Poor Life Decisions

"I hate summer, winter, fall, and spring. Red and yellow, purple, blue, and green. I hate everything."
This is the song I was singing on my way back from facilitating a class the other day. I didn't accidentally stumble across it on the radio, I deliberately asked the Googles to pull up the song and play it for me. I finished my sing-along as I walked into the office. My co-worker heard me, and didn't disagree with my choice of song.

Now, at that particular moment, I was actually having a pretty great day. My class had gone much better than anticipated, and it had generated a few leads for future work. There were no immediately pressing matters that needed my attention, so I wasn't heading back to any stressful situations. In fact, at that moment, I was happy!

I was just very tired.
And hungry.
And actively repressing reminders that bills needed to be paid and weeds needed to be pulled.
And pretending that I didn't need to schedule about twenty work-related things for September and October.
I was happy- I was just suffering the effects of poor life decisions...for the fourth day in a row. I was a runaway train about to turn into a full-fledged dumpster fire.

The poor life decision to stay up until 1:15 a.m. the night before, for no reason other than "just because."
The poor life decision to not eat the healthy food I purchased at the store, but rush out of the house in the a.m. so fast that breakfast was high-octane coffee and lunch was some of McArthur's best eats (Which was delicious, but my body was crying out for something vegetable and green more so than extra cheesy and pizza).
The poor life decision to not drink the water I brought from home, but imbibe on "hyper juice." (My co-workers still allow me to drink Mt. Dew when I'm tired, unlike my mother.)
The poor life decision to not keep my day planner with me at all times, so that I could easily record the aforementioned work-related things and schedule my bill payments.

Shortly before 4:00 p.m, my co-worker appeared in my office door and made sure I was shutting things down and getting ready to leave for the day:
"Do you still hate everything?"
"I never really hated everything. I have been in a good mood, I just feel like crap from making poor life decisions all week!"
"Well, I'm heading out. I'll see ya tomorrow. Go home and make good life decisions!"

I did not do that thing.

Typical Tuesday

I spent Monday night writing in my Passion Planner, using washi tape to make cute little charts and graphs, and utilizing at least eight of my ten highlighters. I love being organized. I like the feeling of control, the sense of accomplishment, and the presence of peace that it brings. But that was Monday.

Today is Tuesday.
Today I woke up at 8:00 a.m., which was a problem because I had wanted to leave for work at 7:00 a.m.
Today it was raining and the dog didn't want to go outside. (which meant he had already gone potty inside the house)
Today I chose my pants and my cardigan by determining which had been worn least since the last laundry day.
Today I chose my breakfast not on nutritional content, but by portability potential. So I had string cheese, a juice box, and fruit gummies.
Today I stepped out into the garage and realized that I had left my garage door open ALL NIGHT LONG.

For the first five minutes of my drive to work, I gave myself the usual lecture about how there's no excuse to be such an irresponsible adult at the age of 29. I, as usual, agreed with the points I was making and agreed with myself that I would make necessary adjustments to my behavior and daily schedule. (I am very persuasive when talking to myself.)

Forty minutes later I made it to work. I didn't notice my new co-worker's car in the parking lot, so I totally missed the fact that I wasn't the first person in the office. I tried to open the already open door with my key, and was then slightly embarrassed to open the door and see my co-worker staring at me from the copier.

Her: "How's it going today?"
Me: "Oh, you know. Just a typical Tuesday."

Summer Recap

What.a.ride.

At the beginning of May, I said that this summer was going to be like a crazy roller coaster ride: lots of ups and down, thrilling and scary at the same time, and over way too quickly. It happened just like that.

May: 

-a business trip to Marietta, which is one of the cooler towns I've ever visited in Ohio. When history and entrepreneurship meet, good things happen. 

-Mom and I went on a random trip to Kokomo, IN with a pit stop to a cemetery in Cicero, IN.

-I taught Real Money Real World at the middle school, and the kids surprised me by their maturity, understanding, and math skills. It was a great week!

June:

-Presque Isle. One of my favorite places to visit, and we got to visit a few new landmarks in the area. Poor Aaron was pretty much a zombie because he had just finished a twelve hour shift when we left, but he was a good sport and hung out with us anyways.

-I hiked up Mt. Pleasant with Katie & Grant, then we ate at Cherry Street Pub, which is my favorite :)

-Cooper got ticks. I nearly barfed. 

July:

-SAN DIEGO!!!! This was easily the highlight of my summer. I have never had so much fun just walking around a city (and I know that I haven't even covered a quarter of the city) and being a tourist. And to think that I tried to back out of the trip several times...

-The Lancaster Festival. It was so fun to walk around the downtown area with friends and see everyone's creativity and artwork.

-Sinkholes. Bleh.

August: 

- That month is a blur. Other than the cat getting sick and turning my house into a biohazard, all I know is that I worked. A lot. And I don't really remember the month.

-Wait, I remember the parentals coming down for home repairs. My dining room/den looks pretty pretty and there are no holes in my driveway.

September: 

- Also a blur. Lots of traveling across the south central region of the state for data collection purposes. I love the farm country and all the little towns along the way. 

