The Benefits of Being Angry

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

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

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

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

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

This Old House

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This

I woke up late this morning (by choice), moved slowly through my morning routine (because it's cold), and was in a general, sleep-deprived haze. Needless to say, I was not functioning at full mental capacity. But right as I walked out the door, right when I looked over the frost-covered rooftops of my little town and took a deep breath of the clear, frigid winter air, I had a revelation so clear that I stopped dead in my tracks. No, I hadn't forgotten my keys inside or left the oven on (two things I've very nearly done before); I simply realized all the little things that led me to "This."

Darius Rucker is a favorite of mine, both because he has a great voice and because he's a tie of sorts to Charleston. I love his song, "This," where he's singing about all the little things we "miss" in life; from traffic lights to closed doors/lost opportunities, lead us to "this," our current place in life. I've been living a pretty happy life over the last six months, so even when I'm thinking about my old life in SC or struggling to establish myself in a new town, I don't feel like I've "missed" anything. But this morning, I realized all I missed, and how I ended up with all "this." Enjoy.

When I was in school, I was sure that I was going to be accepted into the Coordinated Program, which meant I'd be a dietitian almost as soon as I left school. I'd get to wear my cool lab coat and I'd work alongside doctors and nurses all day. My job shadowing, my choice of electives, everything, was meant to get me into that program. Then, I didn't. I was way down the list in a long line of very qualified candidates. Oops.

I regrouped after that and set my eyes on an internship. Not quite as much fun (aka, not covered by school loans) and much harder to obtain than a spot in the CP, I eventually settled my sights on an internship that would give me the credentials I'd need, a master's, and the opportunity to create curriculum that would hopefully have an impact on an under served population. Oh, and it was going to be in Charleston, Illinois. That didn't happen.

By the end of my senior year I was burnt out on school, frustrated with my options for further education (and I thought a bachelor's was expensive...), and really just wanted to get moving with my adult life, so I moved to Charleston, South Carolina. I met more wonderful people and made more friends than I deserved, and I found a church where I learned more in three years than I had in all the time before that.

But this morning, I realized that because I missed my time in the CP, I didn't end up staying and working in the Akron area. Instead, I got to move to Charleston and experience a new part of the country and meet new people. When I didn't get that internship, I missed a chance to pay for my master's and live on private loans for three years. Now, my employer will pay for my education while I work at my super fun job which actually asks for us to create programming. And while I'm still missing all my friends in SC, I'm hopeful that in the near future, I'll have another "this" story!

Meow

Since I was five, my family has always had at least one cat. We've had quite a few memorable ones, including Daddy Kitty (who was female), Strawberry (who thought she should be human), Munchkin (who churned out more kittens than I thought possible), and Fluffy (who is now a sweet cat despite the fact that she was an evil, evil thing when we first got her). Up until last week, if you had asked me how I felt about cats, I would have told you that I thought cats were sweet, mostly docile creatures who were nice because they ignored you and left you alone most of the time. Now? Cats are demon spawn. Much like Lucifer, they are charming and cute until they think they can take over the world. Then, all hell breaks loose.

I went to a pet shop in Logan over Veteran’s Day weekend. I had been researching whether or not it would be feasible for me to get a parakeet and decided to see if anyone at the local store could offer some advice. I met a nice employee, we talked about the birds, and I headed towards the door. I would not have even noticed there were kittens had one little paw not stuck out and grabbed my shirt. But one did, and I was drawn in. This little kitten was so friendly, doing its best to try and slip through the bars so it could get closer to me and purring nonstop. I wanted to buy it on the spot, but walked out. Like any mature adult, I consulted three people about whether or not I should buy the cat: my mom, my sister, and my best friend. All three said no. So I spent five days trying to talk myself out of the cat before finally returning to the pet store to buy it.

The first five days were great. Mose is a fluffy, cuddly cat, and he liked to curl up in my lap while I wrote. Each night he slept on the small of my back, purring all the while. He liked to play with the catnip mice I bought him, entertaining himself for the better part of an hour most nights. He was so cute that I was almost willing to accept that I had taken two more steps towards crazy cat lady old spinsterhood by welcoming him into my house. Then, all hell broke loose.

I forgot that kittens don’t retract their claws very well. My legs are covered in little kitten claw marks from every time he has attempted to climb up into the chair by launching himself, claws first, onto my lap only to slip and hang by one claw onto my pants. I have also caught him hanging from clothes in my closet by one claw after he attempted to climb up them.

I forgot that kittens think everything that moves is something to attack. This includes my fingers as they move across the keyboard, my feet as I walk from one end of the apartment to the other, and my toes as I tap them to the beat of the music. One word: ouch.

I forgot that whatever you’re doing is the most interesting thing in the world and must be interrupted immediately. When I read he sits down right in the middle of the book. When I write in my journal he bites the pen and tries to run off with it. As I've been working on my writing projects this month, more than one paragraph has had ======= or ppppppppppppp or 888888888888 typed across the page. The best was they day he hit the backspace key.

I forgot that cats have no regard for your sleeping habits. Each night as I attempt to drift to sleep, he runs up and down the hallway, then jumps around in the boxes that I have yet to unpack before returning to the bedroom to jump in the clothes hamper, onto the dresser, onto the bed, and into the closet before repeating the pattern for the next thirty minutes.

So yes, my cat acts like demon spawn, but I really like my Mose. He's just so fluffy. He’s adorable when he plays with his catnip mouse. He runs to the door each night when I get home from work. He curls up next to me when I’m on the couch and purrs like mad. He looks so cute when he sits just so in the windowsill. Like I said, almost willing to accept that I’m two (maybe three) steps closer to crazy cat lady old spinsterhood. (Pray for me…)

Dream On...

