As I walked out of the health department on Thursday, I heard the door click and lock behind me. It's not an uncommon sound, but it was a sweeter sound than normal, because it signaled the start of a four-day weekend. For the last month and a half now, I've been looking forward to this weekend. When I heard that click I thought to myself, "This is probably the best moment of my day." Over these last four days, I've had that same thought several times.
Thursday, as I walked in to meet with friends I thought, "This is the best moment of my day." Hanging out with friends and enjoying a change of pace from the craziness that is WIC is an awesome way to end the day.
Later that night, as I opened my futon into a "bed" and settled in for an Office marathon I thought, "This is the best moment of the day." I rarely ever watch DVDs without using them as background noise while I'm doing other things, so to sit down and be comfortable while I enjoyed The Office was nice.
Friday morning when I woke up at 11:00 I thought, "This is the best moment of the day." Depending on the day, I either wake up pressured to get up and get started working on a project or I wake up tired because I was up too late the night before. But Friday, I woke up completely refreshed, having slept until I was no longer tired and knowing that I didn't have a thing planned for the day. Talk about a great feeling.
Saturday morning, when I was singing my favorite songs while I cooked delicious food (Buckeyes and Chicken Pot Pie) I thought, "This is the best moment of the day." I love to cook when I have free time, and Saturday was no exception. I also love to sing favorite songs when no one else is listening, so that was good too.
By the time Saturday was over, I was exhausted after a day of hard work, a night of fun with friends, and a viewing of Inception (which I will forever label 'Worst Movie Ever.') As my head hit the pillow I thought, "This is the best moment of the day." It's a great feeling to go to bed knowing you're tired because you worked hard during the day.
Sunday after church I took Cooper for a long walk down the Sawmill trail and thought, "This is the best moment of the day." It was fairly quiet, definitely warm, and great exercise while I cleared my mind.
This morning I was sitting on my patio and thought, "This is the best moment of the day." It was sunny, the birds were singing, and it was just the right temperature. Sitting and relaxing on my patio during the early morning hours without having to rush and get ready for work is fantastic. (My new goal in life is to make that a daily occurrence)
Today I was at the checkout at Publix and thought, "This is the best moment of the day." When you save $20.00 off your $45.00 bill because you combine sales with coupons, life is good. It's pretty exciting.
Finally, at about 10:00 I looked around at my sparkling clean house I thought, "This is the best moment of the day." Over my four day weekend, I finished everything I wanted to accomplish and then some, and I did it with time to spare.
But now, sadly, is the worst moment of the day. I know I need to go to bed and get ready for work, but it's so much more fun to stay up and watch 30 Rock reruns while writing. Stupid bills that need paid. But I'm guessing that about 5:01 tomorrow afternoon, I'll be back to enjoying a "best moment of the day."
Monday, November 12, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
The Pumpkin Method
The more I write for work, the less I write for fun. Therefore, with three major projects within the last three weeks, there is no blog! But now I'm back, and the same as ever.
There has been a lot going on down here in good, old South Carolina over the last month. I have had more days where I go to bed physically and mentally exhausted from everything I had to do than I have in quite some time. Some mornings, it means I am the grouchiest person in the clinic; but most of the time I'm at least a little thankful.
One of the first interesting things I did this month was go to Civil Rights and Customer Service training. This is a fun little soiree that all federally-funded employees must attended every year, just to remind us that we can't deny services based on a client's protected classification; plus a little bit about making everyone happy. The same person gives the same lecture based on the same forty slides each year. It's quite thrilling. Now, you may think I'm being sarcastic when I say it's thrilling, but I promise I'm not. Okay, maybe a little, but not as much as I usually am.
This year, the training got cut from eight hours to four. I was over-the-moon ecstatic about that. Instead of fighting off sleep for seven hours, I only had to fight off three. It also meant that our instructor would be talking at a rapid pace, meaning we'd get through all the slides faster. After four years in college, I hate PowerPoint slides. I hate them. Really.
At one point in the training, it started to feel like some kind of stereotypical Southern church service. A few of the women are closer to menopause than others, so they were fanning themselves with the handouts. The speaker was dynamic and would often stir up the crowd with a few "You know what I mean!" statements. Every so often, she'd say something that everyone agreed with. The "amen row" was all over those statements. Every time they agreed with her, there were four or five women saying "AMEN!" in the row behind me. I spent more time laughing at them than paying attention to the lecture.
But the best part of the day was the video at the end. It was your typical fluff video: The stressed-out couple with a baby walks up to the airline counter and is VERY ANGRY that their bags are lost. Oh no! The bags are in France!! How will the angry wife ever get her bridesmaid's dress in time for the wedding?! Lucky for the couple, super-cheerful customer service lady saves the day.
Throughout the video, there were different scenarios presented, to show us how we could approach different situations and respond to them appropriately. One of the mock situations was someone swearing at us. Instead of hearing the bad words, we were supposed to take away their negative connotation by replacing them with a "nice" word, like pumpkin.
Seriously. The video literally had the male character talking about "what kind of pumpkin employees are you?" I lost it at this point. I was way past taking any of this seriously anyways, and the idea of letting my clients talk about their "pumpkin boyfriend" and their "piece of pumpkin" stroller was too much. Along with the Amen Crew, I laughed until I cried. It was even better when we got back to the clinic that day. It didn't matter what was happening, what was being said, or what we felt like. Everything was pumpkin. "Can you hand me that, pumpkin?" "Where is my pumpkin pen?" Sometimes we are mature professionals, and sometimes we are little kids who need controlled.
I will say though, the pumpkin method has its perks. I cannot stand it when people swear just for the sake of swearing, so when I hear them running their mouths about whatever and inserting a swear word every other line, all I hear is pumpkin. At that point, I laugh at them even more than I normally would.
Well, the fun writing is over, so it's back to the work writing. No complaints though, work writing pays well!
There has been a lot going on down here in good, old South Carolina over the last month. I have had more days where I go to bed physically and mentally exhausted from everything I had to do than I have in quite some time. Some mornings, it means I am the grouchiest person in the clinic; but most of the time I'm at least a little thankful.
One of the first interesting things I did this month was go to Civil Rights and Customer Service training. This is a fun little soiree that all federally-funded employees must attended every year, just to remind us that we can't deny services based on a client's protected classification; plus a little bit about making everyone happy. The same person gives the same lecture based on the same forty slides each year. It's quite thrilling. Now, you may think I'm being sarcastic when I say it's thrilling, but I promise I'm not. Okay, maybe a little, but not as much as I usually am.
This year, the training got cut from eight hours to four. I was over-the-moon ecstatic about that. Instead of fighting off sleep for seven hours, I only had to fight off three. It also meant that our instructor would be talking at a rapid pace, meaning we'd get through all the slides faster. After four years in college, I hate PowerPoint slides. I hate them. Really.
At one point in the training, it started to feel like some kind of stereotypical Southern church service. A few of the women are closer to menopause than others, so they were fanning themselves with the handouts. The speaker was dynamic and would often stir up the crowd with a few "You know what I mean!" statements. Every so often, she'd say something that everyone agreed with. The "amen row" was all over those statements. Every time they agreed with her, there were four or five women saying "AMEN!" in the row behind me. I spent more time laughing at them than paying attention to the lecture.
But the best part of the day was the video at the end. It was your typical fluff video: The stressed-out couple with a baby walks up to the airline counter and is VERY ANGRY that their bags are lost. Oh no! The bags are in France!! How will the angry wife ever get her bridesmaid's dress in time for the wedding?! Lucky for the couple, super-cheerful customer service lady saves the day.
Throughout the video, there were different scenarios presented, to show us how we could approach different situations and respond to them appropriately. One of the mock situations was someone swearing at us. Instead of hearing the bad words, we were supposed to take away their negative connotation by replacing them with a "nice" word, like pumpkin.
Seriously. The video literally had the male character talking about "what kind of pumpkin employees are you?" I lost it at this point. I was way past taking any of this seriously anyways, and the idea of letting my clients talk about their "pumpkin boyfriend" and their "piece of pumpkin" stroller was too much. Along with the Amen Crew, I laughed until I cried. It was even better when we got back to the clinic that day. It didn't matter what was happening, what was being said, or what we felt like. Everything was pumpkin. "Can you hand me that, pumpkin?" "Where is my pumpkin pen?" Sometimes we are mature professionals, and sometimes we are little kids who need controlled.
I will say though, the pumpkin method has its perks. I cannot stand it when people swear just for the sake of swearing, so when I hear them running their mouths about whatever and inserting a swear word every other line, all I hear is pumpkin. At that point, I laugh at them even more than I normally would.
Well, the fun writing is over, so it's back to the work writing. No complaints though, work writing pays well!
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Soundtracks
"Who's singing? I hear singing." Oops. I didn't think anyone could hear me. I focused in on the work sitting on the desk in front of me and pretended I hadn't heard anything. It didn't matter, it only took a second or two for her to reach my office and ask, "Was that you I heard singing when I walked by?" While I don't like to admit singing in public, it wasn't worth a lie. "Were you singing along to the radio? No? Oh, how cute. You have your own little soundtrack."
It's true. Most of the time I have a song running through my head. Who doesn't? I figure it's not a terrible way to spend the day. It's like hold music or elevator music, just a little something to make you forget that you're not doing anything terribly exciting. My "personal soundtrack" usually reflects my mood too.
The other day I turned a corner to see Tracy, our regional nutrition education supervisor. She is responsible for overseeing all of the WIC certifiers, and conducts all of our annual audits. I didn't even greet her when I saw her, I merely said, "I've been expecting you." Tracy is one of the nicest people you'll ever meet, but its always nerve-wracking to have someone stand over your shoulder, evaluating your every move. "When you get your next chart, we'll do your audit," she said. A few short minutes later, as I headed towards my room with my clients, the song "Phantom Regiment" by Leroy Anderson was going through my head. "Lightly dark" is how I describe the mood of the song, and that's what I was feeling- a little nervous, but I knew I would be okay in the end.
Thursday through Saturday of last week was pure and simple torture for me. I wanted so badly to be outside, enjoying the beautiful weather, and instead I was stuck in stinky diaper land. The mantra around the clinic on busy days is, "Is it five o'clock yet?" So naturally, as I sifted through non-participation letters that needed to be sent, set up for a hemoglobin finger stick, and sent various faxes, all I could think about was "Five O'Clock World" by The Vogues. This is when my boss caught me singing, and she especially appreciated hearing, "while another day goes down the drain."
Last Tuesday, I was working on a project when a song on the TV drew me out of my work trance. It was "Sh-Boom" by the Chords. This has been my "happy song" for the last week. I was in a good mood because of the gorgeous weather and I love oldies anyways, so the cheery song stuck in my head. Over the last week any time I've been in a good mood, I've been singing "Sh-Boom." As I've been working around the house, shopping, walking the dog, etc, I've been singing that song. I realized today though, that until this morning when classes started going well, I haven't been singing the song at work. Hmm...
My personal soundtrack goes with me wherever I am, whatever I'm doing; and not only does it make the mundane moments a little more tolerable, it also provides some humor. Last night, as the dog and I were exercising around the grounds of Martins Creek, I was singing my happy song in my head as we walked around. As we neared the end of the trip, Cooper went from walking beside me to jumping a foot in the air and almost knocking me over. Flies were swarming a smushed toad in the driveway, and they scared him. Because he had startled me, the song left my head and I walked the last two minutes of the loop in silence. How disappointing and boring they were.
It's true. Most of the time I have a song running through my head. Who doesn't? I figure it's not a terrible way to spend the day. It's like hold music or elevator music, just a little something to make you forget that you're not doing anything terribly exciting. My "personal soundtrack" usually reflects my mood too.
The other day I turned a corner to see Tracy, our regional nutrition education supervisor. She is responsible for overseeing all of the WIC certifiers, and conducts all of our annual audits. I didn't even greet her when I saw her, I merely said, "I've been expecting you." Tracy is one of the nicest people you'll ever meet, but its always nerve-wracking to have someone stand over your shoulder, evaluating your every move. "When you get your next chart, we'll do your audit," she said. A few short minutes later, as I headed towards my room with my clients, the song "Phantom Regiment" by Leroy Anderson was going through my head. "Lightly dark" is how I describe the mood of the song, and that's what I was feeling- a little nervous, but I knew I would be okay in the end.
Thursday through Saturday of last week was pure and simple torture for me. I wanted so badly to be outside, enjoying the beautiful weather, and instead I was stuck in stinky diaper land. The mantra around the clinic on busy days is, "Is it five o'clock yet?" So naturally, as I sifted through non-participation letters that needed to be sent, set up for a hemoglobin finger stick, and sent various faxes, all I could think about was "Five O'Clock World" by The Vogues. This is when my boss caught me singing, and she especially appreciated hearing, "while another day goes down the drain."
Last Tuesday, I was working on a project when a song on the TV drew me out of my work trance. It was "Sh-Boom" by the Chords. This has been my "happy song" for the last week. I was in a good mood because of the gorgeous weather and I love oldies anyways, so the cheery song stuck in my head. Over the last week any time I've been in a good mood, I've been singing "Sh-Boom." As I've been working around the house, shopping, walking the dog, etc, I've been singing that song. I realized today though, that until this morning when classes started going well, I haven't been singing the song at work. Hmm...
My personal soundtrack goes with me wherever I am, whatever I'm doing; and not only does it make the mundane moments a little more tolerable, it also provides some humor. Last night, as the dog and I were exercising around the grounds of Martins Creek, I was singing my happy song in my head as we walked around. As we neared the end of the trip, Cooper went from walking beside me to jumping a foot in the air and almost knocking me over. Flies were swarming a smushed toad in the driveway, and they scared him. Because he had startled me, the song left my head and I walked the last two minutes of the loop in silence. How disappointing and boring they were.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
I love a good picnic
Sunday morning, I hemmed and hawed to answer a simple question: Are you going to the picnic tonight? (Don't you love my use of Southern phrases?) I don't mind going to picnics, but I didn't necessarily want to make the haul out to the state park, and I didn't necessarily want to go out and find some food so that I could make an appetizer to take. With a busy week and a Saturday of work coming my way, I knew I really shouldn't go if I didn't have my life in some semblance of order. Finally I gave the best answer I could, "If I can get enough done today, then I'll be there." Long story short, I was there. Simply, I didn't want to pass up the chance for some quality time with friends while having fun and eating lots of yummy, free food.
Seeing as this was a church picnic, the first order of the night was baptisms in the river. Dedicated (ha) readers may remember that I went swimming in a river, only to find myself jumping out when I was told about the resident gator. This would be THAT river. I wasn't the only one thinking about this, as several people standing near me on the bank of the river joked about shouting "gator!" as the people waded into the water. It was a neat experience, a la Round Lake, and I realized I still am slightly shocked when a group of 100 people spontaneously starting singing hymns a capella.
After the baptisms we headed up for food. The line was SO long and SO slow, but it worked in everyone's favor. We stood around and just chatted with friends in line, playfully chided "cutters," and caught up on life in general. I even saw a few faces that I haven't seen in awhile and got to say "hey" to them.
The line was worth the wait. Let me just explain how much better Southern picnic food is than Northern picnic food: Every other dish was macaroni and cheese, there was cornbread and biscuits, huge piles of watermelon, fried chicken (even though I don't eat it, it sure smells good), and the drink table was 50% tea. Not "sweetened" or "unsweetened," just simply "tea." There was some potato salad and some baked beans, but it wasn't as prevalent as I'm used to seeing. The desserts were out of this world too. Delish.
All of this pales in comparison to the social aspect though. It was cool to look out upon the picnic area and take in the sheer volume of attendees. Families were clumped together; eating, laughing, and playing. Kids of all ages were running around in between the clumps, playing everything from tag to soccer. Watching two year-olds "throw" Frisbees® is absolutely hilarious. For my part, I sat in the shade and just chatted with people from my small group. I got to know a few people a little better, and got to enjoy some very good conversation.
The night ended with a few games of "Nuke 'Em." The best way I can describe this is by calling it "fake volleyball." Essentially, you throw the ball over the net, and someone on the other side catches it. If it drops, they're out. This goes on and on until the last man standing wins. While it might not seem like much, there's no small amount of strategy involved; and as the number of your teammates dwindle, you're running like a chicken with it's head cut off.
The party wound down a little quicker than some expected, but it was probably good, considering the amount of mosquitoes flying around and feasting on the attendees. Overall though, it was a beautiful evening, one I look forward to repeating next year. I love a good picnic.
Well, I'm looking forward to another fun night of conversation and laughter, and a few games of "Spanish hangman." If C.J. can't go to Spanish class, we'll bring Spanish class to her!