-I learned how to use a chainsaw over Labor Day weekend. I don't like using a chainsaw, but at least I learned that skill!

-Dad's birthday- The Homonai's dined in public without any kind of spectacle. Aka, the kids acted like the grownups they kind of are.

There were lots of other little things that made the summer enjoyable as well- breakfast with friends, fireflies, thunderstorms, walking and walking and walking, theater productions, and bubbles. 

Oh, I learned a lot too. I wasn't in or around church or my small group very often, but when I was, I learned! Being selfless vs. selfish, being reminded that I am NOT the most important person in the room (or anywhere else), waiting, patience, compassion, etc. I can't even talk about it being 'painful,' because it's actually been fun to learn these lessons and address some of my many faults. 

So now the train has reached the station and I am focusing on fall. I had another adventure list I wanted to start, this time focusing on things that would be difficult or uncomfortable for me. I may still chip away at that list, but I actually just want to rest and start to (finally) settle in to Lancaster. I didn't realize it, but pretty much since I left Medina in 2010 I've never really tried to fit in and get to know my new home. Summerville was kind of a tourist destination to me, Logan was just a stop along the way, and Lancaster to this point has been a place of convenience- closer to home, near friends, and just the right distance from work. So this season, I am excited to work towards making Lancaster my long-term home. 

TL;DR- Kate had a great summer and wishes to thank everyone who played a part in that, which is pretty much everyone she works with, goes to church with, and is part of her family.

Summer 2016: Hoosier Highlights

First of all, this post has been censored for language.

Second, allow me to share some highlights of our Indiana Adventure.

About a week and a half ago, I was singing my favorite Beach Boys song, "Kokomo." I was a little bored that night, and as we all know, bored Kate tends to make crazy plans. Twenty minutes later I found out that Kokomo was a reasonable four hour drive from home, and after another five minutes I found that my great-grandmother's birthplace of Cicero was a quick side trip off the route home. Later that week I mentioned my plans to Sheryl, who asked to join my adventure weekend. We were all set.

Many pictures were taken, nearly 500 miles were traveled, and much hilarity ensued. We recorded our favorite quotes of the trip for your enjoyment:

• We had wanted to buy a GoPro for the trip, but never got around to purchasing one. After I directed a few of my favorite driving phrases at a fellow motorist, Sheryl stated, "If I had gotten the GoPro, our recording would have been video only..."
• Upon seeing a motorcyclist riding erratically (and not wearing safety gear), we pretended he had some caveman-esque instructions for life after his inevitable accident : "Me type O. Sell heart. Not eyes."
• At lunch, we were in line behind a lady who was being more than a little rude to the woman taking her order. Someone started making quiet comments about not being rude and using nice words, in between wondering if the sharp points of her haircut were visual representations of her personality. Someone else (me) reminded the first someone to "Use your Indiana manners, not your Ohio manners."
• I may or may not have made a few (illegal) judgment calls about whether or not I could make it through some yellow lights. I said I was just implementing what I call the "Carolina Slide," but Sheryl decided that here, people making that move were known as "Indiana Idiots."
• We decided that the people of Indiana are so polite that they don't need stop lights, just stop signs (Seriously...every other intersection had stop signs.) No less than three times I pulled up to an intersection and waited for the light to turn green...even though there were no lights...anywhere. But again, everyone in Indiana must be so polite that they don't honk at out-of-town idiots. 
• We stopped in Cicero and visited the cemetery where my great-great-grandparents are buried. We found their headstone, and then tried to find the headstone of one of their daughters. We even called Dad for help. When he finally got back to us, he started by saying, "You're going to have a little trouble finding her..." She hadn't been buried at that cemetery.
• I was getting a little punchy on the way home. At one point, Sheryl pretended to be writing down my "quotes" and said, "I eliminated the last 'f*** you.'"
• We passed a truck that was advertising jobs at their company. You could learn more about the company by calling "1-800-FON-DART." Five miles of me laughing about whatever fon darts could be.
• Further down the road, I noticed a truck that looked like it was carrying livestock. I mockingly said, "We should rescue whatever animals are on that truck." We passed the truck one minute later and I realized that what I thought were panels that were allowing air to circulate was actually just a design on the back of the truck...
• Someone saw moving objects and said, "Look, airport!" Someone else said, "Uh, no, that's Go-Karts" Then the first someone said, "You're right. That'd be one b**** of a landing..."

In other news, Sheryl chose not to attend church with me, lest our out-of-control conversations continue ;)

That's 'w', 'h', Thirteen 'e's and a Few Exclamation Points

Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

It began the first week of April. I had just started work on a new project in Vinton County, and I was writing down travel dates, training dates, and eyeing a few dates for some data collection. Four weeks  of my summer were now planned.

I figured that while I was in front of the calendar, I should probably just write out everything else that I had been meaning to write down, but hadn't yet taken the time to do so.

"Gardening season is in full swing, so it's probably time to schedule some food preservation classes. Let's fit that in around the food security summit and policy council meetings. Oh yeah, and the food safety training that requires a three day out-of-town stay."

