There IS such a thing as too early

Dear World (particularly the capitalist one),

I went to the store yesterday, December 30th. As expected, there was the section of the store full of clearance Christmas items (particularly useful discovery - by December 30th, there isn't much  that I can convincingly justify purchasing, so I need to never shop until 5 days after Christmas), and I enjoyed the last remnants of red and green and silver.

But then, to my absolute disgust, I found that the remaining space formerly allotted to Christmas deals was now occupied by Valentine's Day stuff!!! Valentine's! In December! You couldn't even wait to get to the new year? Really?!

The most absurd and ridiculous thing about this is it was all chocolates. Now, who receives chocolates for Valentine's Day? Women. Meaning they are bought by men, in general (although with the current state of things, who knows anymore). And who stereotypically doesn't shop early? Men. So, why do we need valentine's chocolates in December?

Perhaps there are some statistics you could release that show that people are giving up procrastinating and are becoming really on the ball. If so, I'd like to know why and how I can get on that bandwagon.

But if you just need some ideas about what to do with all that now empty space, I'm sure we can put our heads together and figure it out. You could spread out your current display stands, give some extra maneuvering room. Or highlight a random new special of the month, just like you do with summer stuff. There are many possibilities, I'm sure.

So please, please, can we put the Valentine's Day stuff back in storage, at least for a couple more weeks?

Sincerely,
Me

Suckered again

Movie trailers are proving to be a major downfall for me. They are so misleading that I keep getting fooled into thinking that the movie itself must be as great as the trailer. The latest movie trailer I fell victim too was for the final Hobbit movie.

After the first two movies, I swore I wasn't going to see the third in the theater. I wasn't going to spend my money for more cockamamie substories that don't exist in the book and don't seem to have any purpose in the movie. I wasn't going to put up with any more physics-defying CGI action scenes that left me feeling like I was transitioning between movie and video game, forcing me to suspend my belief to the breaking point (in case you wondered, my belief broke).

But then I saw the trailer. And I thought, "Okay, well, maaaaaaybe this one will be different. That trailer looks pretty good," thereby forgetting one of the prime rules of trailer watching: never assume the movie will be anything like the trailer.

Of course the trailer looked good! They left out all the dumb, bad stuff, and only showed the 2 minutes of really cool, good plot. And I fell for it! Again!!!!!

Another 2 hours of movie littered with fragments of subplots that never develop into an actual storyline, all the while not really dealing with the actual storyline to the extent it deserves. More physics defying CGI scenes (spoiler here, but NO, Legolas is not going to be able to use falling rocks as a staircase. You see, he is falling at the same rate as the rocks). Two hours packed with absurdly unbelievable action scenes that jarred the mind so much (even if you don't get physics, etc., your brain realizes something about that just doesn't work) that you couldn't really get sucked into the actual movie, because everything signaled to your conscious self that "This isn't real." (This is really poor movie-making. Absolutely no movie magic happening there).

But, they did do one thing incredibly right: The costumes and sets. Despite how ridiculous the movie was and how non-interested in the plot I felt, there was a certain fascination during the whole movie for me, and I kept trying to figure out what it was, when I realized it was the costumes. They were amazing. Very authentic. (Yes, you can have authentic fictional costumes. So just don't even argue). And of course the scenes were pretty awesome.

And even though the movie itself was pretty absurd, it did have some great moments, some good acting when the script actually let there be acting, rather than just a showcase of athletic prowess, and the visual images (other than the over the top, unreal fight sequences) were fantastic. And I guess I knew that that's what it would be, deep down, so I must have really wanted to see those visuals. In which case, I would say I got my money's worth.

But, if that's not what you're in the market for, don't give in to the lure of the trailer!!!!

Traditions

I read that today is the last sequential date of the century (12/13/14), so I thought, since I wasn't going to write it anywhere else, I'd at least make note of it here.

Well, I can check that off the list and be done. But, while I'm here, I may as well muse on some other topic as well.

For the last few Christmases, I've felt like something is a little lacking. I haven't been able to put my finger on what, or why, but this year, something occurred to me: I have no Christmas traditions.

At least, none of my own. Growing up, my family definitely had traditions (otherwise, why would I even care?!) but as an adult with no immediate family of my own except myself*, I tend to have one tradition, which is crashing at someone else's for the holiday and going along with their traditions. This is not a horrible thing--I have had some very wonderful Christmases, had fun with darling kids, and really enjoyed visiting with family (see *). But the only rituals I have at Christmas are eating more sugar than is good for me, watching Christmas movies, listening to Christmas music, and decorating. All of which create a great atmosphere, but don't really fill the season with meaning and draw me closer to Christ.

So I am going to try to create some traditions for myself. I've got a plan and while it isn't much, it is a start.

It may seem weird to create traditions for me and me alone, but sometimes, you have to stop waiting around for things to happen. I decided long ago that I wasn't going to wait to get married to buy tools, household appliances, furniture, etc., and it's about time I decide to do the same with traditions. So there, world!

*I'm in this weird place in life, where my immediate family still consists of all my siblings and parents, yet I think my siblings' immediate family may not consist of the same thing. Biologically, it's the same, I think, but in terms of a nuclear unit of people, it's different. This is as it should be--their priorities should be their immediate families (i.e. spouse and children). But that means my immediate family is me, which is just boring. 

My Favorite Things to do at Christmas

Enjoy the Christmas lights (we used to go on a car tour around town to look at them after tithing settlement. One of the traditions I really miss!)

Pick out awesome gifts for people

Listening to (and singing, even if not skillfully) Christmas music

Putting lights in my room so I can turn them on at night before bed

Put up decorations (what is it about Christmas decorations? There is nothing like them!)

Watch classic (and new classic) Christmas movies (Love me some Mr. Kreuger's Christmas)

Put up and look at Nativities

Holiday baking

read Christmas stories!!!

And most especially, read the Christmas story

We now return you to your regularly scheduled broadcast

Holidays and vacations always throw me for a bit of a loop. There's a certain incongruity about them, a disparity in context between the holiday and the normal day. I feel like someone is flipping the channel on me. I'm in the middle of one show, and then the channel changes and all of a sudden I'm in a different one, and just as I'm getting up to speed on it, the channel changes back to the first show and my brain has to adjust all over again.

Unfortunately, I need the breaks to cope, so I don't really know what to do but endure the channel changes, try to enjoy each show while I'm in it, and sort it all out later. I've enjoyed the latest channel change quite a bit, which makes it trickier to flip back, but in the end, I always have to. So, tomorrow, I'll be back to my regular program (comedy? drama? soap opera? reality TV?! Documentary...or nature show! Not an action flick or a crime drama, thank goodness, and not a sitcom at present. In terms of general interest, it's one of those local programming stations that shows City Council meetings. Yeah. Don't look for it on DVD!) 

Here's to the next episode! 

Yawn

I was walking home from the bus today, enjoying my usual random train of thoughts: "Gotta remember to pick up my packages from the office. Should I go home first or go straight to the office? I should pack tonight. And go to the gym. Do I need to do anything else? Wow, this velcro on the hood of my new coat really forces me to look up. It's like a neck brace! Muddy muddy muddy, I can't believe there is still that much water in the ditch from Sunday." And on and on. And it hit me that I am really bored with life at present.

