This

I woke up late this morning (by choice), moved slowly through my morning routine (because it's cold), and was in a general, sleep-deprived haze. Needless to say, I was not functioning at full mental capacity. But right as I walked out the door, right when I looked over the frost-covered rooftops of my little town and took a deep breath of the clear, frigid winter air, I had a revelation so clear that I stopped dead in my tracks. No, I hadn't forgotten my keys inside or left the oven on (two things I've very nearly done before); I simply realized all the little things that led me to "This."

Darius Rucker is a favorite of mine, both because he has a great voice and because he's a tie of sorts to Charleston. I love his song, "This," where he's singing about all the little things we "miss" in life; from traffic lights to closed doors/lost opportunities, lead us to "this," our current place in life. I've been living a pretty happy life over the last six months, so even when I'm thinking about my old life in SC or struggling to establish myself in a new town, I don't feel like I've "missed" anything. But this morning, I realized all I missed, and how I ended up with all "this." Enjoy.

When I was in school, I was sure that I was going to be accepted into the Coordinated Program, which meant I'd be a dietitian almost as soon as I left school. I'd get to wear my cool lab coat and I'd work alongside doctors and nurses all day. My job shadowing, my choice of electives, everything, was meant to get me into that program. Then, I didn't. I was way down the list in a long line of very qualified candidates. Oops.

I regrouped after that and set my eyes on an internship. Not quite as much fun (aka, not covered by school loans) and much harder to obtain than a spot in the CP, I eventually settled my sights on an internship that would give me the credentials I'd need, a master's, and the opportunity to create curriculum that would hopefully have an impact on an under served population. Oh, and it was going to be in Charleston, Illinois. That didn't happen.

By the end of my senior year I was burnt out on school, frustrated with my options for further education (and I thought a bachelor's was expensive...), and really just wanted to get moving with my adult life, so I moved to Charleston, South Carolina. I met more wonderful people and made more friends than I deserved, and I found a church where I learned more in three years than I had in all the time before that.

But this morning, I realized that because I missed my time in the CP, I didn't end up staying and working in the Akron area. Instead, I got to move to Charleston and experience a new part of the country and meet new people. When I didn't get that internship, I missed a chance to pay for my master's and live on private loans for three years. Now, my employer will pay for my education while I work at my super fun job which actually asks for us to create programming. And while I'm still missing all my friends in SC, I'm hopeful that in the near future, I'll have another "this" story!

Meow

Since I was five, my family has always had at least one cat. We've had quite a few memorable ones, including Daddy Kitty (who was female), Strawberry (who thought she should be human), Munchkin (who churned out more kittens than I thought possible), and Fluffy (who is now a sweet cat despite the fact that she was an evil, evil thing when we first got her). Up until last week, if you had asked me how I felt about cats, I would have told you that I thought cats were sweet, mostly docile creatures who were nice because they ignored you and left you alone most of the time. Now? Cats are demon spawn. Much like Lucifer, they are charming and cute until they think they can take over the world. Then, all hell breaks loose.

I went to a pet shop in Logan over Veteran’s Day weekend. I had been researching whether or not it would be feasible for me to get a parakeet and decided to see if anyone at the local store could offer some advice. I met a nice employee, we talked about the birds, and I headed towards the door. I would not have even noticed there were kittens had one little paw not stuck out and grabbed my shirt. But one did, and I was drawn in. This little kitten was so friendly, doing its best to try and slip through the bars so it could get closer to me and purring nonstop. I wanted to buy it on the spot, but walked out. Like any mature adult, I consulted three people about whether or not I should buy the cat: my mom, my sister, and my best friend. All three said no. So I spent five days trying to talk myself out of the cat before finally returning to the pet store to buy it.

The first five days were great. Mose is a fluffy, cuddly cat, and he liked to curl up in my lap while I wrote. Each night he slept on the small of my back, purring all the while. He liked to play with the catnip mice I bought him, entertaining himself for the better part of an hour most nights. He was so cute that I was almost willing to accept that I had taken two more steps towards crazy cat lady old spinsterhood by welcoming him into my house. Then, all hell broke loose.

I forgot that kittens don’t retract their claws very well. My legs are covered in little kitten claw marks from every time he has attempted to climb up into the chair by launching himself, claws first, onto my lap only to slip and hang by one claw onto my pants. I have also caught him hanging from clothes in my closet by one claw after he attempted to climb up them.

I forgot that kittens think everything that moves is something to attack. This includes my fingers as they move across the keyboard, my feet as I walk from one end of the apartment to the other, and my toes as I tap them to the beat of the music. One word: ouch.