Seeing as this was a church picnic, the first order of the night was baptisms in the river. Dedicated (ha) readers may remember that I went swimming in a river, only to find myself jumping out when I was told about the resident gator. This would be THAT river. I wasn't the only one thinking about this, as several people standing near me on the bank of the river joked about shouting "gator!" as the people waded into the water. It was a neat experience, a la Round Lake, and I realized I still am slightly shocked when a group of 100 people spontaneously starting singing hymns a capella.
After the baptisms we headed up for food. The line was SO long and SO slow, but it worked in everyone's favor. We stood around and just chatted with friends in line, playfully chided "cutters," and caught up on life in general. I even saw a few faces that I haven't seen in awhile and got to say "hey" to them.
The line was worth the wait. Let me just explain how much better Southern picnic food is than Northern picnic food: Every other dish was macaroni and cheese, there was cornbread and biscuits, huge piles of watermelon, fried chicken (even though I don't eat it, it sure smells good), and the drink table was 50% tea. Not "sweetened" or "unsweetened," just simply "tea." There was some potato salad and some baked beans, but it wasn't as prevalent as I'm used to seeing. The desserts were out of this world too. Delish.
All of this pales in comparison to the social aspect though. It was cool to look out upon the picnic area and take in the sheer volume of attendees. Families were clumped together; eating, laughing, and playing. Kids of all ages were running around in between the clumps, playing everything from tag to soccer. Watching two year-olds "throw" Frisbees® is absolutely hilarious. For my part, I sat in the shade and just chatted with people from my small group. I got to know a few people a little better, and got to enjoy some very good conversation.
The night ended with a few games of "Nuke 'Em." The best way I can describe this is by calling it "fake volleyball." Essentially, you throw the ball over the net, and someone on the other side catches it. If it drops, they're out. This goes on and on until the last man standing wins. While it might not seem like much, there's no small amount of strategy involved; and as the number of your teammates dwindle, you're running like a chicken with it's head cut off.
The party wound down a little quicker than some expected, but it was probably good, considering the amount of mosquitoes flying around and feasting on the attendees. Overall though, it was a beautiful evening, one I look forward to repeating next year. I love a good picnic.
Well, I'm looking forward to another fun night of conversation and laughter, and a few games of "Spanish hangman." If C.J. can't go to Spanish class, we'll bring Spanish class to her!
Monday, September 10, 2012
The Day the Weather Broke
When I woke up this morning, I knew something wonderful had happened. I could sense it, I could feel it. The weather broke.
Back in Ohio, the "weather break" starts in February and carries on little by little through May. Essentially, there is a nice day or two and then you're back to gray skies, snow, and misery for another few weeks. Then, finally, after you were just about to give up hope that it would ever be nice again (Ohio's Third Season: Still Winter), spring would come. It was a build up that seemed to take forever and always left me in a state of frustrated longing for flowers and warm temperatures. Not so here in the Palmetto State.
Granted, I only have two years (only?!) of experience, but I have sensed a pattern here in South Carolina. About the time you're cursing high cooling costs and wondering why on earth people ever chose to live in such a miserably hot and humid climate, one special day comes when the weather completely changes, and you realize once again how nothing could be finer than Carolina. Last year the magical day was September 7, and this year September 10.
Today, I woke up and actually felt like I needed to use my comforter because it was so comfortably chilly in the room. Cooper was curled up in the closet because he no longer appreciates the cool weather. I was actually happy and cheery on our morning walk because the air was still, crisp, and fresh.
My good mood was still present as I walked into work. Usually, I'm making a beeline for the door because it's just downright hot outside, but today I took a semi-leisurely stroll into the clinic. I was still oohing and aahing over the sensation of "cold."
The inside of the office was just as nice. Usually the lack of insulation is a pain- like in the winter when the temperature drops to sixty-something and you're convinced the babies are going to turn into Popsicles; or in the summer when you're convinced everyone is going to melt into little puddles that have eyes. Today, however, the room was a comfortable seventy-four degrees. Perfect for happy clients and happy Kate.
Lunch was amazing. I like to be anti-social and sit in my car at lunch. Actually, I like to sit in my car at lunch so I can get "work" (my freelance stuff) done in peace and occasionally take a nap. I haven't been able to eat in my car since mid-May. But today I was, and I did. I had parked my car in the shade and got to sit back and relax while I enjoyed a few moments of shut-eye while a steady and cool breeze wafted through the car.
Coming home was even better because I got to drive with my windows down. It's actually not all that wonderful, because most of my drive consists of busy, dirty roads. But hey, driving with windows down is so relaxing, and it was wonderful to have that freedom again.
As soon as I got home, every window in my house was opened, because there's not much that makes me happier than my house smelling like fresh air. I sat on my patio and ate dinner while I worked on some more projects. After dinner, I took Cooper for a long walk. I actually had to make myself head back home, because it just felt too nice to NOT be outside.
And now, while I'm not sitting outside (curse you, West Nile-laden mosquitoes), I am right in front of my dining room window, watching my sheer blue curtains sway in the breeze, with the dusk sky as a fitting backdrop. Today, the weather broke, and I am happy again.
Back in Ohio, the "weather break" starts in February and carries on little by little through May. Essentially, there is a nice day or two and then you're back to gray skies, snow, and misery for another few weeks. Then, finally, after you were just about to give up hope that it would ever be nice again (Ohio's Third Season: Still Winter), spring would come. It was a build up that seemed to take forever and always left me in a state of frustrated longing for flowers and warm temperatures. Not so here in the Palmetto State.
Granted, I only have two years (only?!) of experience, but I have sensed a pattern here in South Carolina. About the time you're cursing high cooling costs and wondering why on earth people ever chose to live in such a miserably hot and humid climate, one special day comes when the weather completely changes, and you realize once again how nothing could be finer than Carolina. Last year the magical day was September 7, and this year September 10.
Today, I woke up and actually felt like I needed to use my comforter because it was so comfortably chilly in the room. Cooper was curled up in the closet because he no longer appreciates the cool weather. I was actually happy and cheery on our morning walk because the air was still, crisp, and fresh.
My good mood was still present as I walked into work. Usually, I'm making a beeline for the door because it's just downright hot outside, but today I took a semi-leisurely stroll into the clinic. I was still oohing and aahing over the sensation of "cold."
The inside of the office was just as nice. Usually the lack of insulation is a pain- like in the winter when the temperature drops to sixty-something and you're convinced the babies are going to turn into Popsicles; or in the summer when you're convinced everyone is going to melt into little puddles that have eyes. Today, however, the room was a comfortable seventy-four degrees. Perfect for happy clients and happy Kate.
Lunch was amazing. I like to be anti-social and sit in my car at lunch. Actually, I like to sit in my car at lunch so I can get "work" (my freelance stuff) done in peace and occasionally take a nap. I haven't been able to eat in my car since mid-May. But today I was, and I did. I had parked my car in the shade and got to sit back and relax while I enjoyed a few moments of shut-eye while a steady and cool breeze wafted through the car.
Coming home was even better because I got to drive with my windows down. It's actually not all that wonderful, because most of my drive consists of busy, dirty roads. But hey, driving with windows down is so relaxing, and it was wonderful to have that freedom again.
As soon as I got home, every window in my house was opened, because there's not much that makes me happier than my house smelling like fresh air. I sat on my patio and ate dinner while I worked on some more projects. After dinner, I took Cooper for a long walk. I actually had to make myself head back home, because it just felt too nice to NOT be outside.
And now, while I'm not sitting outside (curse you, West Nile-laden mosquitoes), I am right in front of my dining room window, watching my sheer blue curtains sway in the breeze, with the dusk sky as a fitting backdrop. Today, the weather broke, and I am happy again.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Dark and Stormy Night Walk
I really despise small amounts of water. I like the ocean, but I don't like the marshes. I like Niagara Falls, but I don't like the little misty water vapor that is all over the place. I like to drink water, but I don't like it when there is only a small amount in my cup, say from melting ice, because it's not enough to quench my thirst. Lastly, I like washing my hair in the shower each morning, but I really don't like when rain hits my head.
Last Tuesday night, it was raining like crazy. According to the weather almanac, we got almost two and a half inches of rain. When the weather is nasty like that, I do my best to put off the dog's walk. Even with an umbrella, I just don't like walking in the rain, because at some point rain will fall on my head. But last night it couldn't be helped. He was insistent that he had to go outside NOW! Hearing that the "waterfall" (the overflow from the gutter that hits the cement outside my door) had died down, I thought maybe it wouldn't be raining anymore. As we stepped out the door, I realized we would have no such luck.
I looked around for the umbrella, only to remember it was in the car. I considered digging around for the spare one I keep hidden in my closet, but as the dog pulled me out the door I figured that since it was 9:00 p.m. and I was going to bed soon anyways, it wasn't going to matter. So I grumbled to the dog, "Hurry up, let's go," and trudged out the door.
Five steps out the door, I completely changed my tune. Yes, the raindrops hitting my head were annoying me to no end, but just being outside in the rain was wonderful. The temperature had dropped significantly, there was an ever so slight breeze rustling the leaves, and other than the leaves, it was quiet outside. It felt so nice being outside that I decided just to keep walking. I was happy with my decision.
For the first few minutes of the walk, I tried to pick my way around the standing water. It only took a short while to figure out that there was no way this was going to happen. So, rather than turning back, I just started wading. I would have forgotten about the dog, were it not for the fact that he was actively protesting this part of the walk.
As we made it to the end of the complex, I came across a fellow dog walker. I was clearly enjoying my walk at this point, but I pretended to commiserate with him as he complained about being out with his dog. Rounding back towards the dog run, a mom and her child were chasing their dogs around the run. Dogs who clearly thought it was going to be fun to run in circles while their owners tried to catch them with one hand and hold an umbrella in the other.
The tree frogs were out in full force, trilling like mad. Since Cooper's leash has an LED light at the top, I spent a little time searching for said frogs. They weren't shy when I turned the light on, but they must have been hiding pretty well, because I never did find one.
I stopped to chat with a few neighbors, mainly because they shouted out that I could borrow their umbrella if needed. Explaining what I was doing might not have been the best thing to do, because all six kids sitting on the porch with them started clamoring for the chance to play in the rain. I left before I got the evil eye from the parents.
By now I was almost back to the house. I was contemplating whether or not I should take an extra lap, and just as I decided that the extra exercise would be nice, a thick bolt of lightning shot down from the sky and turned night into day. It was time to go in.
I was drenched from head to toe, but it was worth it. My night was ending on a very peaceful note. I would have called it perfect, were it not for the fact that as I was preparing for bed, the dog who did not enjoy getting soaked on the walk retaliated by crawling up on my bed and soaking the comforter, sheets, and mattress. Oh well. You win some, you lose some.
Last Tuesday night, it was raining like crazy. According to the weather almanac, we got almost two and a half inches of rain. When the weather is nasty like that, I do my best to put off the dog's walk. Even with an umbrella, I just don't like walking in the rain, because at some point rain will fall on my head. But last night it couldn't be helped. He was insistent that he had to go outside NOW! Hearing that the "waterfall" (the overflow from the gutter that hits the cement outside my door) had died down, I thought maybe it wouldn't be raining anymore. As we stepped out the door, I realized we would have no such luck.
I looked around for the umbrella, only to remember it was in the car. I considered digging around for the spare one I keep hidden in my closet, but as the dog pulled me out the door I figured that since it was 9:00 p.m. and I was going to bed soon anyways, it wasn't going to matter. So I grumbled to the dog, "Hurry up, let's go," and trudged out the door.
Five steps out the door, I completely changed my tune. Yes, the raindrops hitting my head were annoying me to no end, but just being outside in the rain was wonderful. The temperature had dropped significantly, there was an ever so slight breeze rustling the leaves, and other than the leaves, it was quiet outside. It felt so nice being outside that I decided just to keep walking. I was happy with my decision.
For the first few minutes of the walk, I tried to pick my way around the standing water. It only took a short while to figure out that there was no way this was going to happen. So, rather than turning back, I just started wading. I would have forgotten about the dog, were it not for the fact that he was actively protesting this part of the walk.
As we made it to the end of the complex, I came across a fellow dog walker. I was clearly enjoying my walk at this point, but I pretended to commiserate with him as he complained about being out with his dog. Rounding back towards the dog run, a mom and her child were chasing their dogs around the run. Dogs who clearly thought it was going to be fun to run in circles while their owners tried to catch them with one hand and hold an umbrella in the other.
The tree frogs were out in full force, trilling like mad. Since Cooper's leash has an LED light at the top, I spent a little time searching for said frogs. They weren't shy when I turned the light on, but they must have been hiding pretty well, because I never did find one.
I stopped to chat with a few neighbors, mainly because they shouted out that I could borrow their umbrella if needed. Explaining what I was doing might not have been the best thing to do, because all six kids sitting on the porch with them started clamoring for the chance to play in the rain. I left before I got the evil eye from the parents.
By now I was almost back to the house. I was contemplating whether or not I should take an extra lap, and just as I decided that the extra exercise would be nice, a thick bolt of lightning shot down from the sky and turned night into day. It was time to go in.
I was drenched from head to toe, but it was worth it. My night was ending on a very peaceful note. I would have called it perfect, were it not for the fact that as I was preparing for bed, the dog who did not enjoy getting soaked on the walk retaliated by crawling up on my bed and soaking the comforter, sheets, and mattress. Oh well. You win some, you lose some.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Once in a blue moon.
"So, Christopher and I are going out in the boat this weekend, gigging fish. I'm so excited- he's been spending weeks getting the boat ready. He set up new lights and everything. Oh, and we have two paddles now." "Oh good, so you fixed the lights so the battery won't die again, and two paddles will make it easier to row back to shore if the battery does die on you?" "Yep! But it won't matter. We're taking his brother too, so if the battery does die, I'll be able to sit back and let the men paddle back. I'll just be sitting there, drinking a beer, watching the waves, and it'll be so pretty with the full moon."
This conversation had taken place with my boss, as I was passing by to call my next client. I stopped dead in my tracks, though, when she uttered that last line. "It's a full moon tonight?" "Not just a full moon, Kate. The second full moon of the month, so it's a blue moon!" <Heavy sigh from me> "That explains so many things about this week."
Now, I don't think I buy into the whole, "a full moon changes your behavior" line of thinking. I guess I just don't like the idea that a rock orbiting millions of miles away takes you from normal functioning human to borderline psychotic maniacs when it shines brighter. That, and in my minimal time spent studying this subject, I have found that almost every study works to disprove this theory. So why buy into it now? After the week I had, I needed someone/thing to blame.
Allow me to elaborate. Just during the last week:
1.) CARES- the computer program that basically runs WIC, died. Across the entire state. You never realize how much you depend on a program until you don't have it. So basically we spent two days to complete one day's worth of work.
2.) To my face, I had a mom and grandmother tell me I was stupid. This was part of a rant against WIC, but still.
3.) I had a child almost pee on me. Twice. Within three minutes.
4.) A trail of ants were discovered in my office by a four year-old. The discovery of ants was bad enough, but the situation was made worse when she took off her sandal, started hitting the wall and screamed, "DIE! I SAID DIE!!"
5.) I was interrupted during a client interview by my co-worker for this reason: "Hey, the police are here. They want to know who called 911."
6.) While I was waiting for some important paperwork for a client to be returned via fax, I checked my e-mail and saw this: "Summerville will be without phone and Internet from 11:45 a.m. to 1:15 p.m." I asked the IT guy why he didn't warn us before he sent the e-mail at 11:43 a.m. He just shrugged.
7.) The piece de resistance? My very own "full moon moment." "Kate, why didn't you respond to my e-mail. Now I have to call you." In my best "sounds cheerful but there's clearly murderous undertones" voice, I responded with, "Well, due to massive delays caused by a combination of over scheduling, late arrivals, slow processing, and exceptional cases, I currently have a two hour delay in seeing my clients. So you can see why I wouldn't be checking my e-mail right now. What's so important?" Yeah, this would be the first time I've EVER used this tone with any of my co-workers, let alone one I only talk to once or twice a year.
So for eight miserable hours, I blamed the moon for all my problems and shortcomings. Then I came home, slept for twelve hours, and returned to my normal belief that a large rotating rock does not affect my behavior. So there.
And now we stand at the verge of a new work week. So much happier with this, seeing as how the new week starts on a Tuesday and not a Monday. Ta ta for now!
This conversation had taken place with my boss, as I was passing by to call my next client. I stopped dead in my tracks, though, when she uttered that last line. "It's a full moon tonight?" "Not just a full moon, Kate. The second full moon of the month, so it's a blue moon!" <Heavy sigh from me> "That explains so many things about this week."