I should now knock on every piece of wood I come in contact with for the next forever, because that is the kind of statement that invites all sorts of trouble. The Universe hears something like that, and it's going to turn your life upside-down and all around like a snow globe or a kaleidoscope and who knows where you'll end up. When evaluating the level of interestingness of one's life, it is always important to take into consideration both ends of the spectrum. There is good interesting and there is bad interesting, and I really don't want bad interesting. I've had more than enough of that for the last long while, and I expect there is some stressful interesting approaching in the near future, but could it please please please just lead to some good interesting? Non-stressful, enjoyable, happy interesting? That would be really really great.

I suppose I am complaining here, and to clarify, boredom is much better than other phases of life. So much better than being so stressed you feel like you are going to explode from the anguish. In comparison, boredom is kind of relaxing. And there are lots of fun things going on. It's not that there is nothing interesting going on. It's just that overall, on a macro level, life is getting a bit monotonous. It's like driving across Nebraska, you might say.*

Fortunately, Thanksgiving is upon us, which launches the holiday season with accompanying festivities. So it will be a change of pace, hooray!

Plus there's pie. How can you go wrong with pie?!

*Personally, I didn't mind driving across Nebraska. And I have very fond memories of a gas station in Omaha that saved my bacon by ordering me an oil cap. 

Remembering Real Americans

I am not what you might call patriotic. There are several reasons for that: 1) perhaps due to my lack of competitiveness, I just can't get into the "we're the best" mentality, 2) I can't ignore the warts, which also puts a damper on the Rah Rah USA spirit, and 3) have you seen our politicians? Hard to take any kind of pride in that.

But I do have my own brand of 'patrioticness', shall we say. Maybe I don't think we're the best country in the world, or that our way is the only way, but I sure do like living here. And I haven't yet found a perfect country, so this is a pretty darn good one to be in. And, yes, we have our warts, but if we didn't, there wouldn't be much to love or care about. And, again, show me a country without a few warts. (But can we all get over our USA Superiority complex? Please?)

But most important, politicians don't really count. They aren't America, thank goodness. America is everyone else, including veterans. I recently went to a football game during Military Appreciation week, and I tell you what. I don't get teary-eyed about the good ole US of A much, but when I saw all of those veterans being honored, I was a bit weepy. Because these are the people who fought for me. I know, I know--they were fighting for their country. But "America" is a pretty abstract, shallow idea and I don't think it is enough to sustain anyone in a military setting long enough. Maybe it works for some people, but if there isn't something concrete behind it, it's not going to survive the first bullet whizzing by your head.

I think people who join the military are really doing it, not for Uncle Sam, but for a real uncle, aunt, mom and dad, brothers, sisters, friends, neighbors, and so on. They are doing it for the person in the grocery store who lets you go first, or the neighbor who rakes your leaves when they don't have to. They are doing it for the waitress at the diner who has absolutely no reason to be nice to you but is anyway. They do it for the kids who don't even know what war means yet, and the moms who have spent all day chasing 3 year olds and folding laundry and cleaning up messes and the dads who didn't get to see their little kid do that funny thing because they were at work earning money to pay for a house. I don't think people join the military for the politicians. I think they do it for the Ordinaries.

And so, thank you to all the veterans who are fighting for that America, because you are making a huge sacrifice. And thank you to their families, who make that sacrifice with them. Because it's people like you that make America worth something.

In Memoriam - ish

This week I went to a memorial service for a co-worker who died of cancer. Now, to give some background, I was not close to this co-worker even though I worked directly under her for three and a half years. I thought she was a very nice person, a very gentle and optimistic person, but I didn't really know much about her and never did really figure out what made her tick. This could lead to frustration in a work environment, but not because I didn't like her, just because the reality is that when you spend 40 hours/week around people working with them, there's bound to be some friction sometimes.

The second piece of background information that is important is that I have only been to 3 other funerals in my life, all of them L.D.S. funerals and none more recent than 12 years ago. So I don't really have a good foundation to compare this memorial too.

That being said, it felt very hollow and empty. The person presiding (I'm not sure what her official title is) was lacking in conviction in my mind and what little religion she brought to it didn't seem to really offer much hope or comfort, which was strange to me. But the other thing that was odd to me was how little there seemed to be said about the deceased. I had this idea that maybe I would come away knowing her a little better, as someone besides a boss, and was quite disappointed. The first speaker told about their work on a project together, and a lot of it was the history of the project, with very generic statements about my co-worker. The second speaker, another co-worker, sounded like she was presenting at a professional conference, not talking about a human being. The only person who really came across as having had any kind of relationship with the deceased was her brother. And I couldn't help thinking how sad it was, because she was so much more than a project or a career. I don't know what else there was, but there was more than that. She was a human being with interests and frustrations and concerns and idiosyncrasies, but no one seemed to talk about that. It was a resume, not a remembrance.

This got me thinking about what people would say at my funeral. First, I don't know who would even speak at my funeral, but I sure hope they wouldn't see the sum total of my life as the job I held or some project I worked on. I also hope they would have the good sense not to make me a one-dimensional character by only speaking about my positive traits. I want people to know that I was flawed. I want them to know that I wasn't always positive, even though I always wanted to be a positive person. I want them to know I struggled with my temper and felt bad about that. I want them to know that I didn't eat right and didn't get enough sleep and wasn't always as compassionate as I could have been. But I also want people to know that even though I wasn't as good as I wanted to be, I wanted to be good.

I want people to know that I found joy in giving gifts and doing little things for other people, just to see them smile. I want people to know I was a bit snarky and mischievous. That I liked to make people laugh and even though I was really shy, was also a bit of an entertainer in that sense. I want them to know that I loved learning and sharing what I learned. I hope people know that I wanted to make my corner of the world a little better and just wanted people to be happy.

I hope people will know that the most important thing to me was my faith and that it was the only thing I couldn't live without. I hope that there will be enough evidence of that in how I lived.

I hope they will read something I've written, or that my nieces and nephews will remember that I made up stories. And that I loved hugs. I hope they will talk about all of the books I owned. I hope they will have memories of me being with them. I hope that they will say I made some kind of difference, big or small, in their life. I hope they will miss me, and I hope that I will be a real person for them.

So, now that my hypothetical funeral is over, I think I'll get on with living and hopefully managing to be the person I want to be in the process. And maybe someday, I will finally get to know my co-worker for the person she is.

And the Ordinary goes to...

The lady in front of me at the grocery store. It was kind of late, so the store wasn't crowded, and I wasn't in a huge hurry, and she was almost done. But then one of her coupons didn't work, and there were a couple of other things. For once, I wasn't trying to catch a bus or anything, so I didn't really even mind waiting, and she was just a generally nice person. I started scanning my stuff and she was bagging her groceries, and next thing I know, she was bagging mine. "My husband usually bags our groceries while I ring them up, and I figured since you had to wait for me with the coupon thing..." I know bagging may not seem like a big deal, and I don't think I realized until tonight how stressful it is to have to bag all your stuff--especially when other shoppers are trying to ring up their stuff and you feel like you are in the way (I always feel bad about that. Lo, the wonder of the self-scan lane), but that wonderfully ordinary woman made my night so much easier and better. So, thank you woman at the grocery store, for your thoughtful gesture.

Bus 'Adventures'

Buses are a very interesting experience in so many ways. I think I need to figure out a way to turn my bus riding experiences into some kind of study and at least profit by all the human behavior I observe.