I forgot that whatever you’re doing is the most interesting thing in the world and must be interrupted immediately. When I read he sits down right in the middle of the book. When I write in my journal he bites the pen and tries to run off with it. As I've been working on my writing projects this month, more than one paragraph has had ======= or ppppppppppppp or 888888888888 typed across the page. The best was they day he hit the backspace key.

I forgot that cats have no regard for your sleeping habits. Each night as I attempt to drift to sleep, he runs up and down the hallway, then jumps around in the boxes that I have yet to unpack before returning to the bedroom to jump in the clothes hamper, onto the dresser, onto the bed, and into the closet before repeating the pattern for the next thirty minutes.

So yes, my cat acts like demon spawn, but I really like my Mose. He's just so fluffy. He’s adorable when he plays with his catnip mouse. He runs to the door each night when I get home from work. He curls up next to me when I’m on the couch and purrs like mad. He looks so cute when he sits just so in the windowsill. Like I said, almost willing to accept that I’m two (maybe three) steps closer to crazy cat lady old spinsterhood. (Pray for me…)

Dream On...

"You have a lot of dreams, you know that?" It was craft time at OSU Extension, as we stood around a Christmas tree, decking it out with pretty lights and sparkly "ting." I looked up at the co-worker who said this with a quizzed look. She picked up on my look and proceeded to list off the three different dreams or "life goals" that I had brought up at one point or another. I laughed and simply responded that "she had no idea." As we finished our project, I expanded on my statement and laid out my various dreams.

1.) I want to be on Jeopardy! Between my extensive buzzer training in Bible Bowl and my knack for remembering some of the most random facts, I think I could be successful. I even have a great piece for the "player profile" they do after the first break.

2.) I want to play the block piece of "Sleigh Ride" with an orchestra. Boston Pops is preferred, but playing with any group that tackles the song would be acceptable.

3.) I want to show a cow. Considering the fact that the Jr. Fair has adult showmanship each year and kids willing to loan me a project animal for half an hour, this dream could be realized next summer.

Those three are just the ones my office knows about. Since I'm not good at narrowing down my goals, here's the rest:

4.) I want to get my pilot's license.

5.) When I get my first house, I'm going to buy a joggling board for my front porch.

6.) I want to be fluent in three languages, one of them French.

7.) I am going to figure out where my Homonai relatives lived before immigrating and then I'm going to visit that town. I'm also going to visit my Canadian great-grandparent's hometown just for kicks. Thankfully for my budget, the Birds and Henrys have been in Ohio so long there's no need to travel.

8.) I want a beach house on Sullivan's Island. (Even though Kacy thinks it's the worst beach in the world)

9.) I want to ride in a hot air balloon, sky dive, and bungee jump.

10.) I want to be a professor. My current job allows for this possibility. Have I mentioned how much I love my job?

11.) I want to make it back to SC within the next six months just so I can sit back and enjoy a Sunday morning with my Young Life friends (I've been trying to find an Ohio version of ya'll, and I'm realizing just how irreplaceable ya'll are!)

12.) I want to have book published- by a real publisher, not this Amazon self-publication nonsense!

13.) I want to live through tonight. I'm normally not bugged by bad weather (I did get to see a funnel cloud once and got to cross that off the list!), but living in a rural area with already sketchy power...I'm not thinking I'll sleep tonight ;)

Have a great evening, everyone, and stay safe, all of my Ohio people.

Apologies

I have a pride issue. I like to think that I operate on a higher plane of existence than I actually do, and I act like it far too often. But as the verse says, "Pride goes before a fall, and a haughty spirit goes before destruction." Over the last two days my pride has taken a fall, and my spirit, while not destroyed, suffered a few bruises. Allow me to offer some apologies to explain what has happened.

1.) I apologize to everyone I have secretly and not so secretly mocked regarding technological abilities...aka my mother and most other individuals over the age of 40. Yesterday I was unable to properly format a Word document even though the formatting was cutting and pasting. I also discovered that me using special features on Outlook is akin to me using an iPad: it just can't be done. Oh, and that was definitely me in the parking garage today looking for a slot to swipe my card when all I really needed to do was scan it.

2.) I apologize to my uncles for ever using you as an example in "bad behavior" stories. I recently discovered through some conversations that even the worst stories you, my mother, or my grandmother have told regarding your behavior as young adults (and, let's face it, as adults now) is child's play compared to what some other people's uncles have done and continue to do. In fact, I'm going to start filling out the sainthood paperwork for you all right now.