Now, I don't think I buy into the whole, "a full moon changes your behavior" line of thinking. I guess I just don't like the idea that a rock orbiting millions of miles away takes you from normal functioning human to borderline psychotic maniacs when it shines brighter. That, and in my minimal time spent studying this subject, I have found that almost every study works to disprove this theory. So why buy into it now? After the week I had, I needed someone/thing to blame.
Allow me to elaborate. Just during the last week:
1.) CARES- the computer program that basically runs WIC, died. Across the entire state. You never realize how much you depend on a program until you don't have it. So basically we spent two days to complete one day's worth of work.
2.) To my face, I had a mom and grandmother tell me I was stupid. This was part of a rant against WIC, but still.
3.) I had a child almost pee on me. Twice. Within three minutes.
4.) A trail of ants were discovered in my office by a four year-old. The discovery of ants was bad enough, but the situation was made worse when she took off her sandal, started hitting the wall and screamed, "DIE! I SAID DIE!!"
5.) I was interrupted during a client interview by my co-worker for this reason: "Hey, the police are here. They want to know who called 911."
6.) While I was waiting for some important paperwork for a client to be returned via fax, I checked my e-mail and saw this: "Summerville will be without phone and Internet from 11:45 a.m. to 1:15 p.m." I asked the IT guy why he didn't warn us before he sent the e-mail at 11:43 a.m. He just shrugged.
7.) The piece de resistance? My very own "full moon moment." "Kate, why didn't you respond to my e-mail. Now I have to call you." In my best "sounds cheerful but there's clearly murderous undertones" voice, I responded with, "Well, due to massive delays caused by a combination of over scheduling, late arrivals, slow processing, and exceptional cases, I currently have a two hour delay in seeing my clients. So you can see why I wouldn't be checking my e-mail right now. What's so important?" Yeah, this would be the first time I've EVER used this tone with any of my co-workers, let alone one I only talk to once or twice a year.
So for eight miserable hours, I blamed the moon for all my problems and shortcomings. Then I came home, slept for twelve hours, and returned to my normal belief that a large rotating rock does not affect my behavior. So there.
And now we stand at the verge of a new work week. So much happier with this, seeing as how the new week starts on a Tuesday and not a Monday. Ta ta for now!
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Thrown off your game
It's been an odd day. At 8:30 at night, I feel the best course of action is to sleep, but seeing as how I'm not even remotely tired, here I am. I've been trying to think of a good way to describe what this day's been like, and I think the title says it all, I've just been thrown off my game. It happens.
Even at six o'clock this morning, I was miserable. It was so humid that even the short 15 minute walk we take in the mornings left me feeling like I was outside on the hottest day and standing in the sun. I spent the rest of the morning trying to cool off and not feel like I was in a sauna. So I dressed appropriately for the weather- summer clothes.
You'd think this would make sense, right? Well...you'd be wrong. The health department, which always reaches ridiculously warm temperatures during the summer, was ice cold. I had goose bumps for most of the morning. That'll teach me to try and stay cool! Way to throw me off my game.
Being that it's still summer, you'd think it would still be sunny in South Carolina. But courtesy of some super tropical air sent to us via Issac, it's been cloudy and rainy all day. As you can imagine, to a person with my background, cloudy and gray = Northeast Ohio during winter. I think my body temporarily tried to go into hibernation mode. At lunch, I ended up falling asleep halfway through trying to eat my salad.
Then, I had to think what I wanted for dinner. Still inside, still cold and seeing nothing but gray skies, nothing sounded better than good old comfort food. Too bad I didn't have any macaroni noodles. But c'est la vie, I settled on a meat and potato combo, with plans to make biscuits as well. Flash forward to 6:00 p.m., and there I was, once again having just finished a walk, once again feeling like I just walked out of a sauna (Because the dew point is STILL near 75, and the humidity level is STILL in the upper 90s). But now, instead of my normal, light, summer fare, I was staring down some hearty winter food. Even my stomach was thrown off its game. Oh, and the next two days are forecast to be the same as today. Going to be a great week!
I'm not the only one off my game though. Curled up at my feet in the tiniest little ball he can manage is my 70lb Golden Retriever/German Shepherd mix. The dog the maintenance guy has told me, "Is scary and growls and barks the entire time I'm in your place doing maintenance work," has been traumatized today. First it was the glass guy, who came to replace my shattered patio window. Cooper does not like strangers, let alone male strangers, being in his place when I'm not home (But when I'm home, anyone who enters the door is his best friend, including the very maintenance guys he barks at!) So, the trauma of "stranger danger" was enough to drive him to the edge, and the little house fly that has been buzzing his head was enough to send him into madness. He's been running through the house, simultaneously biting the air in an attempt to get the fly, and running to avoid being near the fly when it lands. It's going to be a long night.
So here's to hoping this weather clears up and I can return to my normal, happy, sunny life where the dog isn't running into furniture while trying to avoid an insect. Amen.
Even at six o'clock this morning, I was miserable. It was so humid that even the short 15 minute walk we take in the mornings left me feeling like I was outside on the hottest day and standing in the sun. I spent the rest of the morning trying to cool off and not feel like I was in a sauna. So I dressed appropriately for the weather- summer clothes.
You'd think this would make sense, right? Well...you'd be wrong. The health department, which always reaches ridiculously warm temperatures during the summer, was ice cold. I had goose bumps for most of the morning. That'll teach me to try and stay cool! Way to throw me off my game.
Being that it's still summer, you'd think it would still be sunny in South Carolina. But courtesy of some super tropical air sent to us via Issac, it's been cloudy and rainy all day. As you can imagine, to a person with my background, cloudy and gray = Northeast Ohio during winter. I think my body temporarily tried to go into hibernation mode. At lunch, I ended up falling asleep halfway through trying to eat my salad.
Then, I had to think what I wanted for dinner. Still inside, still cold and seeing nothing but gray skies, nothing sounded better than good old comfort food. Too bad I didn't have any macaroni noodles. But c'est la vie, I settled on a meat and potato combo, with plans to make biscuits as well. Flash forward to 6:00 p.m., and there I was, once again having just finished a walk, once again feeling like I just walked out of a sauna (Because the dew point is STILL near 75, and the humidity level is STILL in the upper 90s). But now, instead of my normal, light, summer fare, I was staring down some hearty winter food. Even my stomach was thrown off its game. Oh, and the next two days are forecast to be the same as today. Going to be a great week!
I'm not the only one off my game though. Curled up at my feet in the tiniest little ball he can manage is my 70lb Golden Retriever/German Shepherd mix. The dog the maintenance guy has told me, "Is scary and growls and barks the entire time I'm in your place doing maintenance work," has been traumatized today. First it was the glass guy, who came to replace my shattered patio window. Cooper does not like strangers, let alone male strangers, being in his place when I'm not home (But when I'm home, anyone who enters the door is his best friend, including the very maintenance guys he barks at!) So, the trauma of "stranger danger" was enough to drive him to the edge, and the little house fly that has been buzzing his head was enough to send him into madness. He's been running through the house, simultaneously biting the air in an attempt to get the fly, and running to avoid being near the fly when it lands. It's going to be a long night.
So here's to hoping this weather clears up and I can return to my normal, happy, sunny life where the dog isn't running into furniture while trying to avoid an insect. Amen.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
My dog and the ocean.
His brown eyes grew large with fear, and with five large, bounding steps he covered the distance between us in two seconds. He ran behind me and began to drag me towards the pier. So much for my big, brave dog.
In the five years that I've had Cooper, I've not known him to be afraid of the water. He likes to run through the large puddles we get here at Martins Creek after a hard rain, he was ridiculously happy to leap and bound through the Edisto River. When we went to the dog park, he ran laps around the little pond and then turned into "Swamp Dog" as he attempted to wade through the murky water. When we were in Ohio, we went to Silver Creek a few times to play "fetch," and he would run around for hours with his "happy dog smile" on his face. Even at bath time, he will willingly jump in the shower, even though it's not his favorite thing.
So yesterday, when I was looking for something fun to do, the beach came to my mind. I like walking on the beach, he likes water, so it must be perfect, right? Bright and early yesterday morning, we got up and got ready to head to Isle of Palms. The perfect car dog sat quietly and patiently in the back seat and slept as we drove. Forty-five minutes later, we were getting out the car and walking towards the water.
When we got to the beach, I figured I'd slowly introduce Cooper to the idea of the ocean. He had other plans though, and ran towards the retreating water at full speed. He made it to the end of his leash about the time the next wave was coming towards us. For three seconds he had enjoyed jumping in the shallow water, but as that wave came in, it became apparent that Cooper was not an ocean-loving dog.
After his initial visit with the waves, I was able to coax him back towards the water. So long as the waves didn't touch his feet, he was happy. I wasn't about to call it quits after only five minutes, so I drug Cooper along, and we started walking up the beach.
Since I prefer to walk in the shallow water, Cooper was stretched to the end of his ten foot leash, trying desperately to stay in the dry sand. The beach was growing more crowded as time passed, so more than once I had to reel him in so that he didn't disrupt passing bikers, fellow walkers, kids playing in the sand, and other dogs. Whenever I pulled him towards me in the water, he eyed the incoming waves with great caution. Each time the tiny remnants of a wave came anywhere near him, he would leap at least two feet in the air, so as to clear the foam coming in on the wave.
Thirty minutes later, we turned back and headed towards the pier, our starting point. About halfway back we came across a couple and their yellow Lab, who was very happy to see Cooper. After a few seconds of conversation, we let the dog's leashes go slack and the dogs ran towards each other. Sniffing ensued, and after determining that neither was a threat, they began "play bowing" to each other and started to run around. The Lab was clearly a fan of water, and he immediately ran into the water and jumped into the waves. Cooper lay down on the sand, clearly dejected that his new friend had left him, but not about to go anywhere near the water. After we laughed at the dogs, Cooper and I continued on down towards the pier.
Our initial trip to the beach could be classified as somewhat of a failure. On the one hand, my plans to play with the dog in the water did not happen. On the other hand, the dog was thoroughly exhausted by the endeavor and slept for four hours when we got home. I'm hoping that in the future, he'll at least be willing to let the water touch his feet. Baby steps.
Speaking of the dog, as he is now in front of the patio door whining to go out and see Cyrus (a neighbor's ridiculously friendly dog), it is time to leave once again. Have a great week!
Monday, July 30, 2012
Glass
The sound of a shattering glass is unmistakable. Nothing in the world piques the ears quite like that sound. The second your brain records the action, you most likely shiver with the dreadful knowledge that you now have a sharp, potentially bloody, mess on your hands; and half of the time, your enemy is transparent and tiny. If you're careful and attentive, you should be okay. If you're half asleep and not completely mentally present in the moment, you're going to have problems, and quickly.
Such was the case Thursday night. About halfway through the night, I must have moved just enough to send a pillow on to the nightstand, which in turn caused my drinking glass to hit a large glass piggy bank that was sitting next to the stand. At first the sound didn't register. Why would glass be shattering? After a few groggy seconds, I was able to wake up enough to see the remains of my cup shining from the carpet. I could only see a few large pieces, which meant I was in world of trouble.
The dog had been having a rough night too. Right before I went to bed, my normally calm and relaxed dog began panting heavily and pacing throughout the apartment. Occasionally he would run back to me and be glued to my side until I shooed him away. After I discovered that the cause of his hysteria was just a little moth floating around, he was banished to the bedroom, where he took up residence under the bed. The only time he sleeps there is when he is upset by something. Now, as I looked to see where the glass was, I heard the dog shuffling his way out from under the bed. He had been sleeping near the nightstand, and as he shook his coat, I was able to determine that he had been hit by the glass when I heard little shards of glass hitting the wall.
I do not wake pleasantly. I am usually a crabby, unhappy person for the first 1/2 hour after I wake up. When I am woken unexpectedly, I am even more unhappy than usual, and also dazed and confused. So there I sat in the middle of the bed. I can't even say I was thinking, I think I was just trying to process what had happened. I was not reasoning clearly, as evidenced by the fact that my first thought was, "I can clean up the mess when I wake up." My second thought, and first action, was to determine where exactly the glass was. I did this by putting my hand down on the ground and shifting my upper body weight onto that hand so I could lean over the edge of the bed. Yeah. I have a spot on my thumb where I came in contact with a shard of glass. Not my brightest move.
Still not completely coherent, it had become obvious to me that I needed to get the dog clear of the mess before he hurt himself and get the carpet cleaned up before I hurt myself. I can't really describe what I was feeling, other than to say that I was still in a fog. I had three thoughts running through my brain: 1.) You need to start cleaning up the mess. 2.) Stop, you think you're going to clean up the mess safely, but really, you're half asleep and reaching for the glass without any kind of safety measures in place. 3.) DO NOT STEP OFF THE BED!
The third thought finally jolted me out of my brain fog, and I sprang to action. For the first time ever, my dog actually listened to my voice commands and went and sat in the doorway to my bedroom. I knew I was stuck on the island in "Glass Shard Sea" since I didn't have any socks or footwear nearby, so I carefully stretched to reach my bookshelf and grabbed all my hardcovers. I threw them down to make a path of freedom to the door, to shoes, and to a vacuum cleaner. After an hour of careful cleaning, the dog, the carpet, and my room in general was free of glass. Who cares that it was 3:00 a.m., at least I was able to knock two of my "to-dos" (brush dog and vacuum room) off my list for the day.
Well, once again it is time to draw my post to a close. I am now faced with a dilemma: Sit and watch the Olympics, or get actual work done around the house. I for one am leaning towards the Olympics. I mean, seriously, what other time do I sit and watch Bob Costas tell me stories about athletes who have faced adversity and triumphed? Never. Okay, maybe every two years or so, it just feels like never. Maybe I'll compromise- maybe I will compete for gold in the floor exercise. Floor scrubbing exercise, that is.
Such was the case Thursday night. About halfway through the night, I must have moved just enough to send a pillow on to the nightstand, which in turn caused my drinking glass to hit a large glass piggy bank that was sitting next to the stand. At first the sound didn't register. Why would glass be shattering? After a few groggy seconds, I was able to wake up enough to see the remains of my cup shining from the carpet. I could only see a few large pieces, which meant I was in world of trouble.
The dog had been having a rough night too. Right before I went to bed, my normally calm and relaxed dog began panting heavily and pacing throughout the apartment. Occasionally he would run back to me and be glued to my side until I shooed him away. After I discovered that the cause of his hysteria was just a little moth floating around, he was banished to the bedroom, where he took up residence under the bed. The only time he sleeps there is when he is upset by something. Now, as I looked to see where the glass was, I heard the dog shuffling his way out from under the bed. He had been sleeping near the nightstand, and as he shook his coat, I was able to determine that he had been hit by the glass when I heard little shards of glass hitting the wall.
I do not wake pleasantly. I am usually a crabby, unhappy person for the first 1/2 hour after I wake up. When I am woken unexpectedly, I am even more unhappy than usual, and also dazed and confused. So there I sat in the middle of the bed. I can't even say I was thinking, I think I was just trying to process what had happened. I was not reasoning clearly, as evidenced by the fact that my first thought was, "I can clean up the mess when I wake up." My second thought, and first action, was to determine where exactly the glass was. I did this by putting my hand down on the ground and shifting my upper body weight onto that hand so I could lean over the edge of the bed. Yeah. I have a spot on my thumb where I came in contact with a shard of glass. Not my brightest move.
Still not completely coherent, it had become obvious to me that I needed to get the dog clear of the mess before he hurt himself and get the carpet cleaned up before I hurt myself. I can't really describe what I was feeling, other than to say that I was still in a fog. I had three thoughts running through my brain: 1.) You need to start cleaning up the mess. 2.) Stop, you think you're going to clean up the mess safely, but really, you're half asleep and reaching for the glass without any kind of safety measures in place. 3.) DO NOT STEP OFF THE BED!
The third thought finally jolted me out of my brain fog, and I sprang to action. For the first time ever, my dog actually listened to my voice commands and went and sat in the doorway to my bedroom. I knew I was stuck on the island in "Glass Shard Sea" since I didn't have any socks or footwear nearby, so I carefully stretched to reach my bookshelf and grabbed all my hardcovers. I threw them down to make a path of freedom to the door, to shoes, and to a vacuum cleaner. After an hour of careful cleaning, the dog, the carpet, and my room in general was free of glass. Who cares that it was 3:00 a.m., at least I was able to knock two of my "to-dos" (brush dog and vacuum room) off my list for the day.
Well, once again it is time to draw my post to a close. I am now faced with a dilemma: Sit and watch the Olympics, or get actual work done around the house. I for one am leaning towards the Olympics. I mean, seriously, what other time do I sit and watch Bob Costas tell me stories about athletes who have faced adversity and triumphed? Never. Okay, maybe every two years or so, it just feels like never. Maybe I'll compromise- maybe I will compete for gold in the floor exercise. Floor scrubbing exercise, that is.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
New is Old
"You know, I bet if we talked to our grandparents, they'd just laugh at us right now."