For example, the deterioration of social boundaries. On more than one occasion, absolute strangers have asked for my name, my phone number, or a date. The only other place where I was hit up that often was in the Dominican Republic, where I was most often hit upon because I was viewed as a passport to America.

There are also bus conversations. People somehow seem to forget that they're in public when on the bus. I can't tell you how many rants and one-side-of-the-conversation phone conversations I have heard. I heard a really bizarre one the other day, I'm not entirely sure if this girl, we'll call her "Jane", knew the person she was advising or not, I think maybe not, but she was quite free with her insight. quite free with it and I'm pretty sure drunk. But, hopefully whoever the recipient was felt a bit better about life and didn't take her advice to get drunk.

Anyway, if you are ever in need of a psychology project, check out your local bus system. I'm pretty sure it won't let you down.

Because this is exactly what the world needed...

I was at a store today, mostly to be inside while I waited for my bus but also because I remembered I needed a padded envelope and I wanted to see if there was anything relatively decent snack-wise (there wasn't, not really) and I came across this:

Because, yes folks, my Ramen just wasn't cooking fast enough. Think of all the time I will save now! With my extra 3 minutes, I might just make it to the next level of that RPG. Bring on the Nobel prize.

Oh, world. What has happened to you?


*No Ramen was made in connection with this post. No Ramen has been eaten by the author in over 4 years, to the best of said author's knowledge. Maybe once, in that Oriental chicken salad. Furthermore, the author does not play RPGs and it should be noted that all RPG players do not eat Ramen. If you are into RPGs and do not play Ramen, the author apologizes for any stereotyping that results from this post. If for some reason you have such a low income that you can't afford not to eat Ramen, you have the author's deepest sympathy. May your future be Ramen free.

What every home needs

If I had to pick the most essential pieces of furniture for any home, a couch would be among the top three. Dining room/kitchen table? Nice but not essential. Dresser? Optional. Desk? Useful, but it's just going to lead to a pile of stuff that has to be dealt with eventually. But a couch? Essential. Requisite. A definite must.

When you are feeling sick or tired, you need a couch to curl up on. Watching TV? Not the same without a couch. A place for evening chats? Just needs a couch. Reading a book is so much better on the couch. 

So, 3 months in to my new place, and I still don't have a couch. I had a wonderful couch once. It took me several months to find it, but it was a wonderful couch. Great colors and pattern, extremely comfortable, just a great couch. Unfortunately, it was a sofa bed, and way too heavy to move, so I had to bid it farewell. But it set a very high standard for any future couches to live up to and it's been difficult to find one up to snuff (not that I've had a ton of time to look, mind). 

That being said, I'm tired of having no couch. This situation must be remedied and soon. Because I absolutely need a couch. 

A User's Guide to Me

The new director at my place of employment came with a User's Guide (don't ask me how I know this, I just do). And I have been thinking about it and this seems to me a very good idea. So, if I were to write a User Guide for myself, here's what it would include:

1. Be honest with me. Say what you mean, don't play mind games, and just be up front and honest with me. That doesn't mean be rude or a jerk about it. You can be honest and kind.

2. I am very contextual. What does contextual mean? You know when you do those questionnaires for personality types or whatever, and they ask how you react in a certain situation? I'm the one who is saying, "Well it depends. Why am I in that situation? What is the other person like? What about these details?" (This makes me a great player of Would You Rather.) I wish I could wear a t-shirt that said, "This is where I'm coming from. Where are you coming from?"

3. My context is that I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

4. I just want to be a kind, good, decent person. (That would also go on the context t-shirt).

So, those are the major things you should know about if you ever have to deal with me. There are probably other things, but those are some of the big ones. Wouldn't it be great if everyone had a manual?

Monday is still a Monday

I read a while back about a study that gave quantitative evidence that Mondays are no worse than any other day, which produced 2 reactions. 1) And you think that changes anything about how anyone feels about a Monday? 2) How are these people getting money for these studies, because I need in on this market!

Anyway, today was a Monday, and it was just such a Monday! Not because it was horrible or bad things happened. Just because it was Monday. Even if it had been a Thursday or Friday, everything about the day was Monday-ish, possibly with a little hint of Wednesday to it.

Poor Mondays. It's not their fault really, they can't help being the first day of the work week. But would it hurt them to add just a little bit of personality to life?

Why I am against self-driving cars

This weekend was my one glorious weekend of the month when I had a car. I always look forward to this weekend. So many things I can do, and so easily and efficiently! Freedom! Independence! The joy of the wind blowing through my hair--wait, what? No. No wind in the hair. Scratch that.

This month, I rented a Toyota Prius. Not by choice--that is what they offered. It's an odd car. It has a park button. And a weird gear shift. I don't even know how to describe it. Basically, the shifter (name of this thing, anyone?) always pops back to start after you switch positions. It's more like a joystick than a gearshift, is the best I can describe it. And that's not even really accurate.

Which is completely irrelevant to anything, but odd, and therefore, it must be mentioned.

The Joystick Gearshift

Anyway, most weekends that I rent a car, I run errands, visit family, and try to get stuff done. But there is one thing I always wish I could do: drive. 

I know, I know, I'm driving to do all that other stuff. But somehow, there is just never enough driving in the weekend. I mean, apart from the fact that I paid for the car and feel like I should make the most of it, rather than have it sit in the parking lot for 70 of the 72 hours I have it, I just miss driving. Really miss it. Really really REALLY miss it. (Okay, maybe that is a slight overstatement, but only by one or two capital letters). So, tonight, I just drove. I was going to just head home, and then I thought, "I've paid for this gas, I'm going to use it up." (Do you know how long it takes to use up gas in a hybrid car? A lot of miles, that's for sure!). So I just kept on going, and I drove and drove and drove and drove, for almost an hour. Not to anywhere in particular, just driving to drive. Following roads until they ended, then picking up a new one, on and on. It was beautiful. The driving that is. It was dark outside, so the scenery didn't come into the picture.

And that, friends, is why I oppose self-driving vehicles. It has nothing to do with anything else, really (although, of course I try to come up with logical arguments to save face). The reality is I don't want a car that drives itself. I  want to drive the car. I've done the bus thing, I know what it's like to just be a passenger in a vehicle that requires no input on my part. It's not all it's cracked up to be. It's incredibly dull, really. And it is not the same experience as driving a vehicle at all. It really isn't. 

So, yeah, I know that these self-driving cars are supposed to be safer, and can do all this cool stuff, and everybody is jumping on the bandwagon. And maybe I'm a dinosaur. But I'll pass on the self-driving car. Give me the wheel any day.

Roar.

This post was brought to you by:

The gang at Enterprise Rent-a-Car (including Ron and Alvin)

Toyota and its odd Prius

Hybridization

Huron River Drive

Grove Street

The Piano Guys (great driving music!)

Key fobs

and the internets

Lesser of two evils

I've had a pair of pants that I've needed to re-hem since I can't even remember. February? January? And then I got a new pair that also needed hemmed, a couple of weeks ago. And I've meant and meant to hem them.

So, yesterday I was down to no dress pants to wear. And apparently, when it is a decision between laundry and hemming, I'd rather hem. Both pairs are now hemmed, and I don't have to do laundry until tomorrow.

Head, shoulders, knees and toes

That is probably an extremely misleading post title. But it happens. (Sometimes, relevance gets sacrificed for the sake of wit).