"Fair week is in late July...I've got those project enrichment days scheduled...project judging is the week before my birthday...I need to schedule time off for my birthday..."

School is only in session for another month, but in that month there's a week of teaching financial management to middle school students, a few days of child care and child development, some decision-making, and building water-powered bottle rockets with the after school kids. On the calendar page for August, I wrote a note to schedule classes with a handful of teachers.

"Kate- are you still going to offer cooking classes to our group?" "Yes, but only if I can switch my usual days with you all. Let's schedule these three days." Since I usually schedule those classes around Chamber meetings, I put my Chamber commitments on paper as well, then Social Service Council, then Drug Task Force, then Food Bank Advisory, then Children's Health Consortium...

Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

May through September isn't quite fully booked yet, but it's getting pretty close. As much as I love my job, I don't want to look back on my summer and think that I spent it all in an office. So for fun that night, I went home and used my favorite markers to make some word art that outlined what I want to do on the weekends and the few evening hours I'll have.

Baseball games, visiting Presque Isle again, a trip to Michigan, driving out to random summer festivals, letterboxing, hiking all the parks in Medina, walking 150 miles.

Blowing bubbles, getting ice cream from Bid's, drawing, reading, spending time outside every day, writing, catching fireflies.

I also left space for unknown things that might find their way into my life.

I've likened my summer to the Demon Drop that used to be at Cedar Point: the last month has been the ride up the height of the tower, preparing for everything on my upcoming schedule as much as I could. Last week I reached the top of the tower and was sent out to hang precariously over the edge, just waiting. Today, the bottom drops out; and while the ride will ultimately seem too short, it will be exciting, exhilarating, delightful, and just plain fun.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

Enjoying My Seat on the Struggle Bus

I've been thinking a lot about my sister today - specifically, all the little catchphrases she likes to use. I used her mantra, "Life is SO hard," as I complained about trivialities in life. I called someone Ponita. But of all her catchphrases, the one nearest and dearest to my heart today was "struggle bus." I know that she didn't coin the phrase, but she was the first to bring it to my attention. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, I'll save you the trip to Urban Dictionary and just tell you that struggle bus is what you say when you can't handle even the simplest of tasks. I, dear readers, have been driving the struggle bus this last week.

It all started last Sunday when I was proud of myself for finding a restaurant without getting lost. I mean, I did have to ask how to find the Cherry Street Pub ("Uh, it's on Cherry Street."), but I was just happy that I made it to Cherry Street without first having driven to Bremen. I was also proud of myself for finding a parking space right out front of the building. I was less proud when I realized that I had driven the wrong way down a one-way street to find said parking space.

Friday, I found myself trying to load my car with supplies that I would need for Monday's classes. I was planning ahead! I would be able to transition into Monday with ease, which would be appreciated after a week that had been made difficult by illness. All I had to do was fit a rolling file cart and a small tote in my car's trunk and make them fit around the medium-sized tote that was already present. Simple enough, right? Nope. Five minutes of sweaty struggle ensued, complete with me muttering my favorite "French" phrases under my breath and hoping that the paramedics in the next building over couldn't hear me. I eventually discovered that a round Tupperware container had lodged itself in the very back of the trunk and was preventing me from fully utilizing the space. I moved the Tupperware into it's original spot and had everything packed in thirty seconds.

Then there was today...

We have an advisory committee meeting once per quarter. Prior to these meetings, we send out packets of information that inform our advisory board about the work we've done over the last three months. I had six sheets of information to print, and each sheet needed its own letterhead or unique color of paper. It's really a simple task. To write out the entire story would bump this post well over the acceptable length, and would include a lot of details that would make it just that much easier to have me committed, so we won't go down that path today. Instead, I'll just share that it took me three attempts to figure out how to properly load the letterhead into the printer, I printed three different documents on white paper (then had to reprint them on different color paper), and the info I put on the yellow paper required three rounds of emails with my boss and a software installation. Oh, and even the yellow paper had to be printed twice because I accidentally sent them to the printer as double-sided copies, even though I needed them single-sided.

To quote my favorite movie, "Morons, your bus is leaving..." I was the driver.

These are just three of the dozen or so instances I can recall from the past seven days. I'm hopeful that with no small amount of concentration, the remainder of my week won't be so trying. Life is so hard.

Beyond the Door

Beyond the door is opportunity, industry, and economy.
Beyond the door is sustenance and entertainment.
Beyond the door are challenges.

Within the door there is austerity.
Within the door there are limitations.
Within the door there is comfort.

Life beyond the door sounds enticing. Life beyond the door offers the promise of things to do, places to go, and people to see. But life beyond the door will create stress and sweat.

Life within the door promises nothing. Life within the door imposes limits. But life within the door provides air conditioning.

That's right- air conditioning.

This has not been a statement about expanding horizons, taking the road less traveled, or pursuing passion in spite of difficulties. This has been about air conditioning.

Window air conditioner units are all that stand between me and this sweltering weather. Therefore, while there's a list of things I'd like to do around the house, there's not a chance I'm leaving my haven of cool air, no matter how limiting it may be.

My only escape seems to be the office. What a life.

Dear June, why so hot? Why so humid?

