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?
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
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.
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.
Saturday, April 11, 2015
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'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)
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
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.
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.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
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!
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!
Sunday, July 27, 2014
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.
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.
Monday, July 14, 2014
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!
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)