3.) I apologize to everyone of my colleagues in Ohio who has been referred to by a wrong name over the last four months. That includes you, Abbey/Amy, Taylor/Liz, Sandy/Lisa, and Jocelyn/Shannon. Although, in my defense, can I really be to blame that you are nearly identical to other people I in my life?

Lots of apologies all around tonight. On that note, I'm not going to apologize for ending this post. TTFN!

GPS

"No. No! NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I was traveling down a busy street, unable to divert my eyes from the road to figure out why, all of the sudden, my GPS decided that I needed to go from the far right lane to the far left lane in less than 30 feet. At the next light I took a second to decide why my machine freaked out on me all of the sudden. After a quick glance at the turn-by-turn directions, it appeared as though the machine gained a brain of its own and decided to override my request to avoid the death trap that is I-71's construction zone.

This is just the latest of the many, many mishaps sponsored by Magellan. Back in June I decided that it would be in my best interest to get a GPS unit. I wasn't sure that I could trust myself to print and remember to carry a Google map with directions through two airports, a hotel, and a rental car. I was scared that I wouldn't be able to find the building where my interview would be held, so I went out and bought an item I swore I'd never own.

Since then, it's been nothing but "fun." Magellan has a habit of not telling me about turns until they're less than two seconds from happening, usually after it told me to go to the furthest point from that turn less than ten seconds prior. That's how I got stuck driving in circles around freeway exits one day for twenty minutes when all I wanted to do was get to my hotel.

For as much as Magellan "forgets" to tell me that I need to turn, it has no problem incessantly yelling at me for no reason on other occasions. "RED LIGHT CAMERA AHEAD! RED LIGHT CAMERA AHEAD!" That's what it was yelling at me today, instead of telling me that I was about to miss a turn. Thankfully, at least one of us was paying attention.

Living in a rural area, there's not much in the way of reception- my radio gets NPR, Southern gospel, and only two local stations during the drive to work. From 1/2 mile outside of Logan until 1/2 mile outside McArthur, there is no cellphone reception, leaving approximately 20 miles of silence. This lack of reception applies to Magellan also- it's worse than useless getting me from point A to point B anywhere south of Logan (which is pretty much most of my travel area.).

So why keep it? That's the question I ask myself every day. As much as I like playing with technology, I still prefer my paper maps. Magellan, I hope you enjoy looking at the inside of the glove box.

Big Happenings in a Small Town

Tuesday, we had all the components of a blockbuster here in Logan. Action, suspense, police, romance- everything. It was JUST like a movie.

I was so close to sleep- that happy state of being super tired but super comfy and knowing that in just a few minutes you'll easily be off to dreamland. Then, in quick succession- sirens, followed by the sound of screeching brakes, two booms, and more sirens. Needless to say, sleep was over for the time being.

The evidence of the action was easily viewed from the front window of my apartment. At the intersection was a semi and the remains of two cars. Car parts were everywhere. A fire truck arrived, followed by two police cars that literally skidded onto the scene.

Suspense was in the air, and people poured in from surrounding homes to stand at the scene and watch the events unfold. At one point, I counted thirty people standing at the curb. They stood with arms folded, occasionally gesturing to the scene of the accident or into the air as if they were making some great intellectual point. A short time after the accident, dogs showed up on scene. Were there drugs involved? No, some of the mini mob were out walking their dogs before they came across the accident, so a Basset Hound and a Schnauzer were included in the mix.

Then, out of nowhere- romance. What? Okay, so it wasn't anything thrilling. Turns out, two of the gawkers were a couple. When the police shooed the growing crowd back away from the scene so the tow trucks could move in, the couple walked hand in hand into Speedway to grab a cup of coffee before returning back to the curb to observe the cleanup.

Long story short, the events of the night were caused by a sheriff's deputy who was on his way to a call (hence the sirens) when a woman coming from the left hit the back end of the cruiser (boom number one), which sent it flying into the semi (boom number two). All that resulted in an hour of entertainment and, thankfully, no injuries. Clearly, it doesn't take much to entertain the locals (and myself) on a Tuesday evening.

Fall Freakout

There's a stretch of road on my drive to work that gives me pause every day. Normally my driving paranoia keeps my eyes plastered on the road, but here I give myself a split second to take in the panorama. What's so special about this particular piece of highway? It's the view. 360° of clear views over rolling fields and forest.

