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.