A Tired State of Mind

I've been tired all week. It's a compilation of bad habits and long days. The fun way to handle this situation is to get hyped up on caffeine, but sadly, the nearest Starbucks is 20 miles away. The second best way to handle this is to sleep, but that doesn't seem to be in the cards. So what we're left with is an overly tired Kate.

Overly tired Kate sometimes gets overly talkative. Overly tired Kate sometimes gets overly emotional. Overly tired Kate sometimes gets overly angry. Perhaps the most dangerous, Tired Angry Kate is funny after the fact. I have spent two days this week as Tired Angry Kate, and wish to share a glimpse of those days with you. I have also decided to include some multimedia components, because they just add something to this post.

Stage 1.) I'm physically present, but mentally I'm probably off in another world, thinking about something far more pleasant. Sunshine, beaches, and writing frequently occur in these other worlds. (Don't watch this entire clip. It's four minutes too long for a blog post.)

Stage 2.) If you interrupt my stay in happy dream world, in any way shape or form, I don't like you any more.

3.) I'm starting to get passive aggressive by stage three. I resort to the lowliest of lows- telling you how I really feel without really telling you how I feel.

Stage 4.) Passive aggressiveness is gone. I resort to name calling and put downs. But I'm still tired and not at full mental capacity, so my insults are often silly and juvenile.

Stage 5.) WARNING #1: Crude gestures and some language in this clip.
     WARNING #2: If you progress past stage four, you're venturing into dangerous territory. At this point I am angry and have no filter and am willing to make direct, mean statements to get my point across. (I will probably then start crying, because I hate being angry to the point of being mean.)

Stage 6.) I've used up all of my emotional energy, and a good bit of my physical energy as well. It's time to sleep now- even if that means I take a 15 minute time out to nap in the car. When I come back, I'll be my normal happy self- after a strict "15 minute wake up time" policy has been enforced. Let's be reasonable here.

Conclusion- Kate needs sleep.

Note #1- I've only progressed to stage four this week.
Note #2- Assuming someone doesn't try to return my call after 9:30 (cough, Katie, cough), I should get enough sleep tonight and will be out of the tired stages altogether.

To the Future Tenant of This House

Note: While I generally write about things that have piqued my interest in the last day or ten, today I noticed that I have about twenty unfinished posts for this blog. Starting today and continuing until I remember to finish and post all of the drafts, The Rambling Buckeye will take a scary trip down memory lane and try to remember what Kate was thinking about at that moment in time. This first post was written in January of this year.

I've been reading a lot about buying homes lately. Everything from how to find a buyer's agent to pre-qualifying to closing costs- I want to know about it. One interesting tidbit I came across recently was a suggestion to ask the seller for a list of "quirks" that are unique to the house. As I grow more and more aware of the "quirks" of my current dwelling, I have taken to writing them down, and will now share with you.

Dear Future Tenant,

1.) If you don't enjoy cool, arctic breezes flowing through your home in mid-January, you absolutely MUST wrap each window in plastic.

2.) You must also have two rolls of packaging tape on the ready so you can reinforce the plastic when your handiwork is unsealed any time the wind gusts more than 15 mph. It will happen. (Update: Forget packaging tape. Not only is it useless against the wind, you are also wasting materials that could help you GET OUT! Go straight for the duct tape.)

3.) Any water spigot with a red handle has an equal chance of being the hot or cold water main. Also, the bathtub faucet is backwards.

4.) Are you sure the front door is shut and latched? You'd better check again. Again- we're talking 50-50 odds here. (Update: ever since that last big thaw, the door has been sticking. Go ahead and give it a big shove. If it breaks, I'm sure they'll try to fix it with a blowtorch.)

5.) If you want to have fun some Friday night, just get a level and check the floors in the house.

6.) The mice here are sneaky bastards. (Update: This includes their penchant for dying while you're out of the house for an extended period of time)

7.) The south room offers the best view of the gas station, aka "Dinner and a Show." (Update: Today I figured out I have a great vantage point for shooting paint balls at Speedway customers who park in my driveway out of laziness)

8.) Each room has at least one floorboard with a decent sized crack in it. If you're careful, you'll never have to use a dustpan.

9.) If the bottom half of the house is unoccupied during the winter, be prepared to either offer your firstborn as a sacrifice to AEP or buy every article of fleece clothing you can find and hibernate for the winter. There are no other choices.

10.) Even though the cold water pipe to the washer is insulated and wrapped in heat tape- it will freeze anytime the temperature is below 10°. Also, don't even bother with the space heater. All it does is raise your energy bill and would start a fire in the only room that offers an easy exit to safety.

11.) If I've said it once, I've said it a million times: The only door that shuts properly is the closet door in the south room. The only door in a house with nine.

12.) Yes, that door leads to the attic. No, I don't know what's up there. No, I will not go up there with you. 

13.) If you haven't signed on the dotted line, there's still time.