Last week, I went grocery shopping and got caught in the rain. And the bus was late, so I decided to start walking to the connecting bus, instead of waiting (good plan, I might add--I passed the buses on the way to the end stop and I was almost to my connection. Yes, buses. Plural. The one that was late and the next one). But, it's impossible to carry groceries and hold an umbrella when groceries = more than one bag/one hand's worth of bags. So, I got wet.

Now, I have weird hair. It wants to be curly, but on its own, just gets these goofy waves. So I usually straighten it. Sometimes, I try to do it curly, but then it has all that mousse and stuff in it , and no one wants to touch moussy hair.

But, when I get rained on, my hair curls beautifully. Just the way I wish it would do on its own. But I've never been able to get it to do it without walking in the rain. Just nice, curl-waves that behave themselves. It is a strange phenomenon that I can't explain, but my hair has my personality, I guess. I too enjoy walking in the rain.

The other day, I bought a maxi skirt. I used to hate short skirts, but in recent years have been buying more of the knee-lengthish ones. I do have some longer ones, but none that long. (Okay, one. From high school. That has to be ironed. Ironed! It doesn't get ironed.) Um, I LOVED wearing that skirt today. It was comfortable. It was cool. It was long enough to keep my legs covered in the cold chapel. It was flowy and drapey and wonderful. I am restraining myself from buying 5 more. (I don't need five more. Maybe one more, though.)

I have this pair of sandals that I wore with it. I also adore these sandals. They are gladiator sandals, leather, and they have molded to my feet. And they are so comfortable. (Not if you are walking miles in them, but otherwise, yes). I get home and I don't want to take them off. I love the design and the fit. I am sad when summer ends and I can't wear them anymore. Because they are wonderful.

That's all for now from my fashion corner. If you have fashion questions, definitely talk to someone else.

And away I go

Tomorrow I am going on a trip. A road trip, all the way around Lake Erie. I will be able to check off all the great lakes in Great Lake Bingo, go to Niagara Falls, spend real time in Canada, and actually go on a trip that isn't to see family. A trip just to go on a trip! (Not that I don't love my family). And right when I can use a break from everything. It's gonna be a great weekend.

A bad case of the meh's

I've had a bad case of the mehs lately. Work has been incredibly stressful, which is unfortunate because it has usually been such a pleasant place that it offsets the meh-ness of the rest of life. So now there is the meh and the stress, which isn't really an improvement.

I knew it was bad when I had an incredibly productive Saturday (yesterday's productivity was up by at least 300% compared to the average) and at the end of the day didn't feel really good about it. I just felt meh. And by golly, I should have felt good! (I was pleased with what I got done, it's just the feeling didn't match up. Life's like that sometimes).

But today, I made an effort to learn people's names at church and to talk to people. Which, when you are feeling meh isn't always easy, but I did it. And I talked to my family, and had dinner with a friend, and got some emails sent to people I needed to get in touch with, and did some indexing. And I feel a little less meh now.

This week, my roommate (that's such a clunky and connotated word, I don't like it one bit) will be coming, so there will be company in the house. I sent my nephew a care package, since he is getting his tonsils out. (Hmmmm. I wonder if I should see an ENT about my tonsils/sinuses/e, n, and t. Put that insurance I pay for to good use and all...) And this weekend, I'm going to Canada. So, there are some very non-meh things coming up. This is good. Good timing, good things, and hopefully good-bye mehs. I could totally go for that.

Mi casa es su casa

I had someone come today and fix the internet* today. It was a little awkward, because I had to be here, but the guy was working and I was just muddling around trying to occupy myself while he worked.

Anyway, at some point in the process, I looked around my apartment and wondered what impression this guy got. I had scriptures sitting on my nightstand, a church magazine on the bed, a figureine of Christ on the dresser. My bookshelves have a ton of fantasy, World War II, and church books (more fantasy/sci-fi than the others, I feel obligated to disclose). And the place isn't what you'd call spic and span. Not that it's filthy, it just looks lived in. (How is it that one person who is only in the apartment for about 13 hours of the day and only awake for half of those, and hardly doing anything for the waking ones can need to tidy things up so frequently?) 

So I wonder what his impression was, if he even noticed. (He's probably been in so many houses, he tunes it out. I will say, he was very amiable, happy in his work). I wondered if he thought, "Oh boy, a religious nut." Which, if he did, is fine with me, because I can't remove that part of myself and have no problem letting it show, but I realize in my current geographic location, that may not be common. Or it may be. I can't say. At any rate, I think, looking around my apartment, that it is probably a pretty good reflection of me: Christian, a bit bookish, and somehow never quite on top of things. Amazing what walls can say about a person.

*And by fix, I mean get it to work, which it hasn't since I moved in. They did fix some wires, but I feel like 'fixing' implies that it once functioned and has broken, which maybe it has, but not since I got here. 

Shower Ideas

Generally speaking, I have a love-hate relationship with showers. I don't mind the shower part so much as the fact that it requires getting ready after the shower. And the fact that at that time of day (6:00 am), I just want to be asleep, not washing my hair. The person who invents a shower that will do all the work and let me emerge with hair done, face washed, etc., is going to be my hero. But I will say, I get a lot of good ideas in the shower. Little lightning bolts, zapping into my brain out of nowhere.

For example, the other day we found out that the exhibit we've been planning at work has been kiboshed (well, put on hold indefinitely). But while I was in the shower, I was thinking about all the things I've done at work that I need to put on my evaluation and remembered going to an enriching scholarship workshop on Story Maps, and I had this fantastic brainstorm about using some of the material for the exhibit in a Story Map. Which, granted, isn't going to change the world but it is a really good idea if I can pull it off.

And I get lots of other good ideas in the shower. If I didn't take them, not only would I reek, but I wouldn't be nearly as productive. So, to my brother-in-law who is trying to get his teenager to take faster showers: Don't rush her! Who knows what Nobel Prize Ideas she might be having!

kid in a toystore

My nephew wanted a Nerf Bow and Arrow for his birthday, just like his sister's only blue. For some inexplicable and unfathomable reason, Nerf does not have the good sense to make a bow and arrow for boys that isn't some weird looking thing with enormous darts. I didn't want to disappoint him, so I said, "Let's go shopping and you can look and see if you like it."

What I didn't realize is that he'd never been to a Toys 'R' Us. If you have never accompanied a child in a toy store, you should. It is a wonderful experience. There is just this sense of amazement that there could possibly be so many toys, and then there is this anxious need to try out EVERYTHING. So many buttons to push, lights to light up, things to touch and see. Things he'd never even imagined existed were staring him in the face and how could he not want them?

Needless to say, the bow and arrow was quickly overshadowed (in my opinion, it is still pretty darn cool) by all the options. But there was so much to choose from, how could he possibly decide? And I, his all-knowing (ha ha) aunt, thought I was sure he really did want the bow and arrow, and kept trying to steer him in that direction.

Now, to be fair, he really would have a blast with the bow and arrow. Nerf toys are awesome (I own some myself) and had he just been presented with 3 Nerf options, he would have picked one and been perfectly content. But it was eclipsed by the other possibilities. What really surprised me, though, was that he kept coming back to the bubbles. He wanted a bubble machine, and he even knew which style. I pointed out that he'd have to get more bubbles when they ran out, though (stupid me. I should have kept my mouth shut), and that seemed to be a major disadvantage: what fun is a toy that blows bubbles if you run out of bubbles?