A month ago when I was still making the rounds and meeting everyone for the first time, my little piece of small talk was about how excited I was to see fall for the first time in three years. "How do you like the area?" "It's beautiful. I can't wait to see what fall looks like around here." That was a popular exchange. That was followed by, "How do you like living in the middle of all the trees?" "Oh, it's so pretty. I can't wait for the fall!" Yeah, I talked a big talk.

Labor Day weekend, I was driving with my brother on the way to pick up a friend for a golf outing. My eyes widened in horror as I noticed something out of the ordinary- the leaves weren't green, and a few of them HAD FALLEN TO THE GROUND! Then, when I got back to my apartment I noticed that the tree in my neighbor's yard had a touch of the yellow disease as well.

The trees weren't the only thing that seemed to be withering before my eyes. The beautiful, purple-mauve Joe Pye weeds that were growing along the side of the road were fading to brown and being replaced by goldenrod. In fact, all of the meadows were losing all colors but goldenrod. The few fields of corn that exist in Vinton County were changing colors the same way that my aunt and uncle's fields were- the tops were still vibrant, but they were scary shades of brown on the bottom.

I had my fall freak out that day. All of the sudden I no longer wanted to see the leaves change. I no longer wanted summer to end because that meant that winter was not far off, and I'm still not sure how I'm going to handle that season change. I have a little book of "Pearls Before Swine" that features the crocodiles. In one strip, the rat has convinced the crocs that tomato seeds are actually zebra seeds and if they pick the tomatoes before they're ready, the crocs would be killing the zebras. The last strip shows one of the crocs giving mouth-to-mouth to a tomato shouting, "STAY AWAY FROM THE LIGHT!" I felt like that croc. I didn't want the trees to die, I wanted to run around and stick the leaves back on the tree. I wanted to water the flowers and make them pretty purple colors again. I was out of control.

Thankfully, my fall freak out only lasted a few days and now I'm back to enjoying everything I like about fall. The days are just warm enough to enjoy sans jacket, the skies are clear blue almost every day, and the trees are turning the gorgeous shades of red, orange, and yellow that I missed for three years. And that panoramic view? I can't wait until it's peak color season. Fall freak out over, I can now turn my attention to the next problem: cold weather. Ladies and gents, I was spoiled by South Carolina, and I'm going to miss my 70° Decembers.

My Family

Family reunions seem to be a love/hate situation for a lot of people.  Me? I love them. The people who go to the Bird/Forbes Reunion know how to cook, and the snarky hecklers in attendance always make the business meeting exciting. The Brown Reunion usually contains some form of wild entertainment, whether my Uncle Jeff convinces his sheriff buddy to show up and “question” my Aunt Kooks about her “meth lab,” my Aunt Mindy chases my mom around the park and threatens her for having given bad information that led to a hilarious yet incorrect assumption, or my Uncle Bill throws bean bags at my best friend’s head. (And those are just the things I can talk about in public.) The Henry Reunion, however, is a completely different atmosphere, and for that reason I adore it. This year was the first time I had been to the reunion in three or four years, and I am so glad I went, because by the end I thought, “This is what I want for the rest of my life.”

I want my family’s kindness. I could forget any of the negativity that has been thrown my way in recent days, weeks, and months- there was none of it here. No gossip, no sidebar conversations talking about what so-and-so did and to whom, no unnecessarily sharp words. I’ve been around these individuals long enough to know that like everyone else on the planet, they have their trials and struggles, so I know it wasn’t fake kindness trying to cover anything. No, there was genuine care and concern for ailing family members, pure joy over impending nuptials, shared happiness over important accomplishments, and thankfulness for good reports of improved health. This is the kindness that is born from an inner peace and joy, and rarely have I seen it displayed so well.

I want my family’s ambition. My great-great Aunt Stella was one of the first people in her county to own an automobile, and certainly the first woman. She did this on the salary she earned from teaching at the schoolhouse. After a few years of teaching, she went to college (Majored in Home Ec., minored in Spanish because she was interested in missions work), got married, and had a family. I feel like these are huge accomplishments for a woman in her day, but in a booklet written about her life it was mentioned that she felt like she wasn't doing anything of eternal worth- she wanted to do more. My grandpa’s cousin Bob went to school to be a veterinarian, finished, and practiced for eight years. Now, developing an allergy to cats and horses along the way probably wasn't in the plan, but it didn't matter in the end. The man got his doctorate in philosophy so he could teach at the college level.  Oh, and he still works extensively in the plasticization of animals (think those “Body” exhibits that were popular awhile back) for learning purposes, something that has literally taken him all across the world. My cousin Annie teaches English. Let me add to that- my cousin Annie teaches English to university students in China, something she’s done for years. This barely scratches the surface of the incredible things the people in my family have done.