Signed,
   She Who Did Not Do Her Research
   (aka, She Who Waited Until the Last Minute to Find Housing in a Rural Area)

I Locked My Keys in the Car (Or, How Not to Meet People)

You know those moments where you're just sitting there, minding your own business, and a startling thought just pops up in your head? While not frequent, I do have those moments. They're usually variations on the same theme- that I've left something hot (curling iron, stove top, candle warmer, etc) operational in the house and am now too far away to easily deal with the situation. Only rarely have I ever actually forgotten to turn something off and store it properly, and I usually feel like an idiot for worrying about nothing. But every so often, that feeling of dread is spot on.

Having lived in Logan for eighteen months now, I decided that now was as good a time as any to become more involved in the local scene and perhaps make a few local friends. You know, allies for when I inevitably tick off certain natives by correcting them for using the word "collar" for "color" or saying that "they seen" instead of "saw." Also, it's nice spending face-to-face time with friends more frequently than the once every month or so that I'm home. In any case, this day I was sitting in the pew at church, waiting for the message to begin, wondering what kind of friends I might meet here. That's when I got that startling thought.

"Where are my keys?"  I don't even know what prompted it. There is literally no reason for an adult to have their keys in hand while a sermon is being delivered. None.

"Pay attention. You never leave your keys behind." It's true. If other people drive my car, I make them hold the keys up over their head to show me that the keys aren't still inside.

"Good job. You sat on your keys." There's a certain seat shift that happens during worship. I start with me on one cushion and my stuff on another, and by the end of worship I'm usually two cushions over. I'm not a hand raiser, but I am apparently a swayer.

"Which pocket did you leave them in?!?!" It's incredibly awkward to try and find your keys in your pocket while you are sitting in a pew. Looks a little like you're picking your underwear.

"Just go outside, you'll see they aren't there." Nope. Keys were still in the ignition.

I want to meet new people. I want to make friends. My idea of a good first impression is not walking up to the woman at the children's desk (aka, probably the most responsible, conscientious, and "with it" person in the church due to the nature of the job) and say, "Hi! I locked my keys in the car and I also left my phone and my wallet in that same car, so I don't have the means to contact anyone who can help me." After three failed attempts to call lock-out services, she looked at my with a pity glance and said, "Oh honey, just call the police."

I want to get to know people in the community. I do not want to get to know the police when they have to rescue me from my own denseness. Also, I asked the cop what his name was after he opened my door. He politely, yet quizzically, shared his name. I found out later that he had just won a service award and is generally well-known and well-regarded in the city. Ha. Newbies.

The good news is- my car was opened and the day was saved. I am glad to have made the acquaintance of two new people despite the circumstances. I will continue my quest to have more successful interactions with the general public. The end.

Five Minutes

"Ma'am, I'm here today to talk to you about your service with AT&T.  Our records show that you're a customer with us.  Is that right?"  He was obviously a new employee and was still nervous talking about his sales pitch.  When I told him that yes, I was a customer and was happy with my service, I could see it put him at ease and that he was now much more comfortable talking with me.  That ease and comfort lasted for about another two minutes, until I realized that I had again fallen victim to my "five minute rule" and had to interrupt him.

What is the five minute rule?  Well, a long time ago I realized that I don't wake up well.  If I am sleeping in and I wake up naturally, that's one thing.  But if I'm startled out of my sleep, it seems to take my brain about five minutes to sort everything out.  I can walk around, get dressed, even take the dog outside for a walk during that time; but I can't talk.  That is, not if I want anything coherent or helpful to come out of my mouth.  

The first time I noticed this was at a sleepover.  My sister, my best friend, and I were watching a movie together.  I had just gotten off work and was exhausted, so I started dozing off towards the end of the movie.  Their laughter startled me awake, and when I got mad and protested that I was in fact, only "resting my eyes", they asked me what they were talking about.  I had actually heard most of the conversation, so I opened my mouth to repeat what had been said, only to utter the words: "Buns and dogs."  (I had been slicing and packaging hot dog buns at work all night.)  

The second time I noticed this is probably the best example.  I had been going through a little bout of insomnia, and after five days of only sleeping for four hours at a time, I had finally managed to fall asleep at a decent hour.  What seemed like only minutes later, I was woken up by my dad.  "Kate, Kate.  Wake up!"  I was really angry and was going to yell at him until he said, "The sheriff wants to talk to you."  Now, at this point my poor brain was on overload.  Not only was I startled awake, I was jarred out of some of the only restful moments I'd had in days.  Within those first five minutes the cop asked, "Where were you driving your white car tonight?"  Within those first five minutes I replied, "I didn't drive anywhere tonight.  But talk to my sister, she drives a white car."  Didn't even try to talk about where I had been that day or where I had gone, I just said the first thing that came to mind and shifted blame to my sister.

There have been a few little funny incidences here and there over the last few years, but I've had some very interesting experiences over the last few weeks.  About a month ago, after a long morning filled with shopping, rearranging furniture, and cooking, I decided to lie down and take a nap.  All was well until I woke up to the dog barking.  Cooper never, ever barks, so to hear him barking and growling is always a little unsettling.  After the stranger introduced themselves, I opened the door.  He asked me how I liked my service with AT&T.  He was obviously pleased as I heaped praises on his company and their superior internet service.  About halfway through the conversation, the five minute mark passed.  All of the sudden it clicked in my head: "Wait, you're with AT&T?  Oh, I have Time Warner."  He seemed a little hurt, like I had done that on purpose just to mess with him.  I promised him several times that I hadn't!