"You have a lot of dreams, you know that?" It was craft time at OSU Extension, as we stood around a Christmas tree, decking it out with pretty lights and sparkly "ting." I looked up at the co-worker who said this with a quizzed look. She picked up on my look and proceeded to list off the three different dreams or "life goals" that I had brought up at one point or another. I laughed and simply responded that "she had no idea." As we finished our project, I expanded on my statement and laid out my various dreams.

1.) I want to be on Jeopardy! Between my extensive buzzer training in Bible Bowl and my knack for remembering some of the most random facts, I think I could be successful. I even have a great piece for the "player profile" they do after the first break.

2.) I want to play the block piece of "Sleigh Ride" with an orchestra. Boston Pops is preferred, but playing with any group that tackles the song would be acceptable.

3.) I want to show a cow. Considering the fact that the Jr. Fair has adult showmanship each year and kids willing to loan me a project animal for half an hour, this dream could be realized next summer.

Those three are just the ones my office knows about. Since I'm not good at narrowing down my goals, here's the rest:

4.) I want to get my pilot's license.

5.) When I get my first house, I'm going to buy a joggling board for my front porch.

6.) I want to be fluent in three languages, one of them French.

7.) I am going to figure out where my Homonai relatives lived before immigrating and then I'm going to visit that town. I'm also going to visit my Canadian great-grandparent's hometown just for kicks. Thankfully for my budget, the Birds and Henrys have been in Ohio so long there's no need to travel.

8.) I want a beach house on Sullivan's Island. (Even though Kacy thinks it's the worst beach in the world)

9.) I want to ride in a hot air balloon, sky dive, and bungee jump.

10.) I want to be a professor. My current job allows for this possibility. Have I mentioned how much I love my job?

11.) I want to make it back to SC within the next six months just so I can sit back and enjoy a Sunday morning with my Young Life friends (I've been trying to find an Ohio version of ya'll, and I'm realizing just how irreplaceable ya'll are!)

12.) I want to have book published- by a real publisher, not this Amazon self-publication nonsense!

13.) I want to live through tonight. I'm normally not bugged by bad weather (I did get to see a funnel cloud once and got to cross that off the list!), but living in a rural area with already sketchy power...I'm not thinking I'll sleep tonight ;)

Have a great evening, everyone, and stay safe, all of my Ohio people.

Apologies

I have a pride issue. I like to think that I operate on a higher plane of existence than I actually do, and I act like it far too often. But as the verse says, "Pride goes before a fall, and a haughty spirit goes before destruction." Over the last two days my pride has taken a fall, and my spirit, while not destroyed, suffered a few bruises. Allow me to offer some apologies to explain what has happened.

1.) I apologize to everyone I have secretly and not so secretly mocked regarding technological abilities...aka my mother and most other individuals over the age of 40. Yesterday I was unable to properly format a Word document even though the formatting was cutting and pasting. I also discovered that me using special features on Outlook is akin to me using an iPad: it just can't be done. Oh, and that was definitely me in the parking garage today looking for a slot to swipe my card when all I really needed to do was scan it.

2.) I apologize to my uncles for ever using you as an example in "bad behavior" stories. I recently discovered through some conversations that even the worst stories you, my mother, or my grandmother have told regarding your behavior as young adults (and, let's face it, as adults now) is child's play compared to what some other people's uncles have done and continue to do. In fact, I'm going to start filling out the sainthood paperwork for you all right now.

3.) I apologize to everyone of my colleagues in Ohio who has been referred to by a wrong name over the last four months. That includes you, Abbey/Amy, Taylor/Liz, Sandy/Lisa, and Jocelyn/Shannon. Although, in my defense, can I really be to blame that you are nearly identical to other people I in my life?

Lots of apologies all around tonight. On that note, I'm not going to apologize for ending this post. TTFN!

GPS

"No. No! NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I was traveling down a busy street, unable to divert my eyes from the road to figure out why, all of the sudden, my GPS decided that I needed to go from the far right lane to the far left lane in less than 30 feet. At the next light I took a second to decide why my machine freaked out on me all of the sudden. After a quick glance at the turn-by-turn directions, it appeared as though the machine gained a brain of its own and decided to override my request to avoid the death trap that is I-71's construction zone.

This is just the latest of the many, many mishaps sponsored by Magellan. Back in June I decided that it would be in my best interest to get a GPS unit. I wasn't sure that I could trust myself to print and remember to carry a Google map with directions through two airports, a hotel, and a rental car. I was scared that I wouldn't be able to find the building where my interview would be held, so I went out and bought an item I swore I'd never own.

Since then, it's been nothing but "fun." Magellan has a habit of not telling me about turns until they're less than two seconds from happening, usually after it told me to go to the furthest point from that turn less than ten seconds prior. That's how I got stuck driving in circles around freeway exits one day for twenty minutes when all I wanted to do was get to my hotel.

For as much as Magellan "forgets" to tell me that I need to turn, it has no problem incessantly yelling at me for no reason on other occasions. "RED LIGHT CAMERA AHEAD! RED LIGHT CAMERA AHEAD!" That's what it was yelling at me today, instead of telling me that I was about to miss a turn. Thankfully, at least one of us was paying attention.

Living in a rural area, there's not much in the way of reception- my radio gets NPR, Southern gospel, and only two local stations during the drive to work. From 1/2 mile outside of Logan until 1/2 mile outside McArthur, there is no cellphone reception, leaving approximately 20 miles of silence. This lack of reception applies to Magellan also- it's worse than useless getting me from point A to point B anywhere south of Logan (which is pretty much most of my travel area.).

So why keep it? That's the question I ask myself every day. As much as I like playing with technology, I still prefer my paper maps. Magellan, I hope you enjoy looking at the inside of the glove box.