A few of my friends and I decided this while we sat around talking the other day. During the course of the conversation, the discussion had come around to our latest obsession: frugality. We spent the better part of an hour talking about coupons, making our own detergents, "upcycling" various items around the house, and all the other random things we found on Pinterest.
Finally, someone asked the question, "What I want to know is, where was all this stuff before? Why didn't we know how to do all this years ago?" Just as quickly, she answered her own question by stating, "We probably just got lazy and stopped doing all this for ourselves a long time ago."
What a true statement. I'm guessing that somewhere between the end of the Great Depression, and the beginning of the Great Recession, we all had just enough money that we decided that paying for a little extra advertising and convenient packaging was worth the cost. And now, since I'm living by myself, trying to be a good steward of my money and responsible with my bills, I'm reverting back to "olden ways" of cleaning and whatnot.
My new favorite cleaner is vinegar and blue Dawn. I finally got the soap scum out of the grooves in my bathtub without giving myself tennis elbow. With one swipe of a sponge, I cleaned all the baked on non-stick spray from my baking sheet, rather than using half a can of Bon Ami. The worn, yellowed portions of the vinyl in my apartment is closer to the original color now.
My favorite garage sale find of the last month has been 20 microfiber cloths for $2. I use those cloths for everything. I haven't had to buy paper towels since May. Then, washing my dishes today, I remembered that my best dish towels are actually old flour sacks (and that I want to find more!).
The last few times I've gone to throw out "scraps," like the pits to my mangoes, tea bags, etc., I've gone online and tried to find one last use for them. More often than not, I can find one.
I have two end tables with marble insets that I got at a garage sale for $15 and two comfy chairs that I took out of someone's trash on Blake Road that don't match my futon or entertainment stand. Solution? There are no less than two dozen different suggestions on how to make cheap stain out of common products. Preliminary tests show that these stains will last for awhile. Also, I don't have to worry about having to call Poison Control if I spill the stain on me.
I stand in awe of the people who did things like these out of necessity rather than just as part of a fad. I'm grateful to the people who listened to all the times their parents and grandparents said, "I remember when..." so that they could be the smart ones who reminded all of us "young people" how to save money but still have clean homes and clothes and pretty decorations made from recycled items. I'm really excited for myself, because it's cool to make all this stuff and watch my spending shrink. Frugal is fun!
Aaaand, once again we are quickly approaching the end of another Sunday evening. My frugal fun for tonight? Packing my lunch box for tomorrow and ironing my clothes, since line-drying everything leaves my clothes all wrinkled. Also, I'm writing an old-fashioned snail mail letter to my sister. If any of you have some free time, ask my mom (or me!) for her address and write her while she's off in VA, training to be a Marine officer!
Finally, someone asked the question, "What I want to know is, where was all this stuff before? Why didn't we know how to do all this years ago?" Just as quickly, she answered her own question by stating, "We probably just got lazy and stopped doing all this for ourselves a long time ago."
What a true statement. I'm guessing that somewhere between the end of the Great Depression, and the beginning of the Great Recession, we all had just enough money that we decided that paying for a little extra advertising and convenient packaging was worth the cost. And now, since I'm living by myself, trying to be a good steward of my money and responsible with my bills, I'm reverting back to "olden ways" of cleaning and whatnot.
My new favorite cleaner is vinegar and blue Dawn. I finally got the soap scum out of the grooves in my bathtub without giving myself tennis elbow. With one swipe of a sponge, I cleaned all the baked on non-stick spray from my baking sheet, rather than using half a can of Bon Ami. The worn, yellowed portions of the vinyl in my apartment is closer to the original color now.
My favorite garage sale find of the last month has been 20 microfiber cloths for $2. I use those cloths for everything. I haven't had to buy paper towels since May. Then, washing my dishes today, I remembered that my best dish towels are actually old flour sacks (and that I want to find more!).
The last few times I've gone to throw out "scraps," like the pits to my mangoes, tea bags, etc., I've gone online and tried to find one last use for them. More often than not, I can find one.
I have two end tables with marble insets that I got at a garage sale for $15 and two comfy chairs that I took out of someone's trash on Blake Road that don't match my futon or entertainment stand. Solution? There are no less than two dozen different suggestions on how to make cheap stain out of common products. Preliminary tests show that these stains will last for awhile. Also, I don't have to worry about having to call Poison Control if I spill the stain on me.
I stand in awe of the people who did things like these out of necessity rather than just as part of a fad. I'm grateful to the people who listened to all the times their parents and grandparents said, "I remember when..." so that they could be the smart ones who reminded all of us "young people" how to save money but still have clean homes and clothes and pretty decorations made from recycled items. I'm really excited for myself, because it's cool to make all this stuff and watch my spending shrink. Frugal is fun!
Aaaand, once again we are quickly approaching the end of another Sunday evening. My frugal fun for tonight? Packing my lunch box for tomorrow and ironing my clothes, since line-drying everything leaves my clothes all wrinkled. Also, I'm writing an old-fashioned snail mail letter to my sister. If any of you have some free time, ask my mom (or me!) for her address and write her while she's off in VA, training to be a Marine officer!
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Showing my age
I found an old journal of mine earlier this week, and I've been reading through it ever since. One of the entries was a bucket list of sorts, full of things I wanted to do "before I was old." I didn't list a specific age, but based on the words I used, I think I was considering anything past 25 to be old. Seeing as how I am now 25 years and 9 days of age, I must be old. And right now, I feel like it too.
Friday was one of the best days I've had at work. We have some county maintenance workers who fit the stereotype of "lazy" government workers, and they had been doing an extremely good job of avoiding all the work we had lined up for them at the health department. The last straw was when they came in, did one small portion of a large job with startling inaccuracy and then had the gall to leave and tell us, "they'd be back next week sometime." So, being the impatient and sometimes "driven to action by anger" person that I am, I told my boss that I would bring my tools and WE could finish the to-do list.
So that's what we did Friday. We worked all day installing stadiometers, correcting some VERY uneven pictures, hanging supply bins, etc. By the end of the day, we had a great sense of accomplishment and rejoiced in our success. But I felt my age yesterday when my muscles, overworked from constant stooping and bending, protested with each and every movement. And it wasn't just my muscles- every joint in my body was cracking with each step. Sigh.
I felt old again today when I was greeting at church. Person after person smiled, shook hands, and greeted each other warmly. Then came the teenagers. Granted, a lot of them were returning from back-to-back weeks of mission trips, serving at camps, and attending their own camp and were worn out, but their vacant stares and unresponsiveness started driving me crazy. In my mind I was thinking, "Someone's talking to you, respond!" and "Make eye contact!" Other random thoughts were, "Stand up straight and don't slouch," and "I'm thinking you could have found a better outfit than a hoodie." What's happening to me?!
I went shopping after church, and my first stop was TSC. I was behind a long line of people at the checkout, and like I normally do when I'm bored in a checkout line, I "spied" on the other people's items. I wasn't the only person with bird seed, borax, washing soda, and fels naptha soap, but I was the only person under 50 buying these items.
The final straw is probably going to be tonight, when I go to bed at 10:00, after I have set out my clothes for work, packed my lunch, and put black beans in the crock pot for tomorrow's dinner. I'd say something's got to give and I need to change, but let's be real for a moment: I secretly love my "oldness." And to all you people older than me who are reading this: I can feel your eye rolls from here.
So as we sit here, once again awaiting the beginning of a new work week, I must go and pretend to have some enthusiasm for completing my to-do list. See? I even have lists.
Friday was one of the best days I've had at work. We have some county maintenance workers who fit the stereotype of "lazy" government workers, and they had been doing an extremely good job of avoiding all the work we had lined up for them at the health department. The last straw was when they came in, did one small portion of a large job with startling inaccuracy and then had the gall to leave and tell us, "they'd be back next week sometime." So, being the impatient and sometimes "driven to action by anger" person that I am, I told my boss that I would bring my tools and WE could finish the to-do list.
So that's what we did Friday. We worked all day installing stadiometers, correcting some VERY uneven pictures, hanging supply bins, etc. By the end of the day, we had a great sense of accomplishment and rejoiced in our success. But I felt my age yesterday when my muscles, overworked from constant stooping and bending, protested with each and every movement. And it wasn't just my muscles- every joint in my body was cracking with each step. Sigh.
I felt old again today when I was greeting at church. Person after person smiled, shook hands, and greeted each other warmly. Then came the teenagers. Granted, a lot of them were returning from back-to-back weeks of mission trips, serving at camps, and attending their own camp and were worn out, but their vacant stares and unresponsiveness started driving me crazy. In my mind I was thinking, "Someone's talking to you, respond!" and "Make eye contact!" Other random thoughts were, "Stand up straight and don't slouch," and "I'm thinking you could have found a better outfit than a hoodie." What's happening to me?!
I went shopping after church, and my first stop was TSC. I was behind a long line of people at the checkout, and like I normally do when I'm bored in a checkout line, I "spied" on the other people's items. I wasn't the only person with bird seed, borax, washing soda, and fels naptha soap, but I was the only person under 50 buying these items.
The final straw is probably going to be tonight, when I go to bed at 10:00, after I have set out my clothes for work, packed my lunch, and put black beans in the crock pot for tomorrow's dinner. I'd say something's got to give and I need to change, but let's be real for a moment: I secretly love my "oldness." And to all you people older than me who are reading this: I can feel your eye rolls from here.
So as we sit here, once again awaiting the beginning of a new work week, I must go and pretend to have some enthusiasm for completing my to-do list. See? I even have lists.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Winning
Winning- adj- the act of one that wins
In semi-disgust, I dried my hands and grabbed my car keys off the table. Who cares if it required an extra trip to the grocery store just to buy dishwasher detergent? I did not have the patience to wash any more dishes by hand. Off to the grocery store I went, glad I was just heading to Bi-Lo, where an old college t-shirt, grubby shorts, and adidas sandals that had seen better days was considered decent clothing.
With detergent in hand, I headed for the self-checkout. Unfortunately, they shut down at 8:00 p.m., and I was there at 7:56. So courtesy of an overzealous clerk, my other choice was to wait in the "15 items or less" line. Thinking this would be the better alternative to standing behind ladies waiting in a regular line with way overfilled "buggies," I took my place in the express line and started reading about the Mayan's prediction for peace and prosperity before the world's end in less than six months.
A few minutes later, I was getting a little irritated. The people ahead of me did not have their little rewards card, but they desperately wanted the $.50 off their tortilla chips. So they recited just about every phone number they knew, hoping one of them would have a rewards card attached to the number. This got old after they recited the tenth phone number.
Suddenly, it hit me. They had at least five cases of beer, and I remembered that there were extra rewards points for the brand of beer they had, plus extra points if you spent over a certain amount. When the twelfth number failed to yield any results, I played the role of Good Samaritan and handed over my card. They got their $.50 cents off, I got $.05 cents off for reaching $50 in purchases, $.10 for "buying" Budweiser, and $.10 for a single purchase greater than $50. And then, I got another $.05 off on my own purchase. $.30 per gallon off my next gas purchase was awesome, especially considering I had only spent $2.49 on dish soap!
The cashier was a little suspect of my motives though- I think she could see me mentally calculating my savings, and I had also sped the checkout process along. But hey, ulterior motives aside, all's well that ends well. I was happy with myself as I walked out to the car. Topping things off, I even found a dime next to my car!
Then I went home and scheduled a trip to the beach with some friends for this weekend, because you know you have problems and need to get out of the house more when you're drooling over $.30 off per gallon of gas. Not winning.
Last but not least, I have approximately 10 days before I venture home. Winning.
In semi-disgust, I dried my hands and grabbed my car keys off the table. Who cares if it required an extra trip to the grocery store just to buy dishwasher detergent? I did not have the patience to wash any more dishes by hand. Off to the grocery store I went, glad I was just heading to Bi-Lo, where an old college t-shirt, grubby shorts, and adidas sandals that had seen better days was considered decent clothing.
With detergent in hand, I headed for the self-checkout. Unfortunately, they shut down at 8:00 p.m., and I was there at 7:56. So courtesy of an overzealous clerk, my other choice was to wait in the "15 items or less" line. Thinking this would be the better alternative to standing behind ladies waiting in a regular line with way overfilled "buggies," I took my place in the express line and started reading about the Mayan's prediction for peace and prosperity before the world's end in less than six months.
A few minutes later, I was getting a little irritated. The people ahead of me did not have their little rewards card, but they desperately wanted the $.50 off their tortilla chips. So they recited just about every phone number they knew, hoping one of them would have a rewards card attached to the number. This got old after they recited the tenth phone number.
Suddenly, it hit me. They had at least five cases of beer, and I remembered that there were extra rewards points for the brand of beer they had, plus extra points if you spent over a certain amount. When the twelfth number failed to yield any results, I played the role of Good Samaritan and handed over my card. They got their $.50 cents off, I got $.05 cents off for reaching $50 in purchases, $.10 for "buying" Budweiser, and $.10 for a single purchase greater than $50. And then, I got another $.05 off on my own purchase. $.30 per gallon off my next gas purchase was awesome, especially considering I had only spent $2.49 on dish soap!
The cashier was a little suspect of my motives though- I think she could see me mentally calculating my savings, and I had also sped the checkout process along. But hey, ulterior motives aside, all's well that ends well. I was happy with myself as I walked out to the car. Topping things off, I even found a dime next to my car!
Then I went home and scheduled a trip to the beach with some friends for this weekend, because you know you have problems and need to get out of the house more when you're drooling over $.30 off per gallon of gas. Not winning.
Last but not least, I have approximately 10 days before I venture home. Winning.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Vacation
Vacation- noun- an extended period of recreation, especially one spent away from home or in traveling.
In the midst of a whirlwind of a Friday morning, it dawned on me that three weeks from that day, I would be counting the hours until my flight left Charleston for home. More accurately, I would be fretting and fussing over whether or not I could get all of my errands taken care of before my flight left Charleston for home. But either way, I would be very close to my flight leaving Charleston for home!
I always look forward to my vacations, or even days off, but lately I've been longing to do so many things that can only be done in Ohio, and the wait may literally be killing me. My kidneys revolted last week and threw a few rocks at me, but since I've sufficiently recovered, I'm back to making lists of everything I want to do. Here's a brief look at my list:
I want to wake up in the morning and hear robins, mourning doves, and red-wing blackbirds. (I do not want to hear mockingbirds!)
I want to take a nice, long walk at a park and not fear that poisonous snakes will jump out at me.
I want to sit in the backyard and hear nothing- no cars, no neighbors, no jets, nothing.
I want to go to Rocknes, eat Marie's Pizza, grab some Asiago Cheese Bread from Buehler's, and I MUST have a hot fudge sundae from Bidinger's.
I want to go to my aunt's house, where I will laugh until I cry, be covered in dirt from head to toe because I rode on 4-wheelers and ATVs all day, and watch the sun set in the south.
I want to see my best friend. I will kidnap her away from others if necessary.
I want to sit down and talk with my grandparents.
I want to catch fireflies and play with sparklers.
I want to play fetch with Chloe, let Kitty sleep on the couch with me (don't tell Sheryl!), and curse at Perro when he almost trips me while I'm walking down the stairs. I will inadvertently scare Allen and then not see him for the rest of the trip.
I want to watch Whose Line clips on YouTube with my mom and sister.
I want to use key phrases in conversation so that my Dad will start singing all of those songs he knows, and watch my sister roll her eyes in response to this.
I want to think of some grand and glorious plan for my 25th (!) birthday.
Lastly, I want time to fly in between now and the beginning of vacation, but to be the longest week on earth when the time comes. (In a good way, of course.)
I don't think I'm asking for too much. Have a great night everyone. See those of you in Ohio very soon, and if you have anything you think I should add to my list, let me know!
In the midst of a whirlwind of a Friday morning, it dawned on me that three weeks from that day, I would be counting the hours until my flight left Charleston for home. More accurately, I would be fretting and fussing over whether or not I could get all of my errands taken care of before my flight left Charleston for home. But either way, I would be very close to my flight leaving Charleston for home!
I always look forward to my vacations, or even days off, but lately I've been longing to do so many things that can only be done in Ohio, and the wait may literally be killing me. My kidneys revolted last week and threw a few rocks at me, but since I've sufficiently recovered, I'm back to making lists of everything I want to do. Here's a brief look at my list:
I want to wake up in the morning and hear robins, mourning doves, and red-wing blackbirds. (I do not want to hear mockingbirds!)
