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)