I want my family’s faith. This is what stands out to me the most every time I visit with the Henrys. They praise God for the happy times in their lives, they rely on Him during sicknesses and death. They make a habit of encouraging the younger members to follow God in all things.  I’ll never forget going to a funeral for a family member and hearing that there would be a time of worship.  The bulletin read, “Join us in worshiping God for the life of…” Yes, there were tears, but there was so much hope and joy in that time of mourning that it really didn't seem like a time of mourning. This faith isn't just limited to the many members of the family who serve as pastors and missionaries and it isn't weak. It’s clear and evident in the lives of so many Henrys, all because each generation has taken the time to show their faith and make sure their children were introduced to God so that they could claim that faith as their own when the time came.

I want to keep writing about this family, but I’m short on the words that would adequately express the respect and admiration I have for my relatives and my pride for being part of this family; and I don’t have time to write about the humor, the hobbies, and all the other little details that make this family so special. With that said, it’s now time to get ready for family to visit my apartment this weekend. A month in the new place and I’m still only half-unpacked!

Ruler of all I Survey

There are a few reasons that I like my upstairs apartment. I like that I have a large bedroom, a living room, AND room for an office; I actually enjoy the fact that I have to run up and down stairs whenever I come or go, but most of all I enjoy the fact that I have a bird's eye view of everything.

Now, don't get the impression that I'm looking over anything particularly grand. In fact, to my south is a Speedway station. Out of my office window, I see the red glare of the sign every night around eight o'clock. That's not particularly appealing, but when I get writer's block it provides a level of people watching that is unmatched. Logan sits at the edge of two state parks, so there is a lot of out-of-town travel in the area. Simply by watching the way the customers walk in and out of the store I can tell who is local and who is a tourist. Most of the time I can tell the difference by waiting to see if they stop in the middle of the parking lot to talk to a friend they saw walking out of the store. It happens more than you'd think.

To my east is another set of upstairs apartments. In my apartment, there seems to be little to no rhyme or reason when it comes to which windows have blinds and curtains, and which ones have only a valance. When it comes to the living room, every window has either blinds or curtains except the window that faces due east. You know, the window that lets the strongest sunbeam in every morning; and the window that lets my neighbor who lives across the street a clear view into my apartment. I put my tall plant in that window.

Out my bathroom window, I can see the top of downtown Logan. Surprisingly, there are a lot of three and four story tall buildings for such a small town. I'm guessing most of them were built in Logan's heyday. The courthouse is one such building, and it has a flag post situated on it's top. I like being able to see this flag, because I can always tell which way the wind's blowing. It's a little thing, but it's nice to know which windows I should shut before it rains!

I think I mentioned that Logan sits at the edge of two state parks. This, in addition to the fact that Southeastern Ohio is heavily forested anyways, means that beyond all the "stuff" in the way, I get to look out at a gorgeous landscape each and every day. Every night since I moved in, I've been able to watch the last fading sunbeams set the western sky and the rooftops of all the houses in between aglow in a rich, gold light.

The apartment's not perfect, and I always imagined myself in a more rural setting rather than just above a busy city street, but I can tell that spending this chapter of my life in this apartment will be quite an enjoyable experience.

The Holes in the Story

"Well, the cover story has a few holes in it, but I think it's still passable at this point."  This was a line from an e-mail I sent to a co-worker regarding the surprise party we were hours away from throwing for our boss.  Earlier in the day, we decided that a cover story was needed to explain away the mounds of food that were being carried into the clinic via nurses, admin, and nutritionists.  We usually bring homemade lunches to work, but those come in cute, flowery bags and not Pyrex and Tupperware.  We usually bring sandwiches and side dishes, but those sandwiches do not require a pound of shaved roast beef or sliced cheese, nor does it require a large helping of potato salad.

The story started off innocent enough.  After all, it had to be simple and repeatable and one that made sense, even when it didn't.  (I may have been a little enthusiastic about the idea of creating a cover story.)  After a short discussion, the story emerged:  Since a few of the nurses in Family Planning had birthdays in May, we as a clinic decided it would be nice to have a small party at our staff meeting day.  Simple, right?  It made sense too, because we try to have parties once a quarter or so and they always happen on staff meeting day, which is a half day of work.