I want to take a nice, long walk at a park and not fear that poisonous snakes will jump out at me.
I want to sit in the backyard and hear nothing- no cars, no neighbors, no jets, nothing.
I want to go to Rocknes, eat Marie's Pizza, grab some Asiago Cheese Bread from Buehler's, and I MUST have a hot fudge sundae from Bidinger's.
I want to go to my aunt's house, where I will laugh until I cry, be covered in dirt from head to toe because I rode on 4-wheelers and ATVs all day, and watch the sun set in the south.
I want to see my best friend. I will kidnap her away from others if necessary.
I want to sit down and talk with my grandparents.
I want to catch fireflies and play with sparklers.
I want to play fetch with Chloe, let Kitty sleep on the couch with me (don't tell Sheryl!), and curse at Perro when he almost trips me while I'm walking down the stairs. I will inadvertently scare Allen and then not see him for the rest of the trip.
I want to watch Whose Line clips on YouTube with my mom and sister.
I want to use key phrases in conversation so that my Dad will start singing all of those songs he knows, and watch my sister roll her eyes in response to this.
I want to think of some grand and glorious plan for my 25th (!) birthday.
Lastly, I want time to fly in between now and the beginning of vacation, but to be the longest week on earth when the time comes. (In a good way, of course.)
I don't think I'm asking for too much. Have a great night everyone. See those of you in Ohio very soon, and if you have anything you think I should add to my list, let me know!
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Usta
Usta- noun, Polish in origin- mouth
Last week, I lost a lot of sleep over work. Now, most of the time I enjoy my job and I only experience the little minor annoyances that come with working for the public. But last week, so many different things happened and caused me so much grief that the one night I managed to get a full night's sleep, I dreamed that I went back to Buehler's on my vacation, ended up staying, and actually enjoyed working there. Ha!
But by the end of Monday morning, all of my problems had disappeared and I was in a very happy mood. Also, I was incredibly bored due to the fact that I had been stuffing folders with inserts all morning and still was only halfway done. Finally, boredom overtook me, and as I glanced at the eightieth informational pamphlet that talked about picking the ripest fruits and vegetables, I started reading the Spanish side of the pamphlet, just so I could say I was learning some new information.
In my slap happy state, it didn't take me long to start repeating the one Spanish phrase I know that contains the word 'tomato': "Miren al tomate, no es triste? Pero no puede bailar, pobre tomate." According to Google Translate and the Veggie Tales video I learned that line from, it means, "Look at the tomato. Isn't it sad? He can't dance. Poor tomato." I probably sang "The Dance of the Cucumber" for a good hour.
Once I got bored with that song, I started thinking about all of my other Veggie Tales favorites. Over the course of the next hour, I sang "The Hairbrush Song," the "Cheeseburger Song," "The Song of the Cebu," "Barbara Manatee," and "The Water Buffalo Song." Honest to goodness, I forgot I knew the words to all of those songs, but they came back to me very easily.
At the end of the day, one of my co-workers commented on my good mood. She speculated that it must have been due to the fact that our potentially disastrous morning had turned out in our favor. I really didn't know how I could explain that singing songs I learned in my "tween" years had brought me great joy that afternoon, so I just smiled and nodded.
What really bugged me though was the one last song I couldn't remember. All I could remember was the word "usta." My entire drive home (it's only five minutes) I was driving myself crazy trying to remember the song. I even played my mom's "ABC" game. You know, the one where you recite the alphabet until it jogs your memory? The one we mercilessly tease her for? It didn't work.
Finally, finally I was able to access the Eighth Wonder of the Modern World- YouTube. All I had to do was type in the word "usta" and I was transported back in time to when I first learned "The Lip Song." I was overjoyed to find the song and I sang the entire thing for the rest of the night. It was a good evening, and I slept well for the first night in a week.
Moral of the story: I know a ridiculous amount of songs that revolve around animated vegetables, and they brought my great joy this week. Usta! Enjoy the rest of your week!
Last week, I lost a lot of sleep over work. Now, most of the time I enjoy my job and I only experience the little minor annoyances that come with working for the public. But last week, so many different things happened and caused me so much grief that the one night I managed to get a full night's sleep, I dreamed that I went back to Buehler's on my vacation, ended up staying, and actually enjoyed working there. Ha!
But by the end of Monday morning, all of my problems had disappeared and I was in a very happy mood. Also, I was incredibly bored due to the fact that I had been stuffing folders with inserts all morning and still was only halfway done. Finally, boredom overtook me, and as I glanced at the eightieth informational pamphlet that talked about picking the ripest fruits and vegetables, I started reading the Spanish side of the pamphlet, just so I could say I was learning some new information.
In my slap happy state, it didn't take me long to start repeating the one Spanish phrase I know that contains the word 'tomato': "Miren al tomate, no es triste? Pero no puede bailar, pobre tomate." According to Google Translate and the Veggie Tales video I learned that line from, it means, "Look at the tomato. Isn't it sad? He can't dance. Poor tomato." I probably sang "The Dance of the Cucumber" for a good hour.
Once I got bored with that song, I started thinking about all of my other Veggie Tales favorites. Over the course of the next hour, I sang "The Hairbrush Song," the "Cheeseburger Song," "The Song of the Cebu," "Barbara Manatee," and "The Water Buffalo Song." Honest to goodness, I forgot I knew the words to all of those songs, but they came back to me very easily.
At the end of the day, one of my co-workers commented on my good mood. She speculated that it must have been due to the fact that our potentially disastrous morning had turned out in our favor. I really didn't know how I could explain that singing songs I learned in my "tween" years had brought me great joy that afternoon, so I just smiled and nodded.
What really bugged me though was the one last song I couldn't remember. All I could remember was the word "usta." My entire drive home (it's only five minutes) I was driving myself crazy trying to remember the song. I even played my mom's "ABC" game. You know, the one where you recite the alphabet until it jogs your memory? The one we mercilessly tease her for? It didn't work.
Finally, finally I was able to access the Eighth Wonder of the Modern World- YouTube. All I had to do was type in the word "usta" and I was transported back in time to when I first learned "The Lip Song." I was overjoyed to find the song and I sang the entire thing for the rest of the night. It was a good evening, and I slept well for the first night in a week.
Moral of the story: I know a ridiculous amount of songs that revolve around animated vegetables, and they brought my great joy this week. Usta! Enjoy the rest of your week!
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Trail
Trail- noun- a marked or beaten path, as through woods or wilderness.
All I want to do is take a nice, long walk on a nature trail. I want to climb over tree roots, maneuver around ancient trees, listen to wind rustling through the leaves, breathe in the clean air, and watch the birds fly around.
Maybe I'm looking forward to coming home just a little too much and am romanticizing all the things I miss about Ohio, but lately I've been really missing all of the trails I walked when I was home.
I miss how I can walk to that one corner of Hubbard Valley, turn, and then look out across the pond. I like the fact that I can walk along a grassy lane, then traverse through some winding trails and end up by the little creek. Oh, and if I have the right people with me, we roll down the sledding hill.
I miss walking at River Styx, walking the "wrong way" around the nature trail, only to immediately come up against that hill I hate. When I get to the top of the hill, though, it's all worth it and everything is smooth sailing from there. I miss looking for the creepy carp and counting the number of frogs I can scare as I walk around the pond. Oh, and if we stopped to get ice cream from the little store first, it's heavenly.
There are a lot of beautiful parks here in SC, but they're not quite the same. I think my favorite park has to be Rosebrock park. It has long, winding trails through the woods, and a sign that says "Learn about the poisonous snakes in our park." This is right before the part of the sign that talked about wearing long sleeves and long pants to help prevent against ticks. Oh, and I don't get charged money to enter that park, unlike several other of the nicer parks in my area. But I think I'll hold off on visiting Rosebrock until the weather cools down and the snakes hibernate!
With all that said, you can be sure that I will be walking at one of these two places hopefully every day when I'm home in just a few short weeks. Join me if you want, the more the merrier! Have a great week everyone!
All I want to do is take a nice, long walk on a nature trail. I want to climb over tree roots, maneuver around ancient trees, listen to wind rustling through the leaves, breathe in the clean air, and watch the birds fly around.
Maybe I'm looking forward to coming home just a little too much and am romanticizing all the things I miss about Ohio, but lately I've been really missing all of the trails I walked when I was home.
I miss how I can walk to that one corner of Hubbard Valley, turn, and then look out across the pond. I like the fact that I can walk along a grassy lane, then traverse through some winding trails and end up by the little creek. Oh, and if I have the right people with me, we roll down the sledding hill.
I miss walking at River Styx, walking the "wrong way" around the nature trail, only to immediately come up against that hill I hate. When I get to the top of the hill, though, it's all worth it and everything is smooth sailing from there. I miss looking for the creepy carp and counting the number of frogs I can scare as I walk around the pond. Oh, and if we stopped to get ice cream from the little store first, it's heavenly.
There are a lot of beautiful parks here in SC, but they're not quite the same. I think my favorite park has to be Rosebrock park. It has long, winding trails through the woods, and a sign that says "Learn about the poisonous snakes in our park." This is right before the part of the sign that talked about wearing long sleeves and long pants to help prevent against ticks. Oh, and I don't get charged money to enter that park, unlike several other of the nicer parks in my area. But I think I'll hold off on visiting Rosebrock until the weather cools down and the snakes hibernate!
With all that said, you can be sure that I will be walking at one of these two places hopefully every day when I'm home in just a few short weeks. Join me if you want, the more the merrier! Have a great week everyone!
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Sleep
Sleep- noun- a condition of body and mind, such as that which typically recurs for several hours every night, in which the nervous system is inactive.
verb- rest in such a condition; be asleep
I thought a lot about sleep these last few days, probably because my "gift of sleep" disappeared and I was tired and cranky all week. The saying, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" is typically spoken in reference to something we desire or a love that is not present, but I felt that way about my sleep this week.
I thought about sleep when I saw the little baby in his car seat. Even though his brother was screaming as he ran down the hallway ahead of us, the baby never stirred.
I thought about sleep when a mom uttered the fatal words: "You're taking a nap when you get home." That was a cue for her three year-old to scream in defiance, "NO, I'M NOT!" I laughed and couldn't help but think that someday she would wish for those naps, just like the rest of us do now.
I thought about sleep when I saw my co-worker sleeping in her car on her lunch break. I have done the same thing on many occasions (an hour to sleep in the middle of the day, are you kidding me? Who would pass that up?). One day a few weeks ago, my boss saw me in the hallway and said, "You have no idea how hard it was for me to NOT honk my horn and try to scare you when I saw you sleeping." Normally I want to harm anyone who dare disturbs my slumber, but if you knew my boss, you'd know it's completely out of character for her and for that reason it would have been funny.
I thought about sleep in my meeting last week, when I was trying desperately to not allow my eyes to close while we went over some ridiculously monotonous statistics. I perked up when I saw a woman across the room starting the "head bob" as she too tried to stay awake. Some people have nice co-workers who gently elbow them awake. This girl had co-workers who draped seven other people's name tags over her head.
I thought about sleep when I walked in my room to find my dog asleep in his crate, stretched out on his back with his paws in the air while he snored. God still has not blessed my family with a normal animal.
And tonight, I will set up camp on my futon. I will have some popcorn and hot chocolate and put a chick-flick in the DVD player, intending to enjoy my extra night of freedom with a movie marathon. This will inevitably end with me waking up about 1:00 a.m. after I realize that I"m listening to the same soundtrack music over and over again while the DVD idles on the main menu. I will have missed approximately half the movie, including all of my favorite parts.
Well, I just noticed a spider building a web in the arm of my patio chair, so I need to go destroy the web before the spider kills anything and I have to watch a bug writhe around in the silk. I allowed one spider to build a web in the corner of my patio, the least they can do is leave my chair alone.
Have a fantastic week everyone. Take a minute (at least!) to observe the holiday, and join me in saying, "Beryl, Beryl, go away, head to sea with your skies so gray." Hey, if it's not going to hit us directly, I want nothing to do with it!
verb- rest in such a condition; be asleep
I thought a lot about sleep these last few days, probably because my "gift of sleep" disappeared and I was tired and cranky all week. The saying, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" is typically spoken in reference to something we desire or a love that is not present, but I felt that way about my sleep this week.
I thought about sleep when I saw the little baby in his car seat. Even though his brother was screaming as he ran down the hallway ahead of us, the baby never stirred.
I thought about sleep when a mom uttered the fatal words: "You're taking a nap when you get home." That was a cue for her three year-old to scream in defiance, "NO, I'M NOT!" I laughed and couldn't help but think that someday she would wish for those naps, just like the rest of us do now.
I thought about sleep when I saw my co-worker sleeping in her car on her lunch break. I have done the same thing on many occasions (an hour to sleep in the middle of the day, are you kidding me? Who would pass that up?). One day a few weeks ago, my boss saw me in the hallway and said, "You have no idea how hard it was for me to NOT honk my horn and try to scare you when I saw you sleeping." Normally I want to harm anyone who dare disturbs my slumber, but if you knew my boss, you'd know it's completely out of character for her and for that reason it would have been funny.
I thought about sleep in my meeting last week, when I was trying desperately to not allow my eyes to close while we went over some ridiculously monotonous statistics. I perked up when I saw a woman across the room starting the "head bob" as she too tried to stay awake. Some people have nice co-workers who gently elbow them awake. This girl had co-workers who draped seven other people's name tags over her head.
I thought about sleep when I walked in my room to find my dog asleep in his crate, stretched out on his back with his paws in the air while he snored. God still has not blessed my family with a normal animal.
And tonight, I will set up camp on my futon. I will have some popcorn and hot chocolate and put a chick-flick in the DVD player, intending to enjoy my extra night of freedom with a movie marathon. This will inevitably end with me waking up about 1:00 a.m. after I realize that I"m listening to the same soundtrack music over and over again while the DVD idles on the main menu. I will have missed approximately half the movie, including all of my favorite parts.
Well, I just noticed a spider building a web in the arm of my patio chair, so I need to go destroy the web before the spider kills anything and I have to watch a bug writhe around in the silk. I allowed one spider to build a web in the corner of my patio, the least they can do is leave my chair alone.
Have a fantastic week everyone. Take a minute (at least!) to observe the holiday, and join me in saying, "Beryl, Beryl, go away, head to sea with your skies so gray." Hey, if it's not going to hit us directly, I want nothing to do with it!
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Ready
Ready- adj- in a suitable state for an activity, action, or situation; fully prepared
verb- prepare for an activity or purpose
Last night, I settled onto my couch to channel surf for a few minutes before I went to bed. After skipping over a few obnoxious reality shows, Law and Order reruns, and whatever was on PBS, I came across the news just as the weather report began. Waiting for the weatherman to tell me I was going to have perfect weather for my walk at the park the next day, I was a little surprised to instead hear about the tropical storm that was spinning just off the coast. I paid close attention for a few seconds, only to quickly move on to the next channel when the weatherman said it wasn't going to come anywhere near me.
This isn't to say that I don't care about tropical weather. Earlier this week we had a couple of relatively minor storms that caused a lot of problems, and all I could think was, "If this is just a little storm, what the heck would a hurricane be like?" But there's no sense in losing sleep over something that wasn't going to affect me. Besides, I "know" that I am ready.
Last year when Tropical Storm Emily came close enough to warrant a few NOAA e-mails from our emergency prepardness director, I went out and bought EVERYTHING I needed for a hurricane kit. Then, when Hurricane Irene came close enough to scare everyone, I went out and bought just a little bit more.
Like I said- I tried to cover everything- many gallons of water, juice, canned fruits and vegetables, canned chicken, some granola bars, applesauce cups, and plastic silverware. I had enough food to last for a week! To top it off, I used some old "disaster" menus I made for school and tailored it to make my own personal hurricane menu. When Irene came around, I stocked up on batteries, dog food, and the last three gallons of water on the shelf. I also had a blank book, ready to start writing a book during the three days that the power would be out (I was trying to be optimistic!)
Then, when Irene didn't stop by, I gradually started picking at my stores. First I took the juice, the applesauce, and the granola bars for my lunch. Cooper gnawed on a couple of jugs of water, allowing them to slowly leak into my carpet. No wonder I couldn't figure out where that musty smell was coming from. He also ate my honey nut Cheerios. I figured out once and for all that I hate, with a capital H- Hate, canned meat of any kind when I went to use the chicken in a recipe. Slowly but surely, the canned fruit and vegetables made it into various casseroles and baked desserts.
So come January (when I first discovered the emptied and shriveled jugs of water), I looked down into my hurricane basket and sighed. What had been a full basket that would carry me through the h-e-double hockey sticks that would be a category 3 hurricane was now a pink basket with a container of Purell and a box of mixed cutlery.