I hate, hate, hate shopping in stores around Christmas.  So this year, in an attempt to help kill small businesses everywhere, I shopped with Amazon.  This meant lots of visits from the UPS guy, who always seemed to stop on the days when I was exhausted and catching a short siesta right after work.  Three times he stopped when I was napping, and three times I thought I got up peacefully, locked up the dog, and signed for my packages.  In reality, three times I woke up with a start, wrangled the dog into the bedroom in loud fashion(accidentally pulling him too hard once and making him yelp), and stumbled to the door.  The first time I signed my name properly, the second I scribbled my name on the screen, and the third time the driver just tossed the package up against the door and yelled "UPS!" before darting back off to the truck.  I'd like to think he was just in a holiday rush, but I really think he was just wanting to avoid the mess that is me after I wake up.

In any case, if I had made myself a New Year's Resolution I would have tried to find one that would help me be less of a monster for those five minutes.  We'll have to see if I can work that one out!

Phones

Once upon a time, I used to hate making or taking phone calls. I think not having that face-to-face interaction with a person is what made a phone call difficult. It could also have been the fact that I didn't much care to talk to people I didn't know. Either way, wasn't a fan of phone calls. Now though, after two jobs which required very frequent phone usage, I'm over it. In fact, I love talking to people on the phone.

I don't have to answer the phone very often at my current job, nor do I attempt to, as most of the calls are usually for my supervisor or our office secretary. But on the days when I'm alone in the office or on the days when the phone just doesn't stop ringing, I'll help out and answer the phone. I am never disappointed.

"OSU Extension, Vinton County. This is Kate speaking, how may I help you?"
"15x32 filter!!"
"I'm sorry?"
"15x32 filter!!!!"
"I'm sorry, but this is the Extension office."
"Oh. This isn't NAPA?"
"No."
(I'm hoping it's the same person each time, because I've had conversations similar to this three different times)

<my intro>
"My name is Raul, and this call will be monitored."
"Okay?"
"We need to speak to <former employee>"
"I'm sorry, they no longer work here."
"Ma'am, you shouldn't lie about these things."

<my intro>
"Yeah, I just want to know when my court date is."
"I'm sorry?"
"I didn't know what the number was, so I just tried this one. Sorry if it's not right."
"No, this isn't the courthouse. I can give you their number though."
"Can't you just transfer me?"
"No. We're not in the same building, and we're not on the same phone system."
heavy sigh "Well, I guess I'll just have to do this myself."

Answering the phones is always an adventure.

One Year Later

I made it. 365 days in Logan and at my "new" job. I made it.

I've survived an earthquake, floods, and that winter. I've survived life in this whack-a-doodle thing I call a house.

I've started referring to my trips to Lancaster as trips to "the city."

I've discovered that people here think chicken and noodles is a dish best served...everywhere.

I've learned that no benefit or fundraiser is complete without a Chinese auction.

I've discovered that I think there is such a thing as too many trees.

I've taken five steps closer to old cat ladyhood by adopting Mose.

I've found Lake Logan, and found that I wish I could live along its banks.

I've found that living one block away from ALL the law enforcement makes for loud times.

It's been quite a year, to be sure. Mostly it's been wonderful, and the few things I'd like to see change will simply take time.

So- here's to (at least!) another 365 days of life in Logan, OH!

This Blog is about Frogs

I found a frog today. I like frogs. I was afraid I had killed this particular frog with the lawn mower, so when I found that it was still alive, I picked it up and trekked back to the house to show the family. Now, about halfway back I questioned this act, as it would seem that I am a little too old to be showing off common wildlife to my parents. I justified my actions and, as a result, I created the following quiz to help you avoid confusion and determine if you are, in fact, too old to show off a frog (or any other fun wildlife) the next time you find one:

1.) Are you over the age of 13?
     a.) Yes --> proceed to question 2.
     b.) No. --> everyone thinks a kid showing off a frog they caught by themselves is cute. You're good.

2.) Have you ever caught a frog before?
      a.) Yes --> proceed to question 3
      b.) No. --> you have accomplished one of life's greatest feats. You're good.

3.) Have frogs been seen or captured on this property before?
      a.) Yes --> proceed to question 4
      b.) No. --> you found a new species of animals living on your land. You're good.

4.) Are you a professional, unfazed when the frog inevitably leaps from your hands and nearly gets loose?
      a.) Yes --> proceed to question 5
      b.) No --> shout ahead to the group as you approach, and make sure someone has a camera as you scream like a little girl when the frog escapes your grasp. You're good.

5.) Is the sum of the digits of your age more than 13? (Ex. I am 26. 2+6=8)
     a.) Yes --> Take that frog back to the house. If you're that old, there's a good chance you have kids or grandkids who would appreciate the sight. Even if you don't, all of your family members who are at/around your age will be impressed you didn't break anything as you caught said frog.
      b.) No--> You can say the sum is your "young at heart age," and since it's less than 13, you're good.