It only took about twenty minutes for the first hole to appear.  Our boss walked in about the same time one of our nurses walked in with all the ingredients for her favorite cream cheese spread.  I shook my head, because of all the people Kristi could have run into, she ran into the one person who wasn't known for keeping quiet.  To her credit, she tried to explain away her food.  However, she explained the ingredients (cream cheese, crackers, and jalapeno jelly) by saying "I'm hungry because I didn't have breakfast." 

At this point, we decided that the ruse was worth keeping up, because if there's only one crazy person, you can explain them away.  This is when the second hole was discovered.  Remember those nurses whose birthdays we were celebrating?  We don't normally make the birthday people bring food, but as we attempted to explain why we were having the party the door to the refrigerator was opened in front of my boss. Lo and behold, there sat a 13x9 pan of roasted chicken with the supposed birthday girl's name written on the sticky note affixed to the lid.  

The third and final hole in the story came about the time one of our regional staff appeared.  Tracy doesn't just "show up" at a clinic unannounced, she always has a specific purpose.  Believe it or not, showing up for random birthday parties during a staff meeting is not a specific purpose for her!  Thankfully, Tracy called before she came to tell us when she would be arriving, and knowing this we had people posted at the front door who could whisk her to the site of the party.  This would have worked out really well if Kristi had just stayed in her office.  If.  It was at the very moment Tracy walked in the front door with a dish of homemade potato salad and a large planter of flowers that Kristi decided to walk to the front of the clinic.  Oops.  One of my more alert co-workers saw this and motioned for Tracy to hide, which she did.  When we finally got Kristi out of the way, I went into the lobby to find that Tracy had hidden in the family bathroom in the lobby. It's quite a sight to see a respected supervisor peering out through a tiny crack between the door and its frame, wondering if the coast was clear.  

When it was all said and done, the cover story was almost unnecessary.  You see, we were having so much fun setting up for the party that we forgot to keep quiet as we set out the food and decorations.  This is a big problem, especially when the party room is right next to the boss' office.  Silly workers...  

Do you like your job?/Don't make rash decisions

Every so often people ask me: "Do you like your job?"  If a client is asking me that, it doesn't matter if I'm having the worst day of my career,  I always say yes and I always think of at least two things that make my day bright, lest I give them the idea that I'm yet another in the long line of grumpy government workers.  If it's a new acquaintance, I try to give more highlights than anything, but I occasionally throw in a cringe-worthy story or two for the sake of levity.  If you're a close friend or family member, I will tell you every terror tale I have, mainly because I can.  Today I asked myself "Do you like your job?"  The answer to that question gave me the topic for today's post.

Without crossing the line into HIPAA-violation territory, let me just say that I had a very interesting group of children today.  In the twenty minutes they were with me there was almost non-stop kicking, hitting, and spitting; and no small amount of wailing and screaming.  Oh, and that was just the kids.  The parent was responsible for yelling, threatening, and exasperating.  I went into that encounter with my clients as a happy and smiling person.  I came out vowing that I would never have children and even went so far as to text my mom and tell her that the hope for grandchildren was growing evermore dim.

After my half hour recovery period, I had a slightly more positive outlook on life- one that included a slightly higher probability of me having children someday.  I was even chuckling to myself, thinking "This is why we don't make big decisions after one bad experience!" Imagine all the things we'd miss out on if we gave up after a traumatic experience.  I would not be able to ride bikes had I sworn off riding after I lost control of my cousin's bike and knocked out two teeth as I fell.  I would not be able to drive a car had I sworn off driving shortly after I got my permit and almost hit a car in the oncoming lane by over-correcting the steering wheel when I turned left at a stop sign.  (There are very few times I remember my Dad shouting at me.  That was one of them!)  

My thoughts on the negative aspects of rash decision-making led me to my thoughts on whether or not I like my job.  Not only has this topic been on my mind today, it's been something I've pondered frequently these last few weeks and have had difficulty answering at times.  But as I cleaned my office and got everything packed away for the day, I continued lightheartedly repeating the following mantra: "Today was not the norm, today was not the norm.  You cannot make decisions based off of today alone!" So for the present, I like my job.  It's frustrating at times and infuriating at others, but by and large it's a funny place that gives me great fodder for my future book about humans and their distinctive personalities.  And that decision has been two-and-a-half years in the making!

Well, speaking about work, I have a long list of projects that need finished before I head back in the a.m.  Sadly, we're having a goodbye party for a beloved colleague and I have to finish prepping a few items for that.  Tomorrow I may not like my job...haha.