Since then, I've started adding back to my little stash. Like I said- I hate canned chicken, but I now have a few cans of beans, a container of peanut butter, a can of almonds, and some Ravioli for protein purposes. Triscuits are in still in the box, and I added some club crackers. I found some high fructose-free applesauce cups for half price with a coupon, and I decided to make my peace with the canned peas and carrots. (Somehow they will get mixed in with something I actually like.)
The water is now on the top shelf, far away from the dog's fangs. I found out that Bi-Lo offers a "buy the name brand, get our store brand free" offer for some yummy granola bars, and I splurged on more juice boxes and Capri Suns. I figure if I'm going to be cowering for protection in my closet, I may as well have all kinds of yumminess nearby. Speaking of that...maybe I should get a little chocolate?
All in all, Alberto is far away tonight, so I have probably have at least another two months or so before there's any more mention of a hurricane. Also, the reality is, no matter how ready I think I am, I will still probably be scared out of my mind if anything heads toward Charleston. Additionally, I have set my hurricane category limit to "2." Anything more than a category 2 and I will be taking an impromptu vacation to Ohio. Or maybe Tennessee, since driving to Ohio would violate my "never driving 77 North alone again" rule.
In any case, I have a strawberry rhubarb pie to finish baking. Hopefully it will be as delicious as I am imagining. Have a great week everyone!
verb- prepare for an activity or purpose
Last night, I settled onto my couch to channel surf for a few minutes before I went to bed. After skipping over a few obnoxious reality shows, Law and Order reruns, and whatever was on PBS, I came across the news just as the weather report began. Waiting for the weatherman to tell me I was going to have perfect weather for my walk at the park the next day, I was a little surprised to instead hear about the tropical storm that was spinning just off the coast. I paid close attention for a few seconds, only to quickly move on to the next channel when the weatherman said it wasn't going to come anywhere near me.
This isn't to say that I don't care about tropical weather. Earlier this week we had a couple of relatively minor storms that caused a lot of problems, and all I could think was, "If this is just a little storm, what the heck would a hurricane be like?" But there's no sense in losing sleep over something that wasn't going to affect me. Besides, I "know" that I am ready.
Last year when Tropical Storm Emily came close enough to warrant a few NOAA e-mails from our emergency prepardness director, I went out and bought EVERYTHING I needed for a hurricane kit. Then, when Hurricane Irene came close enough to scare everyone, I went out and bought just a little bit more.
Like I said- I tried to cover everything- many gallons of water, juice, canned fruits and vegetables, canned chicken, some granola bars, applesauce cups, and plastic silverware. I had enough food to last for a week! To top it off, I used some old "disaster" menus I made for school and tailored it to make my own personal hurricane menu. When Irene came around, I stocked up on batteries, dog food, and the last three gallons of water on the shelf. I also had a blank book, ready to start writing a book during the three days that the power would be out (I was trying to be optimistic!)
Then, when Irene didn't stop by, I gradually started picking at my stores. First I took the juice, the applesauce, and the granola bars for my lunch. Cooper gnawed on a couple of jugs of water, allowing them to slowly leak into my carpet. No wonder I couldn't figure out where that musty smell was coming from. He also ate my honey nut Cheerios. I figured out once and for all that I hate, with a capital H- Hate, canned meat of any kind when I went to use the chicken in a recipe. Slowly but surely, the canned fruit and vegetables made it into various casseroles and baked desserts.
So come January (when I first discovered the emptied and shriveled jugs of water), I looked down into my hurricane basket and sighed. What had been a full basket that would carry me through the h-e-double hockey sticks that would be a category 3 hurricane was now a pink basket with a container of Purell and a box of mixed cutlery.
Since then, I've started adding back to my little stash. Like I said- I hate canned chicken, but I now have a few cans of beans, a container of peanut butter, a can of almonds, and some Ravioli for protein purposes. Triscuits are in still in the box, and I added some club crackers. I found some high fructose-free applesauce cups for half price with a coupon, and I decided to make my peace with the canned peas and carrots. (Somehow they will get mixed in with something I actually like.)
The water is now on the top shelf, far away from the dog's fangs. I found out that Bi-Lo offers a "buy the name brand, get our store brand free" offer for some yummy granola bars, and I splurged on more juice boxes and Capri Suns. I figure if I'm going to be cowering for protection in my closet, I may as well have all kinds of yumminess nearby. Speaking of that...maybe I should get a little chocolate?
All in all, Alberto is far away tonight, so I have probably have at least another two months or so before there's any more mention of a hurricane. Also, the reality is, no matter how ready I think I am, I will still probably be scared out of my mind if anything heads toward Charleston. Additionally, I have set my hurricane category limit to "2." Anything more than a category 2 and I will be taking an impromptu vacation to Ohio. Or maybe Tennessee, since driving to Ohio would violate my "never driving 77 North alone again" rule.
In any case, I have a strawberry rhubarb pie to finish baking. Hopefully it will be as delicious as I am imagining. Have a great week everyone!
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Quiver
Quiver- verb- A slight trembling movement or sound, especially one caused by a sudden strong emotion.
I stood in the middle of my living room, lip quivering and eyes blinking hard to hold back the tears. I thought to myself, "Get it together, Kate! You're an adult for goodness' sake!" A few seconds and a couple of deep breaths later, I had calmed down enough to return to the project I had been working on, but the emotion of that moment stuck with me for a while longer.
I like to think I'm "big and bad" in trying times, meaning that I have control over any situation and can handle any problems that come my way in a cool, calm, and collected manner. I like to think that in difficult situations, I always act like I did last Wednesday. That day I had clients angry at me, the regional education director wanting to know why we hadn't started utilizing our new lesson plans, project managers pressuring me to finish a project I had no control over, and the new trainee playing "Twenty-One Hundred Questions" with me. Oh, and I was having a bad hair day and my shoe was starting to fall apart.
But it all ended up being just fine- the clients may not have left happy, but they were treated politely and fairly in a timely manner. My director was accepting of the reasons why we hadn't started the new lessons and left the clinic smiling. The project manager and I reached an understanding as to what I needed before I could finish my part of the project, and the new trainee ended up following another co-worker. My cute new headband took care of the bad hair day and a piece of Scotch tape fixed the shoe long enough for me to make it through the day.
With that said, what I want isn't always what I get, and how I think I should act isn't always what happens! Monday was a stressful day at work- we had no electricity, internet, or phones when I got to work and my car battery died and needed replaced when I left work. I handled the work problems professionally, but broke down and cried when it came to the car. I was emotionally spent by the time I got home and sat down to dinner.
More frazzled than ever at this point, I was sitting at the computer and trying to focus on an article I was writing, when all of the sudden a loud boom sounded directly over my head. My new neighbor, whose existence I kept forgetting, had dropped something on the floor. The loud noise, coupled with inattention to my surroundings, startled me so much that I jumped out of my chair, screamed, and ran into the living room. That's why I was standing in the middle of the room fighting back tears. After the shock wore off, I was so mad at my reaction that I was no longer crying from fear, but from frustration.
The latter is an example what typically happens when I come up against conflict, fear, or frustration- a quivering lip, followed by a flood of emotions. It's a maddening process. Thankfully, with some prayer and persistence, I'm starting to skew towards a more calm approach to trials and tribulations, as well as being able to accept my shortcomings and laugh at myself more. (It's a slow transition, to be sure!) By bedtime Monday, I was laughing at my reaction and I had even shared the incident with my sister, who also laughed at me!
For the time being, I'll settle for a happy medium- like Wednesday night. After my marathon day at work, I came home to an eerily dark and still apartment. Turns out my building had been directly struck by lighting and had tripped the main breaker to my apartment. After consulting with my neighbors, I called the office and waited for maintenance to come help, all the while bemoaning the fact that I'd have to spend my ENTIRE day off working with State Farm to file a claim for my damaged electronics after I got rid of all the spoiled food in my fridge and freezer. I was mostly calm, with just a little bit of doom and gloom. As it turned out, with one flip of a switch our maintenance worker restored power to my apartment and the food and electronics were all just fine.
As we draw to a close today, I would like to convey well wishes to my maternal unit. Since it's been raining most of the afternoon, I've been thinking back to a Mother's Day about ten years ago. We had been enjoying our tent, but due to some heavy rains it had become inundated with water. We crammed ten people into a friend's camper for the night in order for my family to escape the flood. The next morning, all ten of us went to brunch at a local restaurant. Unshowered and wearing our slightly damp and grungy camping clothes, we sure were a sight against all of the moms in their floral print Sunday best! Ah memories!
I stood in the middle of my living room, lip quivering and eyes blinking hard to hold back the tears. I thought to myself, "Get it together, Kate! You're an adult for goodness' sake!" A few seconds and a couple of deep breaths later, I had calmed down enough to return to the project I had been working on, but the emotion of that moment stuck with me for a while longer.
I like to think I'm "big and bad" in trying times, meaning that I have control over any situation and can handle any problems that come my way in a cool, calm, and collected manner. I like to think that in difficult situations, I always act like I did last Wednesday. That day I had clients angry at me, the regional education director wanting to know why we hadn't started utilizing our new lesson plans, project managers pressuring me to finish a project I had no control over, and the new trainee playing "Twenty-One Hundred Questions" with me. Oh, and I was having a bad hair day and my shoe was starting to fall apart.
But it all ended up being just fine- the clients may not have left happy, but they were treated politely and fairly in a timely manner. My director was accepting of the reasons why we hadn't started the new lessons and left the clinic smiling. The project manager and I reached an understanding as to what I needed before I could finish my part of the project, and the new trainee ended up following another co-worker. My cute new headband took care of the bad hair day and a piece of Scotch tape fixed the shoe long enough for me to make it through the day.
With that said, what I want isn't always what I get, and how I think I should act isn't always what happens! Monday was a stressful day at work- we had no electricity, internet, or phones when I got to work and my car battery died and needed replaced when I left work. I handled the work problems professionally, but broke down and cried when it came to the car. I was emotionally spent by the time I got home and sat down to dinner.
More frazzled than ever at this point, I was sitting at the computer and trying to focus on an article I was writing, when all of the sudden a loud boom sounded directly over my head. My new neighbor, whose existence I kept forgetting, had dropped something on the floor. The loud noise, coupled with inattention to my surroundings, startled me so much that I jumped out of my chair, screamed, and ran into the living room. That's why I was standing in the middle of the room fighting back tears. After the shock wore off, I was so mad at my reaction that I was no longer crying from fear, but from frustration.
The latter is an example what typically happens when I come up against conflict, fear, or frustration- a quivering lip, followed by a flood of emotions. It's a maddening process. Thankfully, with some prayer and persistence, I'm starting to skew towards a more calm approach to trials and tribulations, as well as being able to accept my shortcomings and laugh at myself more. (It's a slow transition, to be sure!) By bedtime Monday, I was laughing at my reaction and I had even shared the incident with my sister, who also laughed at me!
For the time being, I'll settle for a happy medium- like Wednesday night. After my marathon day at work, I came home to an eerily dark and still apartment. Turns out my building had been directly struck by lighting and had tripped the main breaker to my apartment. After consulting with my neighbors, I called the office and waited for maintenance to come help, all the while bemoaning the fact that I'd have to spend my ENTIRE day off working with State Farm to file a claim for my damaged electronics after I got rid of all the spoiled food in my fridge and freezer. I was mostly calm, with just a little bit of doom and gloom. As it turned out, with one flip of a switch our maintenance worker restored power to my apartment and the food and electronics were all just fine.
As we draw to a close today, I would like to convey well wishes to my maternal unit. Since it's been raining most of the afternoon, I've been thinking back to a Mother's Day about ten years ago. We had been enjoying our tent, but due to some heavy rains it had become inundated with water. We crammed ten people into a friend's camper for the night in order for my family to escape the flood. The next morning, all ten of us went to brunch at a local restaurant. Unshowered and wearing our slightly damp and grungy camping clothes, we sure were a sight against all of the moms in their floral print Sunday best! Ah memories!
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Paradise
Paradise- noun- a place of extreme beauty, happiness, or delight.
With a contented sigh, I stretched out as best I could. Complete relaxation came quickly as my head rested in my intertwined hands and my legs crossed at my ankles. I'd had a pretty decent day at work, my dinner was delicious, the dog and I had gone on a pleasant walk, and with tonight's bike ride I was beginning to notice the positive effects of daily cycling. At this moment, I was relishing in the near perfection of the day and felt like I was floating on air.
As I stared up into the sky, I watched the moon transition from a mere shadow partly obscured by clouds to a bright shape that heralded the coming dusk.
The few wispy clouds that were making their way across the sky allowed me to see a "caramel-colored sunset sky." Golden-brown in color, I couldn't believe I had never before seen clouds quite that color.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the breeze was picking up and I watched the American flag begin to wave ever so slightly. I watched as that same breeze moved the trees from their staunch position and caused the branches to sway ever so rhythmically.
By now the clouds had moved on to the east, leaving nothing but clear blue sky above me. It made for a striking backdrop as a flock of pure white seabirds flew overhead.
I closed my eyes again and relished the moment. With a deep breath I took in the slight scent of the privet hedge blossoms, a not-too-distant barbecue, the blooming magnolias, and just a whiff of chlorine from the pool.
Yes, floating in the pool that evening proved to be wonderful. But the best moment of the night came as a small voice from behind caused me to stir from my trance: "Mommy, why do I have to go?" "Because it's almost bedtime sweetie." "But if I have to go to bed, why doesn't she?!" I never heard the mom's reply because I was chuckling quite a bit as I thought to myself, "Because I'm an adult and I don't have to go inside and go to bed until I want to!" That moment felt like a childhood wish had been fulfilled and it made my night. Pure delight and happiness right there.
Well, it is just about time to head out to the pool again. Such a hard life I lead, I know. Have a fun, safe, and happy week everyone, and join me in enjoying the fact that a full moon happened over the weekend, and not while I was in clinic with my clients.
With a contented sigh, I stretched out as best I could. Complete relaxation came quickly as my head rested in my intertwined hands and my legs crossed at my ankles. I'd had a pretty decent day at work, my dinner was delicious, the dog and I had gone on a pleasant walk, and with tonight's bike ride I was beginning to notice the positive effects of daily cycling. At this moment, I was relishing in the near perfection of the day and felt like I was floating on air.
As I stared up into the sky, I watched the moon transition from a mere shadow partly obscured by clouds to a bright shape that heralded the coming dusk.
The few wispy clouds that were making their way across the sky allowed me to see a "caramel-colored sunset sky." Golden-brown in color, I couldn't believe I had never before seen clouds quite that color.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the breeze was picking up and I watched the American flag begin to wave ever so slightly. I watched as that same breeze moved the trees from their staunch position and caused the branches to sway ever so rhythmically.
By now the clouds had moved on to the east, leaving nothing but clear blue sky above me. It made for a striking backdrop as a flock of pure white seabirds flew overhead.
I closed my eyes again and relished the moment. With a deep breath I took in the slight scent of the privet hedge blossoms, a not-too-distant barbecue, the blooming magnolias, and just a whiff of chlorine from the pool.
Yes, floating in the pool that evening proved to be wonderful. But the best moment of the night came as a small voice from behind caused me to stir from my trance: "Mommy, why do I have to go?" "Because it's almost bedtime sweetie." "But if I have to go to bed, why doesn't she?!" I never heard the mom's reply because I was chuckling quite a bit as I thought to myself, "Because I'm an adult and I don't have to go inside and go to bed until I want to!" That moment felt like a childhood wish had been fulfilled and it made my night. Pure delight and happiness right there.
Well, it is just about time to head out to the pool again. Such a hard life I lead, I know. Have a fun, safe, and happy week everyone, and join me in enjoying the fact that a full moon happened over the weekend, and not while I was in clinic with my clients.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
O.A.R.S.
O.A.R.S.- Open-ended questions, affirmation, reflection, summary.
Meetings. Love them or hate them, they're a part of the business world, and WIC is no exception. Several times per year, the entire region shuts down and we head to training sessions that cover various topics, all in the hopes that we'll continually improve as workers and make the world a better place.
We had another meeting today, and among the topics was O.A.R.S. In a WIC certification (getting a person on the WIC program), we are supposed to converse with the client, find out what they want to talk about, what their concerns are, and then help them come up with their own goals and solutions to their problems. In all seriousness, it is actually a helpful tool and can make the entire process much more pleasant for everyone involved. But when I get distracted in a meeting and am no longer paying attention to the next topic on the list (which we've covered quite a few times), I use O.A.R.S. as a source of amusement.
The correct way to use O.A.R.S:
Me: What concerns do you have for your child today? (open-ended question)
Client: He eats all of his foods except meat, and I don't want him to lose out on any nutrients.