I think in the end it worked out, though. He chose a giant (64 oz.) bottle of bubbles and a Lego Mixel. And, turns out his mom hasn't gotten around to birthday present shopping, so the bubble machine is an option now--and since he has a huge bottle of bubbles, what better present?

But I did learn some things. First, when going to a toy store with a kid, give yourself lots of time. Second, for young kids, they don't need tons of options, really. Even my nephew knew that he wasn't really interested in a lot of the stuff he saw. There were really only 3 or 4 options he was really considering. So, if possible, just pick something for them. They'll probably like it. Third, don't let your opinions and practicality get in the way. And finally, there really is something about a kid in a toy store.

July Christmas

After 2 years and 2 months of waiting and dust and distance, my books and I finally wound up in the same geographic location. It was like Christmas, and so, what else was there to do but plug in the Christmas tree, turn on the Christmas music, and "unwrap" my treasures?

Here's the starting pile. I did have one or two boxes that had traveled with me during the last 2 years. But 10 boxes were left in storage feeling unloved. I swear, though, I missed them!

 And the opening began. "I have that book? Oh, and I forgot about that one! And my WWII book collection, how could I have forgotten you?"

My annotated The Hobbit was one of those books I referenced many times in the last couple of years. It's nice to have it back on the shelf!

 Here they all are, just waiting to be loved and read and displayed. For people to browse them, read their spines, and curl up on a couch with them. Books don't belong in boxes!

Of course, the archivist/arranger in me did have to create categories and some form of organization. Thus the piles on the floor.

 But here they are, on the shelf at last. I love looking at people's bookshelves. You can tell a lot about a person looking at their bookshelves.

 There was only one problem: I ran out of space on the shelves! And so, four boxes had to remain packed up, until another bookshelf can be procured. (I'm sorry books, I don't love you less! I promise!) And then, maybe we'll have Christmas again...

You know you're an archivist when...

I'm finally getting around to unpacking the non-essentials, like the binders from grad school and the assortment of 'my life scrapbook' type material. You know--pictures, letters, ticket stubs, the miscellany you keep to document what you've done in life.

So, I got to this bin, which if I was stylish and had money would probably be a hope chest but is really just a Rubbermaid tub and decided to do some culling, as one does. And I kept thinking, "Man, I need to arrange this better. All the stuff from the DC trip should be in one folder, and my correspondence should be sorted by author, and I should have my journals in one place and tickets and stuff could be an event series."

Yes, folks, I think it's official. I'm a real, honest to goodness archivist.

Vocal exercise

I think my vocal chords don't get enough exercise.

I went to a conference this weekend and when I got home, my voice had that lovely hoarseness, like when you are getting over a bad cough or have spent 4 hours yelling nonstop at a football game.

To be fair, I was spending my free time in rather loud places and had to raise my voice above the clamor. And, I may have been hogging the conversational spotlight, too. But I have had this problem on other occasions, where I am in a social setting and come away hoarse. Given that on most days, I go to work and have an hour and a half to 2 hours of talking spread throughout the day, then come home and have no one to talk to, I think my vocal chords are atrophying.

So, yeah, I think maybe I need to make a bit more noise.

Be impressed

Whether you are a soccer (it's football people, football. Or futbol if you prefer) fan or not, you have to be pretty darn impressed by these numbers:

Yes, that's billions--1.08 billion, to be exact. And, yes, that says 0.57 seconds. So, basically, that is amazing.

Winning the family lotto

So, you don't really get to choose your family (outside of who you marry), but when it comes to the family-luck-of-the-draw, I think I won the lotto. I have a big family: 8 kids in my family, and more aunts and uncles and cousins than I can count on my fingers and toes. I was always a shy little squirt, so I was a bit intimidated by my aunts and uncles as a kid (generally speaking) and never really got to know them.

Which is a shame, but has provided me the wonderful opportunity to get to know them now. I don't see them much, just because I'm not in the same geographic area and because we are growing up and spreading out, but whenever I see them or talk to them or hear from them, I am just so amazed at how great my family is. From time to time, I call upon them for a favor, and I still feel a bit shy, but they always just cheerfully help out. And when I get done asking for the favor, I find I've also really enjoyed talking to them about stuff. My relatives are just great people who make you feel worthwhile (good grief, they remember my name out of the 50+ other nieces/nephews/cousins they have! That's remarkable in and of itself!) and just cheer me up.

So, whatever other lottos I lost I think I definitely won this one. Which is one of the most important ones anyway.

Time suck

I hesitate to say life is busy, but I do have a lot of things to do at the moment. Many of them are things that shouldn't take a lot of time, but do. For example, buying a plane ticket. Shouldn't be that hard. But, I have to coordinate getting to and from the airport, figure out what days to fly, wait for a paycheck, then gamble with prices going up or down, which means monitoring prices over a couple of weeks. Time consuming.

Or picking a doctor. I have no idea how to pick a PCP. I would love to just call up and say, "Hey, I'm a single 30-something woman looking for a PCP. Who do you recommend?" But, I don't think that would fly. So, I have to find doctors that I can actually get to via bus, then figure out what all their credentials mean, and then pick one. All using a very user-unfriendly system.

I have also spent a great deal of time finding housing. Again, a decision that shouldn't have been so complicated, yet was. And now I have to plan a move for this coming weekend and work out the details of that.

At work I'm balancing research for the committee I chair, my work for 2 different departments, and at some point before the end of the week I need to throw together a rough draft of a presentation for a conference taking place in 2 1/2 weeks. Which, I really don't have time for at work, but I don't have a lot of time in my personal life for it right now, either. None of which is helped by the amount of time it takes to travel from point A to point B by bus.

Really the biggest time suck I'm facing right now is worry. I have so many things to work on and decisions to make, and no clue how to deal with any of it, so I worry and worry and worry. And worry eats up a LOT of time. It's not just something you feel, it's something that really takes up resources - energy, time, attention, emotion. I wish there were a way to just pause time, regroup, and then jump back into things.

But since there isn't, I will just try not to panic too much.

Headlines

Study confirms geese fear 2-yr-olds
British television deemed better than American television
New Disney movie warns of 'winged violence'
Housing options, lack of transportation cause frustration for apartment hunters
Local citizen considering volunteering as guinea pig for hibernation research
Summertime travel called 'economic amputation' by some travelers
Call goes out for investigation of time shortage
New restaurant serves reindeer lichen with steak; others recommend dropping steak in a forest to save money
Life goes on

Major achievements

Some days, my biggest achievements are really small. Making a phone call, sending an email, getting to bed at a fairly normal time, eating vegetables. Being a semi-sane person. 

Last week my big accomplishment was using chopsticks. I was going to lunch at a Japanese restaurant with some co-workers and I knew that there would be chopsticks, and I really didn't want to be the one person using a fork. So, I came home the night before and, with the wonderful magic of YouTube, found a video on using chopsticks and managed to learn to use them well enough that I could transport food to my mouth without dropping it, at least most of the time. And the next day at lunch, I did alright. It was a major accomplishment for me. 

I realize it is fairly minor in comparison to what a lot of people achieve in a day or week, but I take my victories where I can find them. 

The Pumpkin

Everyone should have a good "old beater" car in their lives. The old beater in my life, at least the main one, was a 1981 Datsun hatchback that my family gratefully received from an uncle. This car was probably as old as I was, but I think I was the better looking of the two. It was this odd salmon color--I think the registration called it tan, but there is NO way this car was tan. We nicknamed the car Dotty (short for Dotty and an apt description of her personality), aka The Pumpkin, but it was no Cinderella ride. Or maybe it was, given that the shocks on the carriage she rode in were probably on par with Dotty's. Maybe a little bit better.