In case you didn't notice, there is no reason why you should not show off when you catch a frog.

Have a wonderful Easter, and enjoy this beautiful day!

Ya'll Make it Look So Simple

A few weeks ago, my boss stuck his head in the door to my office and asked, "You still up for going to 4-H out at West?" Despite the cackles coming from my co-workers, I heartily agreed. I love 4-H. I think all kids should have the opportunity to participate in 4-H if they so desire. I am convinced that the only reason I have this job today is because I was in 4-H as a kid. Obviously, I had to say yes.

Now, after school 4-H is not quite like regular 4-H; at least not here anyways. Instead of choosing individual projects, we take a STEM-based activity that was created by the 4-H educators in the state and let the kids play around with the experiment while they learn the math and science concepts behind it.

Yesterday was my second week of after school 4-H. The first week went wonderfully well- after all, we had a small group and an fun, yet simple experiment. The kids finished their activity and went off to play outside, all inside twenty minutes. "I can do this," I thought to myself. I still didn't know what my other co-workers were complaining about. Now I know.

The first sign of trouble was when ten little urchins ran into my room, all ready and eager to build "roller coasters" out of pipe insulation and tape. What happened next made me realize just how simple parents and teachers make their jobs look to people on the outside. Here are my top 5 "Ya'll Make it Look So Simple" moments:

1.) Teachers make it look so simple to keep twenty kids under control. I had eight (two ran out of the room before we even started), and between hearing "I NEED MORE TAPE!"  "Come watch my roller coaster," "Why won't my roller coaster work," and "Hey, can I go outside now?" I never stopped spinning.

2.) Parents make it look so simple to keep the peace. While 75% of my kids worked together to build their roller coaster, the other 25% tried to turn construction into a full-on political debate, complete with name calling and ridiculous facial expressions in response to the other kid's statements. Oh, and it's really hard to referee a debate when you have to keep getting people MORE TAPE.

3.) Teachers and parents make imparting knowledge look easy. The point of today's lesson was to get the kids to think about energy, inertia, friction, gravity- all those physics things on which I have a VERY, VERY loose grasp. So as I attempted to explain these terms on a second grade level, I was still met with blank stares. Of course, my explanations were interrupted with demands for MORE TAPE, so I could have left out a few key points, I'm not sure.  Thankfully, everyone knew what was happening by the end of the session.

4.) Parents and teachers make reasoning with young ones look easy. Let me just say that eight kids, marbles, pipe insulation, and MORE TAPE does not make for a small mess. Trying to convince eight kids that just because they didn't make that particular mess doesn't mean they can't clean up that mess seems to be next to impossible unless you have the ability to lock them in a room.

5.) Parents and teachers make patience look easy. Sometimes MORE TAPE doesn't mean that your roller coaster will work properly (especially when you try to construct the most complex track layout known to the pipe insulation roller coaster world and there's not one starting point to get your marble moving...) and you have to give just a little extra help to make everything okay again. After five minutes of trying to convince a student that MORE TAPE wasn't going to help the situation, we finally got the marble to roll through enough of the roller coaster for the project to be deemed a success. And then they left. And then I had MORE TAPE to clean off the counters and chairs and and and where are the marbles?!

The moral of this story is, I don't know how you all make it look so simple, and I am not eager to find out any time soon. WIC cured me of ever wanting to be pregnant and have babies under six months of age or anything with the designation of "toddler." After school 4-H has cured me of ever wanting a large family or being a grade school teacher. Also, I am cured of ever thinking tape is a viable solution for any problem. That includes duct tape. The end.

The last four weeks...

"Oh my gosh.  I'm so weak. I don't think I can push this weight any higher..." Thankfully, I go to the gym around 8:00 p.m., otherwise I'd have had a gym full of fitness buffs watching me fail instead of just the married couple and the two random chicks who are usually at the gym the same time as me each night.

Back in the middle of February, I found myself stuck inside on yet another sub-zero night. I sat on my bed and looked at the clock on my computer before sighing. "Ugh, another day wasted." Another day had gone by where I went to work, came home, ate dinner, and then wasted my night watching Netflix while I surfed the internet. It was that same night that I decided that I was going to find a way to get to know my community, make friends with the people in my community, and basically just get myself out of the house more than, well, no nights each week.

Some of the activities I have chosen have been purely for pleasure: I went on a "night hike" at a local MetroPark, where I got to watch beavers and see wood frogs, which can survive being frozen solid throughout the winter. True story. Some of my endeavors serve the greater good: I have volunteered twice at the local food bank packing boxes for a supplemental food program. Last week I moved 1,500 lbs of beans in under three hours! Still other ventures are borderline torture: I joined the gym. This is where my spectacular display of weakness occurred a few weeks ago.

After two weeks of simply using the elliptical and treadmill, I decided to start playing around with the weight machines. Women have weaker upper body strength, right? Well, that might be the case now, but I was going to make sure that I wasn't just another statistic. (Have I ever explained to you that my pride will eventually be my downfall? It will be.)