Me: That's great that you're concerned about his nutrition. (affirmation)
Client: Yes, I want him to be healthy.
Me: So you want your child to be healthy, and you want to make sure he's getting enough protein in his diet.
(reflection)
Client: Yes.
<we talk for a few minutes about sources of protein...>
Me: So you were concerned about your child not eating meat, but you think he would like some of these other sources of protein, and that will make you feel better about his nutrition? (summary)
Client: Yes. Thank you. You're the best WIC nutritionist ever! (All example dialogue for these meetings is ridiculously cheesy. Why not write some cheesy dialogue that benefits my ego?)
The incorrect way to use O.A.R.S., or "if I had used O.A.R.S. with other people I encountered today":
Me: Why did you think it was important to pull out right in front of me this morning? (question!)
Me: That's great that you wanted to save time and get to that McDonald's down the road faster than if you had waited ten seconds for me to pass. (affirmation)
Me: So, you had to pull out in front of me just then so you could both get coffee and make it to work on time. (reflection)
Me: You were running late but still wanted your coffee and you had faith that I was paying attention to you and would stop in time, which I did. (summary)
Over the next half hour, I thought a lot about O.A.R.S. and how fun it can be if used in the right way, with the right sense of humor. I may have to break this out at family reunions. Well, I'm falling asleep at my keyboard, so I should probably move on to some other activity. TTFN!
Meetings. Love them or hate them, they're a part of the business world, and WIC is no exception. Several times per year, the entire region shuts down and we head to training sessions that cover various topics, all in the hopes that we'll continually improve as workers and make the world a better place.
We had another meeting today, and among the topics was O.A.R.S. In a WIC certification (getting a person on the WIC program), we are supposed to converse with the client, find out what they want to talk about, what their concerns are, and then help them come up with their own goals and solutions to their problems. In all seriousness, it is actually a helpful tool and can make the entire process much more pleasant for everyone involved. But when I get distracted in a meeting and am no longer paying attention to the next topic on the list (which we've covered quite a few times), I use O.A.R.S. as a source of amusement.
The correct way to use O.A.R.S:
Me: What concerns do you have for your child today? (open-ended question)
Client: He eats all of his foods except meat, and I don't want him to lose out on any nutrients.
Me: That's great that you're concerned about his nutrition. (affirmation)
Client: Yes, I want him to be healthy.
Me: So you want your child to be healthy, and you want to make sure he's getting enough protein in his diet.
(reflection)
Client: Yes.
<we talk for a few minutes about sources of protein...>
Me: So you were concerned about your child not eating meat, but you think he would like some of these other sources of protein, and that will make you feel better about his nutrition? (summary)
Client: Yes. Thank you. You're the best WIC nutritionist ever! (All example dialogue for these meetings is ridiculously cheesy. Why not write some cheesy dialogue that benefits my ego?)
The incorrect way to use O.A.R.S., or "if I had used O.A.R.S. with other people I encountered today":
Me: Why did you think it was important to pull out right in front of me this morning? (question!)
Me: That's great that you wanted to save time and get to that McDonald's down the road faster than if you had waited ten seconds for me to pass. (affirmation)
Me: So, you had to pull out in front of me just then so you could both get coffee and make it to work on time. (reflection)
Me: You were running late but still wanted your coffee and you had faith that I was paying attention to you and would stop in time, which I did. (summary)
Over the next half hour, I thought a lot about O.A.R.S. and how fun it can be if used in the right way, with the right sense of humor. I may have to break this out at family reunions. Well, I'm falling asleep at my keyboard, so I should probably move on to some other activity. TTFN!
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Noxious
Noxious- adj- harmful, poisonous, or very unpleasant.
A couple of weeks ago, the regional director of the Department of Health came to Summerville. The purpose of his visit that day was to inspect the office and make sure everything was in order before the new state director came to tour our facility. Halfway through his tour, he came to my office and noticed the terrific job the inmates from the local detention center had done painting my office. (They painted AROUND my desk and a 2’ x 3’ poster that has since been removed from my office). As he left the office, he talked about the need to paint the entire health department, but then laughed as he said, “and as soon as I do that, I’ll get twenty complaints about the smell of the paint.”
After he left, I was thinking about what he said and decided it was a little ridiculous that we would complain that much about a positive change, particularly after we had complained so much about the terrible paint job in the past. So when we found out we were getting new flooring put in the office, I decided I would not complain about any noxious smells involved with the new flooring.
Thursday after lunch, we began the cleaning process. Everything in our offices had to be removed- every last piece of paper, every random toy we had for the kids, and all the furniture. As you can imagine, there was dust everywhere. To combat the dust, there were no less than four cans of generic Pledge floating around the office, and the sound of aerosol spray being released was constant for those several hours we spent cleaning. But I was not going to complain about the migraine-inducing lemon and orange vapor cloud that was hanging in the hallway like everyone else was.
Friday morning, the first thing the workers did was tear up the old carpeting. Ten years of dirty shoes, spilled juice, and infant bowel movements and spit-up (its happened more than once) were in that carpet, so it certainly didn’t smell the best. But I was just happy the carpet was leaving, so I wasn’t going to complain.
Apparently there were a few spots that needed to be leveled out, so some kind of weird cement-like compound was mixed and placed on the floor. It smelled like limestone and they carried the open container of the mixture through the office for a good half hour. I was good though, I ignored my co-workers comments about the smell and kept on working.
The worst part of the process for a lot of my co-workers was the adhesive that was used for the tiles. I’ll admit, it wasn’t that pleasant, but since we were now less than one hour away from having new, clean flooring, I wasn’t saying a word to detract from this great joy.
All day long, everyone who stopped by my office had something to say about the smell. It was just like talking about the weather: “Hey, did you see they got the carpet out of Sharon’s room? But that smell is overpowering.” “Wow, Wynne’s room looks a lot brighter with that new flooring. I hope that smell goes away by Monday” It’s just what we said as we made our way through the day.
Finally, about four, my co-worker came around with my last client’s chart. “Aren’t you bothered by that smell? I can’t stand it! Why couldn’t they do it on Saturday? I’m going outside to get some fresh air before I get sick.” As I took a breath and opened my mouth to start my speech about being happy that we were getting new floors and not complaining about the smell, I choked on the heavy floral scent of her hand lotion.
After my brief coughing fit ended, we ended up staring at each other for a few seconds while she waited for my response to her statement. Several different thoughts ran through my mind, including the original speech about not complaining and a different speech about her hand lotion. Finally, upon realizing the absurdity of complaining about smells to a woman complaining about smells, I smiled my best smile and said, “Why don’t we walk outside and get some fresh air?”
All’s well that ends well- the new floors are all in and there’s no sign of any painting in the near future, so we’re not likely to encounter any noxious smells anytime soon, save for some dirty diapers here and there.
Well, it’s ninety degrees outside right now and I want to go swim, so that is what I’m off to do! Have a wonderful week. Good luck to my friends who have finals coming up, Happy Birthday to my Grandpa Henry, and to everyone else- have a fun Monday at work!
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Misery
Misery- noun- pain, physical or mental.
I laid there, eyes wide open, contemplating my next move. If I moved to the right, I "knew" I would suffocate. If I moved to the left, the pain of a thousand knives stabbing my flesh would flood my body. I cried out, only to hear a low croak emitting from my mouth. This wasn't a nightmare, this was reality.
Twenty-four hours later, I lay on a table, doing my best to breath evenly as a third vein in my arm was being punctured. This time, my throat felt like it was closing up on me and I was experiencing that pain of a thousand knives again. Again, this was reality.
So what the heck was going on? What kind of craziness was I getting myself into? Honestly, it was nothing more than me just being a very over dramatic sick person.
It all started off with a sore throat. While I've had increased run-ins with colds and whatnot since I've moved here, whatever malady comes my way usually resolves itself within a day or so and I'm only sad and unhappy for a short time. But this sore throat/cold had plagued me for several days (of course while my family was visiting and we were going to all kind of beautiful places!) and finally got worse. Friday night, if I tried to lay on my stomach (moving to the right from my side sleeping position!), the congestion would quickly become so bad that I would have to move again if I wanted to continue breathing. Twenty-four hours later, my tonsils were so swollen that if felt like they were overtaking my entire mouth.
As for those thousand knives, those are all my fault. Friday was beach day, so we took a trip to beautiful Beachwalker County Park on Kiawah Island. Being an intelligent adult, I applied sunscreen before we got to the beach. Being unintelligent, I waded in the water with my aunt, took turns trying out my body board with my cousin, and then laid in the sun while I read an entire magazine, all without ever reapplying sunscreen. By the time we left, I was a little annoyed at what I thought was saltwater stinging my legs. As it turns out, it wasn't saltwater as much as it was serious burns on the backs of my leg and my upper back. That night, to turn left from my side sleeping position would cause ridiculous amounts of pain as my body protested the feeling of sheets against my legs.
The low croak was probably the best part of the story. Anymore, I lose my voice so quickly when I get sick. So even though I wanted to cry out in pain that night, all that came out was a sound that could probably be described as "effeminate Wookie." The best moment was when my dog ran by me, full of enthusiasm, only to strike me with his very, very strong tail. I full-out screamed in pain, but all that came out was a short, pathetic, "ugh." I started laughing at myself, only to find that now, no sound was coming out at all. I probably stood there for thirty seconds, looking like I was stroking out as my body shook with silent laughter.
The official diagnosis today at the doctor's was, "Your strep test came back negative, but you have all the symptoms, so here's a z-pack, go have some antibiotics." After the initial strep test came back negative, they wanted to rule out mono, so new Medical Assistant tried unsuccessfully, twice, to get blood out of me. Finally the more experienced tech came in and was successful in obtaining a testing sample, so I only have three holes in my arms right now.
So here I am, sitting on my couch on this fine Sunday afternoon, still unhappy with the situation and cursing my decision to not buy Popsicles and chicken noodle soup when I was at the store. I demand that someone come to my house and take care of me until I no longer feel sick. I don't care if you have to drive 700 miles to get here, I just need you to come here and cook, clean, and entertain for the next five days until I am no longer in misery. Thank you in advance for your sacrifice.
In all seriousness though, I am hopefully on the mend. I am hoping my double dose of antibiotics works some magic here in the next several hours (remember that episode of the Magic School Bus where they learn about viruses and whatnot? I am envisioning that!) Have a wonderful Sunday evening, and remember your sunscreen. Always remember your sunscreen!
I laid there, eyes wide open, contemplating my next move. If I moved to the right, I "knew" I would suffocate. If I moved to the left, the pain of a thousand knives stabbing my flesh would flood my body. I cried out, only to hear a low croak emitting from my mouth. This wasn't a nightmare, this was reality.
Twenty-four hours later, I lay on a table, doing my best to breath evenly as a third vein in my arm was being punctured. This time, my throat felt like it was closing up on me and I was experiencing that pain of a thousand knives again. Again, this was reality.
So what the heck was going on? What kind of craziness was I getting myself into? Honestly, it was nothing more than me just being a very over dramatic sick person.
It all started off with a sore throat. While I've had increased run-ins with colds and whatnot since I've moved here, whatever malady comes my way usually resolves itself within a day or so and I'm only sad and unhappy for a short time. But this sore throat/cold had plagued me for several days (of course while my family was visiting and we were going to all kind of beautiful places!) and finally got worse. Friday night, if I tried to lay on my stomach (moving to the right from my side sleeping position!), the congestion would quickly become so bad that I would have to move again if I wanted to continue breathing. Twenty-four hours later, my tonsils were so swollen that if felt like they were overtaking my entire mouth.
As for those thousand knives, those are all my fault. Friday was beach day, so we took a trip to beautiful Beachwalker County Park on Kiawah Island. Being an intelligent adult, I applied sunscreen before we got to the beach. Being unintelligent, I waded in the water with my aunt, took turns trying out my body board with my cousin, and then laid in the sun while I read an entire magazine, all without ever reapplying sunscreen. By the time we left, I was a little annoyed at what I thought was saltwater stinging my legs. As it turns out, it wasn't saltwater as much as it was serious burns on the backs of my leg and my upper back. That night, to turn left from my side sleeping position would cause ridiculous amounts of pain as my body protested the feeling of sheets against my legs.
The low croak was probably the best part of the story. Anymore, I lose my voice so quickly when I get sick. So even though I wanted to cry out in pain that night, all that came out was a sound that could probably be described as "effeminate Wookie." The best moment was when my dog ran by me, full of enthusiasm, only to strike me with his very, very strong tail. I full-out screamed in pain, but all that came out was a short, pathetic, "ugh." I started laughing at myself, only to find that now, no sound was coming out at all. I probably stood there for thirty seconds, looking like I was stroking out as my body shook with silent laughter.
The official diagnosis today at the doctor's was, "Your strep test came back negative, but you have all the symptoms, so here's a z-pack, go have some antibiotics." After the initial strep test came back negative, they wanted to rule out mono, so new Medical Assistant tried unsuccessfully, twice, to get blood out of me. Finally the more experienced tech came in and was successful in obtaining a testing sample, so I only have three holes in my arms right now.
So here I am, sitting on my couch on this fine Sunday afternoon, still unhappy with the situation and cursing my decision to not buy Popsicles and chicken noodle soup when I was at the store. I demand that someone come to my house and take care of me until I no longer feel sick. I don't care if you have to drive 700 miles to get here, I just need you to come here and cook, clean, and entertain for the next five days until I am no longer in misery. Thank you in advance for your sacrifice.
In all seriousness though, I am hopefully on the mend. I am hoping my double dose of antibiotics works some magic here in the next several hours (remember that episode of the Magic School Bus where they learn about viruses and whatnot? I am envisioning that!) Have a wonderful Sunday evening, and remember your sunscreen. Always remember your sunscreen!
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Lizard
Lizard- noun- any of numerous reptiles of the suborder Sauria or Lacertilia, characteristically having a scaly, elongated body, movable eyelids, four legs, and a tapering tale.
There I stood, mid-thigh deep in the Edisto River. Cooper was on his leash, splashing around and just generally acting like this was the best day of his life. I had come to this place for a change of pace for the weekend, and it was wonderful. Peace and happiness would be mine for the remainder of this moment.
We had taken a mini-road trip (it's not a road trip unless it's at least an hour away) to a local state park. I wanted to go hiking, and I knew Cooper would appreciate a long walk AND a car ride. So I packed a lunch and we piled into the car, and half an hour later we were at the foot of the nature trail, ready to head out.
The trail was small and not the most well-marked path I had ever been on, so half of my attention was focused on where I was going. Also, I have yet to buy bug spray, so the rest of my attention was on the mosquitoes swarming around my uncovered, unprotected arms. Suddenly, my focus shifted as the dog bolted ahead, then jumped to the side, and finally ended up behind my legs, pushing me forward.
Let me just say, there are a million creepy crawlies in this state that I am unfamiliar with, and I consider them all venomous until proven innocent. Whenever I'm somewhere new, I'm always fearful that they are hiding nearby, waiting to strike. So upon watching my normally "chill" dog flip out, a number of thoughts raced through my mind. Included among these thoughts were: "Don't scream, there's no reason to panic. Wait, maybe I should scream, so when the snake bites me, someone will have come running to my rescue and we can get to the hospital faster. Where is it? What is it? Why did my dog push ME towards the killer boa constrictor, aren't dogs supposed to be man's best friend and protect me?!" Yeah. I'm all about panicking for no reason.
Finally I spotted the little offender. It was a green anole whose sunbathing we had interrupted, and Wonder Dog had been startled by the little guy's acrobatic leaps from stair to tree to nearby log. Seeing this, I was thankful, because anoles are pretty harmless little guys. In fact, just this morning I watched one crawl across my patio, drink some standing water, and then show off his little red throat fan. I actually will go so far as to call them cute. So with an annoyed sigh, I summoned my questionably faithful companion (who was now urinating on a tree) and continued on down the path.
About an hour later we finished our hike with the only additional wildlife encounter being a bright red cardinal who was picking the forest floor for something. Upon finding out that there was a river nearby (my geographical knowledge of this state is pitiful), I took Cooper on down toward the bank so we could relax in the shade. It turned out to be the best idea of the day, as I got to sit and eat lunch while watching a Hispanic church have their Easter service right there by the river, baptizing a few members and singing beautiful songs I didn't understand except for the word "Hallelujah." It was quite wonderful.
This brings us back to the beginning of this story. After the church group headed towards their picnic area, several of us who had been hanging back waded into the river. I was enthralled with the soft sand under my feet and the beautiful scenery around me, and Cooper was literally diving into the water after leaves. It was even more amusing when he realized his feet couldn't touch the bottom anymore, because rather than dog paddle back towards shore, he did a wave motion jump to try and move around.