Dotty had a broken heater/AC, a broken radio, a broken up dashboard, and a speedometer that didn't work. Or at least, didn't work properly. You always knew you were in the 35-45 mph zone when it hovered between 10 and 20 on the speedometer, and you knew you were doing 65ish when the needle whipped back and forth between 10 and 120. And you pretty much never had to worry about going faster than that, because Dotty didn't really do over 65. The gear shift was pretty loose, and I think my little brother accidentally knocked it into reverse or neutral once when he was playing in the car (he was very little) and rolled it down the street into someone else's car. Minimal damage, but Dotty was that kind of car. 

I think I had a fender bender in Dotty once or twice, myself. It may have been Dotty that I was driving when I backed out of a parking space and into a car that I hadn't seen when I started pulling out (I swear, it wasn't there when I looked, I have no idea where it came from!) And I may have been driving Dotty when someone sideswiped me, denting the rear driver side door enough that it didn't open. If I remember right, the insurance company would have written it off, but the amount of money they would have given us wasn't enough to get a new car, so we just kept driving it and used the passenger side door. 

In the winter, you had to scrape the inside and outside of the windows every five minutes. The 1.5 mile drive to school took at least 3 stops to scrape windows, which makes me wonder if it was really that much better to drive. I guess it was somewhat faster, at least, so there were fewer minutes freezing my tush off, but not many. And the car was by no means warmer than I would have been walking. 

We would often drive around town with 8 or 9 people in that little 5-seater hatchback, and of course, the exciting place to ride was in the hatch part. At least, if you weren't a teenager who didn't really fit. It did get a little awkward when a policeman was a car or two away, though.

I don't remember how Dotty met her end, but she did. I hope, though, that she had a good life and didn't feel too picked on by us kids. While I don't ever want to own another Dotty, I do remember her fondly, and hope that my hypothetical kids look forward to having a Dotty of their own to drive someday, because everyone needs an Old Beater like Dotty in their history. 

What flavor is your lettuce?

Today, I pulled out my bag of lettuce and noticed that the bag told me the lettuce was "sweet and subtle." And crisp, which is texture not flavor, but it was on the bag. Anyway, I gotta confess, I never really thought lettuce had a flavor, except maybe Ranch or Vinaigrette. Sometimes it is bitter, but I always figured it wasn't supposed to be. Never, ever in a million years would I have described any lettuce as "sweet and subtle." Which made me wonder if there are 'lettuce tasters' wandering around describing the flavors of lettuce. "Watery, with a touch of dirt." "Bitter hinting of vengeance." (In which case, eater beware). At which point, I decided no one should spend that much time on a Sunday contemplating the nature of lettuce, and moved on to other things.

The way it works

You know how Gmail categorizes emails? Some of them get labeled as important, and I don't know what the other classifications are, because I switched my setup to having the filtered tabs and I don't think it does the labeling anymore. Huh. Go figure. Anyway...

How does Gmail know which emails are actually important enough to get that label? Algorithms based on key words, people the email was sent to, etc.? Nope. That's not it at all. The answer is much more interesting than that:

So that's how they know. Magic sauce. I think I need to get my hands on some of that. 

Offline

Today at work, we had this huge switch over to a new IT setup. The assurance leading up to the process was, "You'll be able to come in the next day, and you won't even notice the difference." Bless them, they tried their best, but, well, computers will be computers, which means they are going defenestrate your beautifully laid plans and do whatever they feel like doing.*

Anyway, the disruption didn't really bother me, because I have about 150 boxes of paper to go through, so I can keep busy without a computer. The funny thing is, my computer really did seem to transition quite smoothly. The tech guy came in to download programs, I wandered off to do other things, and when I came back it was ready to go. In fact it was unnerving how smoothly it went, because everyone else seemed to have one snag or another. (My boss actually had an error that they'd never seen before, and they've been transitioning thousands of computers. I feel like he should get a prize or something). The lack of hiccups made me seemed abnormally ominous. Anyway, the tech guys ended up spending half of their day fixing things. The best part is they get to come in and do it all over again with the other half of the building tomorrow. Better them than me.

Nope, I'm content to sit around with my boxes of paper, where the biggest technical problems are staples, excessive use of binder clips, and the occasional paper cut.

*This isn't really that surprising. I mean, they are made by people, and people aren't very great at perfect. The really mind-boggling thing is that we continue to think that this time will be different. And that we have basically turned our world over to them. All those sci-fi books about computers taking over the world? Yeah. Try history. It's already happened. 

Vroom Vroom

Today after church, I got in the car I rented and I just drove. I drove all over town, not worried about being on time for anything or being anywhere in particular or putting miles on the car or gas mileage. I drove just to drive. I really enjoy driving, which is probably unfortunate because I have a feeling I'm not the greatest driver (I am better without people in the car. When people are in the car with me, I feel like I need to play hostess and entertain them. Not something you should do while driving).

I thought about stopping at different places--the lake or the river, but I realized what I really wanted to do was just drive. Drive and drive and drive. I would have driven longer except I was running out of places to drive to. What I really wanted to do was leave town, but I figured I should probably go home and eat something. (Boring.)

The whole time, I thought about stuff. I thought about all the worries I've got, and I thought a lot about how I miss having a car and all the things I could do so much more easily if I had one. Like, go to a park, or go to see the lake or the river, or visit someone. I live in a place that has a decent bus system, but I have to add at least half an hour to any travel time (and that's only one way). Also, the bus doesn't go to a lot of places, so there are things I can't do unless I want to walk. A lot. Which means there's no time to do what I actually want to do. Also, buses mean you have to have a schedule. You have to be back at a certain time, so a relaxed outing isn't an option. It's a huge waste of time in one way or another and there isn't a lot of freedom.

So, today I just enjoyed having something to drive. And maybe sometime soon, I can plan a real trip with lots of driving to go somewhere more interesting. One can dream.

Random Facts about Me

Nicknames: I have been called Leesy, Leesypeesh, Mona-leesy, and the Cake Fairy. And I had a friend who would sing Elise Navidad every time he saw me.

Superpowers: befriending little kids. And apparently, making cakes.

Things I collect: movies with main characters named Elise, books, and money, maps and flags from places I travel to. 

Three words that describe me: Introvert, trouble, funny 

One place I want to go: Iceland.

Something I never expected to do: travel to Vanuatu (where I spent 4 days on an island with an active volcano). Or China. Or anywhere really. 

Accomplishment I'm really proud of: Master's degree, receiving honorable mention in a writing competition.

Favorite number: 35173

Favorite word: Defenestrate

Favorite story to tell about myself: the story of my appendectomy. Hilarious.

Unofficial Occupations: Shoulder Angel/Devil (yes, both); Conscience; Cool Aunt

Places I've been that I want to go back to: Australia and Puerto Rico

Best talent: being an audience member

Types of Podcasts I listen to: British podcasts; economics podcasts, history podcasts, church podcasts, and current events podcasts. 

Quirks: I tend to pick up the accent/speech patterns of books that I'm reading (or TV shows I watch, or podcasts I listen to.) I also tend to really get into movies when I'm watching alone, and I make faces that mirror the emotions of the characters. This is a bit embarrassing when I catch myself doing it. 