Paranoia

In under a second, I had the stereo off, windows down, and head halfway out the window.  WHAT NOW?!?! I thought, as I felt my car jar and shake down the road.  It felt something akin to hitting a rumble strip, but it felt like my tires were shaking to the sides.  Are the tires coming off?  Did something break?  I was prepared to turn on my hazard lights and coast on into the gas station.  Then, as quickly as the rumbling started, it was over.  Long story short, I was just going over a patch of well-traveled asphalt that had a number of bumps and divots in it.  Had I been paying closer attention to the road, I might have noticed that before the panic set in.  As it was, my paranoia about cars had just taken root and was keeping me from using any sense.

There are a million things that I DON'T get paranoid about.  I found out the other day that the hand soap I have been buying for the last three years is not anti-bacterial, nor is the Dawn dish soap that I use on almost every surface of my house.  There are times that I forget to wash my hands before I eat.  I have a ground-level apartment, yet I keep my bedroom window open at night when the weather permits.  My chicken and beef are not organic or grass-fed, and I've never checked to see if they claim to be hormone free.  I do know that the milk I buy on sale at Wal-Greens every third week or so says, "There have been no studies to suggest that milk from cows given hormones have any measurable effect on humans."  Don't get me wrong, I've watched Food, Inc. and have watched enough Castle to know about all the serial killers on the loose, but for right now, these things don't bother me.  

Cars however, are another story.  Every morning I have a routine: After I start the car, it has to run until the engine shifts or the RPMs decrease (I have no idea what's happening, I just know I wait for that!) I roll the windows down and listen carefully for anything that might suggest a belt is failing or the cam shaft synchronizer is breaking down again.  Heaven help me on the days that it's wet or exceptionally humid outside, because that's when the belt is more likely to squeal and give me a heart attack.  

As I'm driving, I am very careful to listen to any disturbances in the force.  Any time there is the slightest noise, the radio and air/heat are turned off so I can listen for the problem.  Normally, the "problem" is me hearing something in the background of the song.  There are two or three songs that I can no longer listen to because I always "hear" a problem.  Again, paranoia.  At intersections, I will occasionally hear a strange chirping or whirring.  Radio turned down, air/heat off, I roll down the window and try to determine if it's my car or coming from another vehicle.  So far, it's always been the other vehicle.  Now, after a few situations like the one at the beginning of the story, there are a few roads that drive me crazy just because of how the car handles on them.  The intersection of Trolley and 165?  Nope.  The parking lot of Bi-Lo?  Forget it.  The stretch of Gahagan right before the church, and then the limestone parking lot of the church?  Nightmare.  

At the end of the day, it's just another quirk that I have to get out of my system.  When I had Reggie (who had more serious problems like shutting down when I used the turn signal or even just as I drove down the road) I drove everywhere, drove in every climate, day or night.  That car was older than Ditto is now, had the "check engine" light on for almost a year, and had it's bumper fastened to the rest of the car with two bungee cords and some zip ties (my dad is an ingenious man), yet I had no problem driving other people through remote stretches of Amish country in it.  So clearly, it's time to put post-road trip paranoia behind me and enjoy riding around in my car.  I'm sure that sentiment will last until tomorrow.  Ha.  

Well, it is time to call it a night for a few reasons.  1.) The dog got in the trash, and I must go pick it up before he carries it everywhere.  2.) There is thing thing called work...  3.) The laundry was probably done half an hour ago and needs to be picked up before they lock the room. Oops.  Have a good night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my mom.  Wish I was there to celebrate!

Why I will be purchasing appliances soon.

Laundry day is always "fun" for me.  At best, it's a short walk across the apartment grounds with a bulky, heavy basket in hand.  At worst, it has been a mess of broken washers, lost money, and stolen laundry baskets.  Today was probably an "in-the-middle" day. 

The first mistake I made was to leave without enough quarters.  Any time you leave the house without enough quarters for the washer, you know you're in for trouble.  I wasn't too worried though, I would just stop by the coin machine at the car wash when I stopped to put air in my tires.  

Nope.  Plan fail.  Coin machine non-operable today.  Shoot.  As I walked back to the car, I thought about my options.  "I could go to the laundromat up the street."  I almost turned the car toward the main road, but then realized two things: That laundromat is almost twice as expensive as the one at the apartment, and I had bread baking in the crock pot.  (Yes, you read that last part correctly.)

So now on to plan B.  I could just make do with the quarters I had.  A quick check to the coin purse revealed enough quarters to wash one load of clothes.  Now I had another dilemma: What should I wash?  I stared at the two baskets in front of me.  Should I was this load so that I could drift off to sleep on fresh, soft sheets?  What about my favorite pair of jeans?  Or that new shirt that I adore so much?  Oh yeah, my stupid work slacks.  I might need clean clothes for work. 