A couple of younger girls were wading nearby and came over to pet Cooper. Through the course of conversation, I mentioned that we had never visited this particular park before. One of the girls and her mother started pointing out the various features of the park. The next words out of the girl's mouth ended these peaceful moments I've been describing. As we stood there, enjoying the water, the girl said, "And look, there's ONE of the alligators."
I don't know about you, but I do not swim with alligators. Immediately I dragged Cooper out of the water, covering the ten feet to shore in record time. The girl and her mom both laughed at my alarm, but were kind enough to take me to a safe viewing area and point out the beast. "Don't worry, they don't bother us, but I wouldn't let your dog around him." As I was clearly still concerned, the mom's reassuring words were, "Just give it a little space and think of it as nothing more than a big lizard, and you'll be just as comfortable swimming here as the rest of us."
I gave a pleasant thank you and good-bye and headed back towards the car. On the way back, I kept thinking about my "lizard" encounters for the day, laughed at the outrageous scenarios of each one, and decided that I will take anoles over alligators any day.
Now, safely back on dry land, it's time to go make some "Easter dinner" foods and make some preparations for my visiting relatives who will be here soon. Yay! Have a wonderful week, and be thankful that there are no alligators in River Styx.
There I stood, mid-thigh deep in the Edisto River. Cooper was on his leash, splashing around and just generally acting like this was the best day of his life. I had come to this place for a change of pace for the weekend, and it was wonderful. Peace and happiness would be mine for the remainder of this moment.
We had taken a mini-road trip (it's not a road trip unless it's at least an hour away) to a local state park. I wanted to go hiking, and I knew Cooper would appreciate a long walk AND a car ride. So I packed a lunch and we piled into the car, and half an hour later we were at the foot of the nature trail, ready to head out.
The trail was small and not the most well-marked path I had ever been on, so half of my attention was focused on where I was going. Also, I have yet to buy bug spray, so the rest of my attention was on the mosquitoes swarming around my uncovered, unprotected arms. Suddenly, my focus shifted as the dog bolted ahead, then jumped to the side, and finally ended up behind my legs, pushing me forward.
Let me just say, there are a million creepy crawlies in this state that I am unfamiliar with, and I consider them all venomous until proven innocent. Whenever I'm somewhere new, I'm always fearful that they are hiding nearby, waiting to strike. So upon watching my normally "chill" dog flip out, a number of thoughts raced through my mind. Included among these thoughts were: "Don't scream, there's no reason to panic. Wait, maybe I should scream, so when the snake bites me, someone will have come running to my rescue and we can get to the hospital faster. Where is it? What is it? Why did my dog push ME towards the killer boa constrictor, aren't dogs supposed to be man's best friend and protect me?!" Yeah. I'm all about panicking for no reason.
Finally I spotted the little offender. It was a green anole whose sunbathing we had interrupted, and Wonder Dog had been startled by the little guy's acrobatic leaps from stair to tree to nearby log. Seeing this, I was thankful, because anoles are pretty harmless little guys. In fact, just this morning I watched one crawl across my patio, drink some standing water, and then show off his little red throat fan. I actually will go so far as to call them cute. So with an annoyed sigh, I summoned my questionably faithful companion (who was now urinating on a tree) and continued on down the path.
About an hour later we finished our hike with the only additional wildlife encounter being a bright red cardinal who was picking the forest floor for something. Upon finding out that there was a river nearby (my geographical knowledge of this state is pitiful), I took Cooper on down toward the bank so we could relax in the shade. It turned out to be the best idea of the day, as I got to sit and eat lunch while watching a Hispanic church have their Easter service right there by the river, baptizing a few members and singing beautiful songs I didn't understand except for the word "Hallelujah." It was quite wonderful.
This brings us back to the beginning of this story. After the church group headed towards their picnic area, several of us who had been hanging back waded into the river. I was enthralled with the soft sand under my feet and the beautiful scenery around me, and Cooper was literally diving into the water after leaves. It was even more amusing when he realized his feet couldn't touch the bottom anymore, because rather than dog paddle back towards shore, he did a wave motion jump to try and move around.
A couple of younger girls were wading nearby and came over to pet Cooper. Through the course of conversation, I mentioned that we had never visited this particular park before. One of the girls and her mother started pointing out the various features of the park. The next words out of the girl's mouth ended these peaceful moments I've been describing. As we stood there, enjoying the water, the girl said, "And look, there's ONE of the alligators."
I don't know about you, but I do not swim with alligators. Immediately I dragged Cooper out of the water, covering the ten feet to shore in record time. The girl and her mom both laughed at my alarm, but were kind enough to take me to a safe viewing area and point out the beast. "Don't worry, they don't bother us, but I wouldn't let your dog around him." As I was clearly still concerned, the mom's reassuring words were, "Just give it a little space and think of it as nothing more than a big lizard, and you'll be just as comfortable swimming here as the rest of us."
I gave a pleasant thank you and good-bye and headed back towards the car. On the way back, I kept thinking about my "lizard" encounters for the day, laughed at the outrageous scenarios of each one, and decided that I will take anoles over alligators any day.
Now, safely back on dry land, it's time to go make some "Easter dinner" foods and make some preparations for my visiting relatives who will be here soon. Yay! Have a wonderful week, and be thankful that there are no alligators in River Styx.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
KSA
KSA- noun- an acronym that stands for Knowledge, Skills, and Abilities. This term can describe a candidate for employment, a current employee, or a job position.
KSA's. I swear they never covered these in my professional development class in college. Granted, we were more focused on begging for internship spots and applying for grad school, but with the prevalence of this term on job applications and the like, you'd think there would have at least been a paragraph or two for us.
The government seems to like KSAs a lot. Of all the jobs I applied for right out of college, only the government jobs asked for this. The first few times, I struggled while writing my statements. After all, wasn't the point of the cover letter, the resume, and my references supposed to cover this? And didn't someone tell me that I shouldn't repeat the same information over and over again? How else can I present this? Maybe I'll write a paragraph or two of prose to cover that information...
Eventually, I became proficient on writing my KSA statements. They really just became one more instance where I could spin the same mundane terms into ridiculously technical celebrations of my very minor accomplishments as a college student. Ultimately, I got my job here at DHEC and totally forgot about KSAs. That is, I forgot about them until last month.
Living in a hurricane-prone area, you can imagine that there is quite a lot of preparation for a natural disaster that might never happen. We have several trainings each year, refresher e-learning courses, and a gosh-awful eight-hour educational nightmare courtesy of FEMA. New to me this year was a KSA questionnaire that more or less asked us what we could help out with after a hurricane. By far, this was the most interesting KSA I've ever had the pleasure of completing.
First we had to sign off that we understood the following terms that we would use to rate our proficiency in the various fields listed. For example: "Experts" could successfully complete a task in a given subject area and lead others. "Skilled" individuals would be able to successfully complete a project with no supervision. "Novices" would know what they were doing, but would need supervision. The state would assume anyone who checked "no" would not know anything about the given field.
Some of my co-workers gave great and careful thought to their answers. They checked "novice" in a number of areas and used the comment box like crazy, explaining things like, "Yes, I can speak basic Spanish and would be able to provide basic instructions to a Hispanic client, but I'm not fluent," or "I probably could direct traffic, but I would want someone else with me." Then there was me- I decided that if I didn't want to be put in a situation where I would be more of a hindrance than a help, I wasn't clicking anything but "no."
The KSA was VERY through. There were questions about specific fields like engineering and biology, questions about training we had received, professional licenses we held, etc.. My favorite part though was the assortment of questions related to completely random topics. With these questions, we were asked to rate our ability on things like forklift operating, graphic art design, and public speaking. I felt fairly confident in a few of these areas, so as of last month the state knows that in addition to my normal, boring, everyday job-specific skills, I am proficient with most of the Microsoft Office suite, I can copy write, I am health educator extraordinaire, and I can take care of farm animals.
It's the little things that provide amusement. While just a minor bit of paperwork, this project provided my clinic with a few hours of excitement. And this year, if there is a hurricane, I might just be taking care of some cows. Which actually, wouldn't be bad, because I have this really random dream to show cows at the fair, and taking care of cows would be, like, one step below that. On a more normal note- enjoy the nice weather, get a tan, and for all of you thinking about working for the government: get familiar with KSAs.
KSA's. I swear they never covered these in my professional development class in college. Granted, we were more focused on begging for internship spots and applying for grad school, but with the prevalence of this term on job applications and the like, you'd think there would have at least been a paragraph or two for us.
The government seems to like KSAs a lot. Of all the jobs I applied for right out of college, only the government jobs asked for this. The first few times, I struggled while writing my statements. After all, wasn't the point of the cover letter, the resume, and my references supposed to cover this? And didn't someone tell me that I shouldn't repeat the same information over and over again? How else can I present this? Maybe I'll write a paragraph or two of prose to cover that information...
Eventually, I became proficient on writing my KSA statements. They really just became one more instance where I could spin the same mundane terms into ridiculously technical celebrations of my very minor accomplishments as a college student. Ultimately, I got my job here at DHEC and totally forgot about KSAs. That is, I forgot about them until last month.
Living in a hurricane-prone area, you can imagine that there is quite a lot of preparation for a natural disaster that might never happen. We have several trainings each year, refresher e-learning courses, and a gosh-awful eight-hour educational nightmare courtesy of FEMA. New to me this year was a KSA questionnaire that more or less asked us what we could help out with after a hurricane. By far, this was the most interesting KSA I've ever had the pleasure of completing.
First we had to sign off that we understood the following terms that we would use to rate our proficiency in the various fields listed. For example: "Experts" could successfully complete a task in a given subject area and lead others. "Skilled" individuals would be able to successfully complete a project with no supervision. "Novices" would know what they were doing, but would need supervision. The state would assume anyone who checked "no" would not know anything about the given field.
Some of my co-workers gave great and careful thought to their answers. They checked "novice" in a number of areas and used the comment box like crazy, explaining things like, "Yes, I can speak basic Spanish and would be able to provide basic instructions to a Hispanic client, but I'm not fluent," or "I probably could direct traffic, but I would want someone else with me." Then there was me- I decided that if I didn't want to be put in a situation where I would be more of a hindrance than a help, I wasn't clicking anything but "no."
The KSA was VERY through. There were questions about specific fields like engineering and biology, questions about training we had received, professional licenses we held, etc.. My favorite part though was the assortment of questions related to completely random topics. With these questions, we were asked to rate our ability on things like forklift operating, graphic art design, and public speaking. I felt fairly confident in a few of these areas, so as of last month the state knows that in addition to my normal, boring, everyday job-specific skills, I am proficient with most of the Microsoft Office suite, I can copy write, I am health educator extraordinaire, and I can take care of farm animals.
It's the little things that provide amusement. While just a minor bit of paperwork, this project provided my clinic with a few hours of excitement. And this year, if there is a hurricane, I might just be taking care of some cows. Which actually, wouldn't be bad, because I have this really random dream to show cows at the fair, and taking care of cows would be, like, one step below that. On a more normal note- enjoy the nice weather, get a tan, and for all of you thinking about working for the government: get familiar with KSAs.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Joggle
Joggle-verb- move or cause to move with repeated small bobs or jerks.
Ten days after I moved here, and only my third day as a DHEC employee, I went to my first staff meeting. Not really knowing what to expect, I imagined it would be a long, drawn out event, where we discussed many important things relating to the office. In my mind, everyone would report on various things happening in their respective departments, and the meeting would take a good hour or so.
Not so. In a format that's been recreated 17 times since I've started working here, we had a brief meeting, followed by a minor report from another co-worker, and then we broke out to have department meetings. That first department meeting is where I first heard the word "joggle."
All of the WIC people had filed into the break room, and we started with introductions, seeing as how I knew no one. Before long, we were talking about various personal hobbies, and not long after that, someone brought up the topic of my supervisor's business, which she runs with her husband. Together, they build and sell joggling boards. I forget how she initially presented the concept of the business to us, but more than a few of us had a confused look on our face. After a few moments of purposely throwing around some business-related lingo to confuse us a little more for her amusement, she took a little time to explain what exactly she and her husband create. It's actually a pretty interesting lesson in history, so joggling boards will be today's topic. Enjoy your Southern trivia for the day!
First of all, let me describe a joggling board. Traditionally, they are made out of pine, which is a more pliant type of board. This is important, as the main function of the board is to move...a lot. The vertical ends of the boards have rockers on the bottom, allowing the board to move side to side, and are topped with decorative finials. The main part of the board itself can be somewhere between ten and sixteen feet, and is traditionally painted "Charleston green."
The history of the joggling board in the U.S. starts in Stateburg, South Carolina, at the Acton plantation. The owner of the plantation was a widowed man who, after the death of his wife, invited his sister to come live with him and take care of the house. The sister suffered from rheumatism, and wrote to some of her Scottish cousins about the toll the disease was taking on her body. According to popular lore, upon hearing that the previously active lady's only source of exercise was to ride around the plantation in a modified carriage that could accommodate her chair, her cousins sent her a model of a joggling board, hoping it would allow her to get some exercise that wouldn't exacerbate her condition.
It must have worked, or at least been interesting enough, because joggling boards soon became popular and started popping up all over the "Lowcountry" and remained popular until World War II, when the price of the materials used for the boards became prohibitive. Historians also like to point out that during the height of their popularity, joggling boards played a part in the courtship of many young Southern couples. According to historians, the man would sit on one end of the board and the woman on the opposite side, and through "joggling," they would eventually end up sitting together in the middle of the board.
So, by now you're either laughing at the word joggling, or just getting over laughing at the word. I purposely didn't try to define the term, other than what's at the beginning of the post, because I've found that I can't really do it justice. So rather than search for words I don't have, I'll leave you with this YouTube link. This is actually a joggling board my supervisor, Kristi, and her husband made and displayed at a local home show last year:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G43yIxuB8lo
I hope you've enjoyed this tiny peak into another part of Southern life. Happy Sunday!
Ten days after I moved here, and only my third day as a DHEC employee, I went to my first staff meeting. Not really knowing what to expect, I imagined it would be a long, drawn out event, where we discussed many important things relating to the office. In my mind, everyone would report on various things happening in their respective departments, and the meeting would take a good hour or so.
Not so. In a format that's been recreated 17 times since I've started working here, we had a brief meeting, followed by a minor report from another co-worker, and then we broke out to have department meetings. That first department meeting is where I first heard the word "joggle."
All of the WIC people had filed into the break room, and we started with introductions, seeing as how I knew no one. Before long, we were talking about various personal hobbies, and not long after that, someone brought up the topic of my supervisor's business, which she runs with her husband. Together, they build and sell joggling boards. I forget how she initially presented the concept of the business to us, but more than a few of us had a confused look on our face. After a few moments of purposely throwing around some business-related lingo to confuse us a little more for her amusement, she took a little time to explain what exactly she and her husband create. It's actually a pretty interesting lesson in history, so joggling boards will be today's topic. Enjoy your Southern trivia for the day!
First of all, let me describe a joggling board. Traditionally, they are made out of pine, which is a more pliant type of board. This is important, as the main function of the board is to move...a lot. The vertical ends of the boards have rockers on the bottom, allowing the board to move side to side, and are topped with decorative finials. The main part of the board itself can be somewhere between ten and sixteen feet, and is traditionally painted "Charleston green."
The history of the joggling board in the U.S. starts in Stateburg, South Carolina, at the Acton plantation. The owner of the plantation was a widowed man who, after the death of his wife, invited his sister to come live with him and take care of the house. The sister suffered from rheumatism, and wrote to some of her Scottish cousins about the toll the disease was taking on her body. According to popular lore, upon hearing that the previously active lady's only source of exercise was to ride around the plantation in a modified carriage that could accommodate her chair, her cousins sent her a model of a joggling board, hoping it would allow her to get some exercise that wouldn't exacerbate her condition.
It must have worked, or at least been interesting enough, because joggling boards soon became popular and started popping up all over the "Lowcountry" and remained popular until World War II, when the price of the materials used for the boards became prohibitive. Historians also like to point out that during the height of their popularity, joggling boards played a part in the courtship of many young Southern couples. According to historians, the man would sit on one end of the board and the woman on the opposite side, and through "joggling," they would eventually end up sitting together in the middle of the board.
So, by now you're either laughing at the word joggling, or just getting over laughing at the word. I purposely didn't try to define the term, other than what's at the beginning of the post, because I've found that I can't really do it justice. So rather than search for words I don't have, I'll leave you with this YouTube link. This is actually a joggling board my supervisor, Kristi, and her husband made and displayed at a local home show last year:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G43yIxuB8lo
I hope you've enjoyed this tiny peak into another part of Southern life. Happy Sunday!
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