So there I was, machine number one. Pretty easy, just pull down on a bar that has a couple of weights attached to the other end of the pulley. Damn. I'm pretty strong. I'm pulling like, 25 lbs, and I haven't worked out since I left Martin's Creek. I'm pretty awesome. Ten reps finished (ladies and gents, I realize how lame these initial workouts were. Remember, I have a pride problem). On to the next machine, which is kinda like a rowing machine. Another 25 lbs, another ten reps done. I am so strong. I can see my muscles moving under my shirt sleeve as I work with the weights. I'm going to have superior upper body strength in no time.

Last machine. Lifting weight over my head? You got it. Especially since they're not free weights, I have all the confidence in the world. WEAK! SO WEAK! What? This is only 12.5 lbs? My muscles are screaming for mercy. Forget ten, five reps is really all I need to do, right? I'll probably tear my rotator cuff, just like everyone in my mom's family if I keep this up. WEAK! SO WEAK! What is that only number two? What the heck? WEAK! SO WEAK! I am going to have to take all the aspirin when I get home if I want to be able to move tomorrow. WEAK! SO WEAK! Okay, one more. Just one...WEAK! SO VERY WEAK!

I let the weight rest gently in the start position and got up to clean up the machine. Now sore and slightly embarrassed, I glance around the room. Nope, everyone seems to be engrossed with Dancing With the Stars. I'm safe from their laughter tonight. Phew.

Now, four more weeks have passed and I'm slightly less weak than when I joined the gym. But if you're ever in Logan and want to see a comedy show, come watch me not be able to lift weights over my head. I promise it'll be one of the most hilarious things you've seen in a long time!

P.S.- Sheryl- But dontcha know, that it hurts me so, to say goodbyyyyyye to yoooooouuuuu? Wish I didn't have to go, no no no noooooooooooooooooo (You're welcome)

The Benefits of Being Angry

It's been awhile since I've been angry. I've been frustrated, I've had to vent, I've been irritated and annoyed at times over the last few months, but it's been awhile since I've been angry. That ended today when I got a message from a certain employee who works for DHEC. (All I want is to be able to file my taxes. Is it too much to ask that you send my W-2 to the right address?) Now, normally I'd try to get over the angry feeling quickly, but today I realized the benefits of being angry and decided to remain in that state for some time.

First benefit? Exercising is much easier. I was so angry at this employee that I totally forgot to care how out of breath I was or how much time I had left to go. This isn't the first time I've noticed this phenomenon. Coincidentally, the last time I angry exercised was about a year ago, when I was angry at DHEC as an agency. Hmm...

The second benefit was to the house. Housework is usually pretty boring, and it's a chore just to stay interested in the task long enough to finish cleaning. Tonight, however, I kept trying to make sense of this whole mess, and by the time I finally decided to stop trying to make the senseless make sense, my dishes were clean, the floor was mopped, and the trash was gathered.

Lastly, anger takes away my perception of temperature. Today I wore a light sweater with 3/4 length sleeves. You might say, "Kate, it was only 23° when you got home tonight." True, but that didn't keep me from leaving my coat in the car as I walked into the store. When someone in the store asked, "Aren't you cold?" I realized that, yes, I was physically cold, but my anger kept me from realizing that fact.

Now that it's 9:30 at night, I'm no longer angry. Don't get me wrong, I'm still very annoyed, and at least one person is getting a letter tomorrow explaining my annoyance, but I'm not angry. Which is good, because easier exercise and a clean house is not worth high blood pressure and the release of cortisol. Now excuse me while I decide whether my letter is going to be "Southern polite" or "Yankee brusque." The result remains to be seen...

This Old House

I like homes with character. The Greek Revival/Antebellum style makes me feel like I've stepped back in time, just looking at a farmhouse with a wraparound porch makes me feel relaxed, and Victorian homes are just extremely elegant. So when I moved into the top half of an old Victorian home, I was a happy camper. Now, exactly six months later, I'm still enjoying most of what I encounter here, and just write down the rest so that I have fodder for any future writing pursuits. Here are some of my favorite anomalies:

1.) There are eight doors in this house and only one closes properly. The other seven do not shut because they have bad hinges, no longer fit in the frame because of house settling, or have original yet non-working latches. Oh, and that one door that closes properly is not the bathroom door.

2.) I'm pretty sure there's a mouse living in the walls behind my refrigerator. 

3.) There are sparrows living in my air conditioner units.

4.) Late last week I encountered the following plumbing situation: I got cold and lukewarm water from the kitchen sink, hot and warm water from the bathtub, and no water from the bathroom sink. They're all on the same line. 

5.) My landlord brought over a washer and dryer for my apartment. The first time we tested the water, the pressure caused a pipe to break at the elbow, causing the pipe to shoot across the room as water flooded the room. There's an electric outlet right next to the pipe. It's a miracle we weren't electrocuted.

Anyways, in spite of the fact that I have used colorful language to describe this house on more than one occasion, I'm blessed with very kind landlords and am perfectly situated when it comes to the locations of work, big cities, and recreation. So for the time being, I'm doing my best to enjoy my quirky Victorian house, which is now complete with a fluffy cat that sits on chairs in sunbeams. 

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…)