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.   

Best Moment of the Day

As I walked out of the health department on Thursday, I heard the door click and lock behind me.  It's not an uncommon sound, but it was a sweeter sound than normal, because it signaled the start of a four-day weekend.  For the last month and a half now, I've been looking forward to this weekend.  When I heard that click I thought to myself, "This is probably the best moment of my day."  Over these last four days, I've had that same thought several times.

Thursday, as I walked in to meet with friends I thought, "This is the best moment of my day."  Hanging out with friends and enjoying a change of pace from the craziness that is WIC is an awesome way to end the day.

Later that night, as I opened my futon into a "bed" and settled in for an Office marathon I thought, "This is the best moment of the day."  I rarely ever watch DVDs without using them as background noise while I'm doing other things, so to sit down and be comfortable while I enjoyed The Office was nice.

Friday morning when I woke up at 11:00 I thought, "This is the best moment of the day."  Depending on the day, I either wake up pressured to get up and get started working on a project or I wake up tired because I was up too late the night before.  But Friday, I woke up completely refreshed, having slept until I was no longer tired and knowing that I didn't have a thing planned for the day.  Talk about a great feeling.

Saturday morning, when I was singing my favorite songs while I cooked delicious food (Buckeyes and Chicken Pot Pie) I thought, "This is the best moment of the day."  I love to cook when I have free time, and Saturday was no exception.  I also love to sing favorite songs when no one else is listening, so that was good too.

By the time Saturday was over, I was exhausted after a day of hard work, a night of fun with friends, and a viewing of Inception (which I will forever label 'Worst Movie Ever.')  As my head hit the pillow I thought, "This is the best moment of the day."  It's a great feeling to go to bed knowing you're tired because you worked hard during the day.

Sunday after church I took Cooper for a long walk down the Sawmill trail and thought, "This is the best moment of the day."  It was fairly quiet, definitely warm, and great exercise while I cleared my mind.

This morning I was sitting on my patio and thought, "This is the best moment of the day."  It was sunny, the birds were singing, and it was just the right temperature.  Sitting and relaxing on my patio during the early morning hours without having to rush and get ready for work is fantastic.  (My new goal in life is to make that a daily occurrence)

Today I was at the checkout at Publix and thought, "This is the best moment of the day."  When you save $20.00 off your $45.00 bill because you combine sales with coupons, life is good.  It's pretty exciting.

Finally, at about 10:00 I looked around at my sparkling clean house I thought, "This is the best moment of the day."  Over my four day weekend, I finished everything I wanted to accomplish and then some, and I did it with time to spare.

But now, sadly, is the worst moment of the day.  I know I need to go to bed and get ready for work, but it's so much more fun to stay up and watch 30 Rock reruns while writing.  Stupid bills that need paid.  But I'm guessing that about 5:01 tomorrow afternoon, I'll be back to enjoying a "best moment of the day."