What I would do if I had a lot of money: lots of things, but one would be start a scholarship for normal, average people. 

Great Ideas

I have an aptitude* for coming up with really good ideas. 

For example, I have this great idea for a life broker service for the introverts in the world. There are certain skill sets I lack such as the ability to haggle over prices and know the right questions to ask when it comes to major purchases. So, why not have someone who will take care of it for you? We have it for real estate, why not for car buying, or computers, or other purchases? I would definitely think it worth my time to have someone else do all the research on cars, have them checked out, haggle over price, etc. Narrow it down to 2 or 3, and then I decide which one. Of course, I'd probably be too poor to afford this service, but I do think it would be great. 

My latest great idea is creating resumes using Badges/Achievements. Like what you get when you are playing games online. "You have earned the Ninja Fighter badge" or "You have unlocked the Snowball of Doom". So why not use the same concept on resumes? Instead of skills, we give ourselves badges. Instead of Work Experience or College Degrees, we have unlocked achievements. Resumes would be SO much more fun.

The problem with my great ideas is that I lack the aptitude for execution. I don't know how to turn them into reality. Assuming that they aren't already a real thing and that they are actually worth enacting. So, if you ever need an idea, I'm happy to sign up to help. But after that, you're on your own.

*Note the lack of adjectives describing this aptitude. I don't know how I compare with other people, and I imagine I don't have any more ideas than the next person. I may even have fewer. This is more a relative strength. So, I don't know if it is something I'm good at or not. 

A Special Ordinary

I've been thinking about my grandma lately. She's my mom's mom and she is just the kind of grandma I want to be when I grow up. If I ever get to be a grandma.

My grandma, GMC (that's how she signs her name in letters and stuff), is a spunky lady. She's dealing with Alzheimer's now, but she's still got spunk. And while she's still pretty healthy, she is in her 80s, so she can't do all the things she used to, but she's still the same at heart.

I remember when I was younger, she would come over and wrestle with my brothers. Not wrestling on the ground, but she'd still wrestle with them. She was always the one to throw the first cup of water at the family reunion, but she never got wet. And she still has a bit of mischief--not too long ago, my brother was bringing her up to Idaho (maybe a year or two ago), and at a rest stop, while he was inside, she made some snowballs. When he came back, she pelted him. Totally unexpected. (I think maybe I got a little bit of that mischief streak. Sometimes, it shows itself).

When I was in high school, I worked a part time job not too far from my grandma's house and I would sometimes stop by on the way home. It may seem strange that a teenager would want to go spend time at grandma's, but I loved to be there. I could talk to her without any interruptions, and she always had time for me. I would visit when I came home from college, too. I remember once her asking me if I thought she should redo her living room. I have this memory that someone else had suggested it. I opined that it didn't matter what anyone else thought, it was her living room. She did eventually make some changes, but I still remember that conversation. Maybe because she was asking for my thoughts and treated me like they mattered.

I don't have many specific memories of those visits, other than they happened, but I remember them and they really mattered in my life. I live a long way from Grandma now, and I don't see her very often, and with 50+ grandkids and Alzheimer's, she doesn't always remember me. But I still look up to her and I hope to be like her someday.

Not your typical tax problem

Seeing as tax season is almost upon us, I decided I should sit down and attempt to do my taxes this weekend. I figured I'd need 3, 4 hours or so, since taxes are supposed to be hugely onerous and time consuming, right? I mean, why else would we all hate them so much? (Oh, yeah, other than that whole money-that-I-don't-get-to-keep thing. But besides that, I mean, what's to hate?)

So, I got everything ready, sat down...

...and about 40 minutes later, I was done. Maybe not even 40 minutes. I wasn't keeping good track, but I know it wasn't more than an hour. And my first thought was, "Done!" Followed by, "Wait. That was waaaaaaaay too easy. That can't be right." At which point, I decided not to go on to my state taxes, because what's the point of getting them all wrong too?

Thing is, I'm pretty sure I didn't miss anything. I don't bother with itemizing or anything like that. I prefer to keep things simple, and I'm willing to let the government keep a few more dollars of my money to spare myself a headache. It's not money I had, so how bad can I miss it?

I also tend to work on the premise that maybe if I don't try to drag every penny out of the government that I can (thus avoiding that fun tug-o-war), then they will leave me alone. I don't make a stink for you, you don't make a stink for me. Fair's fair, right? Theoretically, it should work. But only if they got the memo.

Of course at this point, I can add an extra hour or two to my tax preparation time for the general unease I've felt, and then add the time I'll spend checking it again--say 30 minutes or so, and I'm up to what, 3, 4 hours? Which is about right. And then I have my state taxes, so yeah. The onerous part, not so much, but I'm definitely set for time consuming. Ish.

Getting things done

I always seem to forget how good it feels to be productive in my personal life. I think I am pretty productive at work, considering that the big overall projects can't be knocked out with any kind of quick turnaround.* I also have multiple projects going on at any given moment, but I do find that there are little milestones I achieve, which are rewarding. 

Anyway, I always seem to forget how nice it is to check things off my personal to do list. My brain has this mentality of, "I've worked all day long and had to be focused on the job. Now I just want to ooze."** So I don't ever get anything done. 

I also have this problem where I'm so worried and stressed so often, that I spend a lot of time feeling worried and stressed. You may not realize it, but it takes a LOT of effort and time to be worried and stressed. So, I feel like I'm super busy and don't have time to get things done, only to realize that I am busy worrying and stressing. Which is completely non-productive, exhausting, and not good for any kind of health. 

But today (once I finally got going***) I actually got quite a bit done. I didn't move mountains or anything, but I felt like I accomplished something. And it was a good feeling. 

The thing is, I always know that it's going to feel good to be busy and to do things. But I don't seem to do anything about it. Like, do things. And I'm not quite sure what to do about it. I used to be good about keeping a to do list on my iPod. It was great, because I got to tick things off (why is that so satisfying?!). Then, somehow, I fell off the wagon on that--maybe it was having the Kindle, maybe it was just me dropping the ball. But I've never really gotten back on track. But I really liked accomplishing something with my day. I like how it felt. I hope I figure out a solution that works for me, because I could use that feel-goodness in my life. 

*You try sorting through 250 boxes of material from more than a dozen different people from the last 40 years. It isn't quick. 

**If your brain tries to tell you this, ignore it. Brains do not always know what is good for them. 

*** I think the software for the 3.4 release is a bit buggy, because the boot up is really sluggish.

They're back...

I know I have complained about how cold the weather has been (come on, let's be honest, who hasn't? Besides maybe penguins and polar bears. And snowmen). And I really am tired of the cold. And not being able to walk on the sidewalks. And curling my toes in my boots as though that might gain me some traction. And having my nose running every time I step outside. And requiring 5 layers at all times. And dirty, nasty grey-black snow.

However, I have discovered one wonderful thing about winter: No Geese.

I hadn't even registered they were gone, not consciously, until a couple of days ago I heard the honk of doom outside my apartment. And suddenly, I realized what a tremendous boon the snow had been: No geese! Now psychopathic hissing gangster birds marking out their territory with massive amounts of goose poop everywhere you try to step. No hordes of territorial fowl hogging the sidewalk. No goose poop. No obnoxious honking all day long. No goose poop! (If anyone is trying to start a fowl fertilizer business, I know where you can get some product cheap).