Sigh...what was I going to wash?  "Wait! Even if I wash the clothes, I will need to dry them!  I can't wash the clothes and then not dry them!!"  Sure, I could hang them to dry on the shower curtain or even the DRYING RACK that I bought like I had many times before, but tonight I just wanted the clothes dried now.  It was inconceivable that I wait until the next day to wash and dry the clothes, after I would have been able to stop and get a roll or two of quarters from the bank.  No, I had to find a solution now. 

Vending machine!! I remembered that someone had once told me to feed dollar bills to the vending machines and get quarters back.  Since there is a vending machine in the laundry room, I felt like I had hit the jackpot.  About thirty seconds later, it sounded like I had hit the jackpot too.  I had fed my dollar bill to the machine and kept hearing coin after coin drop into the return.  Was I the recipient of a damaged yet generous machine?  No, I was getting dimes back.  Grr... Now, not only did I still have no quarters, but I lost a dollar bill that could have been turned into quarters.  

Again I was faced with the dilemma of what to wash and the knowledge that I would be turning my bathroom into a makeshift laundry room.  I was discouraged.  Then, suddenly, an idea came to my mind: This vending machine might be spitting out useless dimes, but there were TWO MORE vending machines in the complex.  Out the door of the laundry room and over to the pool area I went.  Yes!  Thank goodness!  Four dollar bills and a walk back to the laundry room later, I had enough quarters to wash AND dry my clothes tonight.

And that, my friends, is why I will be purchasing appliances soon.  Even on the good days when I am smart enough to accumulate the required number of tokens before attempting to start laundry day, it's still an obnoxious process that I'm losing money on in the long run.  So tonight I will spend some time setting up a mini savings account for myself, with the ultimate goal being a new-to-me washer/dryer set.  

Well, once again it is time to close.  That crock-pot bread?  Not the lightest or fluffiest bread I've ever made, and certainly not as good as my Grandma's bread, but overall it's pretty darn good if I do say so myself.   And with that said, it's time to go eat another slice with dinner!

Have a great week everyone!

If I Were A Rich Man...

Last night, due to a combination of disrupted sleep pattern induced insomnia and a screaming ear ache courtesy of my latest illness, I found myself wide awake and staring at the ceiling at 3:30 a.m.  Anytime I find myself in this situation, I don't waste time trying to lull myself back to sleep.  No, I pull out the big guns: my MP3 player and its library.  Such was the case last night.  After a few songs I was on the verge of sleep when the next song started playing: "If I Were a Rich Man" from Fiddler on the Roof.

 Again, wide awake at 3:30 in the morning, I started thinking as the song progressed.  If I were a rich woman, I wouldn't have to work hard.  I wouldn't have to be stuck in an office from 8:30-5:00 each day, keeping up with an endless parade of people, prescriptions, and phone calls.  I figured I'd work part-time- just enough to have "something to do" a few times a week, but leaving me plenty of time to pursue other hobbies.  

If I were a rich woman, I too would build a big house.  I wouldn't be as focused on the staircases as Tevye was, but you can be sure I'd have a wrap-around porch.  Rather than a city house, I'd want a big spread in the country; and I too would have chicks and turkeys and geese and ducks, all squawking just as noisily as they could.  I have a long list of plants that would fill my gardens in the summer and cupboards in the winter.   

Tevye might have wanted the important men to come to him with their problems, but I figured that in my wealth I would have people coming to me for my writing expertise, seeing as how I would have used all that time I lack to sit on my patio and write and build my freelance career.   Rather than a praying in a seat by the eastern wall, I'd be greeting the sunrise from the eastern side of the house as I enjoyed breakfast on that nice porch I'd built.

"LORD who made the lion and the lamb.  You decreed I should be what I am.  Would it spoil some vast eternal plan, if I were a wealthy man?"  As the song ended, so did my little dream world.  I'm sure on many, many levels my life would be nothing like it is if I were in a different position in life.  Just from reading the above paragraphs, if I were a rich woman I'd be more lazy and selfish than I already am!  In light of that, I'd rather keep the people and things that I have now, which have provided me with an extremely blessed life, than risk that happiness and joy for something as fleeting as wealth.  Deep thoughts for a Sunday night, I know. 

So as another weekend comes to a close and I'm forced to deal with the fact that work is less than twelve hours away,  I'll just have to keep dreaming that I'm wealthy enough to not have to think about going to work.  Ha.