And now, the blissful reprieve is over. They are back. The sidewalks are barely clear of ice and they are going to start filling up with manure. So I say we fight back, and deport those stupid geese back to where they came from. Which is presumably Canada. Anyone else with me? Eh?

Wish List

sunshine
a really good peach
self-control
energy
an administrative assistant for my life
Cafe Rio or Jamba juice
people to get along
a trip to a zoo
a reset button
a hug
rain boots for puddle hopping
puddles to hop in

February recap

Cold. 

More cold. 

And a little more cold. 

Tired. 

More tired. 

And a little more tired. 

There was the computer fiasco. 

And protests, riots, disgruntlement. 

(I shouldn't read the news). 

The arrival of number 19. 

A few Ticket to Ride games. 

Some sparks of color in the very dreary dead of winter. 

Dead of winter has new meaning. 

Thank goodness February is over. 

I think tomorrow I'll celebrate. 

This week in review

One thing I learned:
I did learn things this week, of varying interest to an outside audience, but many of those things are restricted information, so I can't tell you what they are. Sorry. It's an archival thing. It happens.

One thing I read:
"Adjustment Team" by Philip K. Dick.

One thing that made me laugh:
The conversation at work about some very scandalous letters. Yes, folks, raunchy language did exist in the 1930s. (The conversation was not raunchy, but the letters were apparently quite salacious).

One thing that was very frustrating:
Resolving computer issues. I finally decided I'd made enough of an effort and bought a new laptop.

Cool thing I saw:
well, a friend posted some really awesome pictures on his blog, but I also really enjoyed this one.

Something new that I watched:
I finally got around to seeing Lincoln. It was very good. I watched Somewhere in Time, which is not really Oscar material, but we were introduced to the world in the same year, Jane Seymour's character shares my first name, and we both have connections to Mackinac Island. So, how could I not watch it?

One thing that made me happy:
Skyping with my nieces and nephews. I was brought up to date on my 4-almost-5 year old niece's love interests, and got the low down on angry birds from my 4-almost-5 year old nephew. Saw my new baby niece, number 19, and the other adorable nephews. I think I will give them all numbers from now on.

One new thing that I did/tried this week:
I tried a new pumpkin bread recipe and I used my food processor to shred cheese for the first time.

One unexpected surprise of the week:
I really kind of enjoyed not being so connected. Not that I liked not having internet access, but I did like being offline more than I usually am. I'm going to experiment this coming week by trying to cut back on how much online time I am.

One thing I hope to do differently in the coming week:
More sleep, more reading.

Top Reasons Why I Should Never Become a Bobsledder

1. My head functions better in one piece, and given my lack of coordination, it probably wouldn't stay in one piece for long.
2. I've never been up for roller coasters.
3. Yes. Ice. I get plenty of it without bobsledding.
4. My real talent is in spectating.
5. No cool Jamaican accent anywhere in this girl.
6. I don't think I'd look that good in spandex.

Maybe a bit magical

I usually think of February as that gray-brown-black dirty snow time of year. Admittedly, this is not a very positive way of thinking of a month. January is crisp and cold and white--clean snow. But February is just drudgy snow that has been trampled and driven through and fumed on by exhaust pipes. I don't have any bad experiences connected with February, and it isn't even like it drags on and on--it's the shortest month of the year, people. It just has that weird mental image in my head. (That and red hearts, which I also don't have any personal experience connecting hearts to February. So, again, no personal bias, just a bizarre mental picture).

Anyway, the other day, I had to step out into the frigid February air, and I noticed this:

"Um, yeah. It's snow. It's February. It snows in February where you live," you say. True, but look closer. 

It's all sparkly! Seriously, all sorts of poetic comparisons popped into my head, and I felt like a 7 year old who thinks she's stumbled into a diamond field. It was kind of exciting. And not dull gray brown yuck! This is how February should be thought of, if only because people would feel happier. 

There is probably some neat little life lesson there, but I'm just going to leave you with fun sparkly snow. Enjoy. 

The only identity that matters

So, I kind of mentioned this topic before, and this is not the post that I'd anticipated writing, but it is the one that needs to be written. There are a lot of different ways that we label/categorize/identify ourselves, or people in general. And I don't intend for label to be a bad thing here. Labels can be bad, but they also help us organize and understand information, which is the general idea here.

Alright, what labels are there? How do we identify people? Ready? Go:
race/ethnicity
religion
profession
nationality
statehood
locality
hobbies
gender
sexual orientation
looks
dress
economic status
social status
educational level
political affiliation
ancestry
extracurricular activities
personalities
age
family (surname)
marital status

And that isn't even all of them, I'm sure. That is a lot of ways to be sliced, diced, and ordered. Given how much time we spend dividing ourselves up, it's no wonder everyone has such a hard time getting along! And as I've thought about all of these different labels, I've been challenged to think about how I label myself, and I want to tell you about the only identity that matters to me, the only one that I need.

I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (People call us Mormons, but being a Mormon isn't necessarily the same thing as being a member of the Church, as being a Latter-day Saint. Which may sound confusing, but it is the difference between the culture of an organization and the actual organization itself, if that makes sense). And being a member of this Church tells me everything about who I am, who I want to be, and who I can become. My faith tells me everything I need to know about everyone else, and how I should treat them. The Gospel of Jesus Christ, when understood, has the solution to every social and personal problem that exists. It is the only organization I know of that really does offer the same promise to everyone, regardless of any other label they have. Don't get me wrong--the people in it aren't perfect, and sometimes things don't go the way they should. Imperfection is a preexisting condition of mortality. But the Church and the doctrine are perfect and beautiful and simple, and all the things that divide us vanish because everyone is there for the same thing--to learn about Christ and Heavenly Father and how to be better people, to help others, and to be happy.

But most importantly, being a member of this Church teaches me about the most important label that any of us have, which is a son or daughter of God. That is the only label that matters. Everything else is pretty unimportant in comparison.

So feel free to leave me out of the divvying up process, because I already have my label picked out. Other labels need not apply.

Polar Vortex: The Sequel

Some sequels just shouldn't be made.

Any time the Arctic wants its weather back, I'm happy to oblige. Anyone else want to go in on shipping?

True Beauty

When I grow up, I want to be a beautiful old person. One that has wrinkles and gray hair and has let nature take it's course. Because nature is going to do that anyway. Old people are some of the most beautiful people on the planet. They really are. So much more beautiful than the old people who are still trying to look young. There is something clean and wholesome about a person who has just let age happen. That's what aging gracefully is. And, yes, there are aches, and pains, and things don't work they way they used to, but why should they? Besides, I figure I will have lived a life to earn every wrinkle and gray hair, so why be ashamed of them? Nope. I'm going to be a beautiful old lady.

Frozen

I think there was some confusion when memos were being delivered for this week's weather. Somehow, my neighborhood got confused with the North Pole. Unfortunately, I'm getting the Arctic weather without the fun of Santa's workshop. Which should be against the rules. At any rate, the weather is definitely having a tantrum. It's the kind of weather that is perfect for curling up in a blanket and reading a book. Best enjoyed from inside.

Anyway, in tribute to the raging storm, I leave you with this:

Frozen

Books and covers and that sort of thing

So there has been this thread on Twitter (which I don't follow but know about, though I don't have any idea what people are actually saying on it) where people are sharing their experience being a certain minority somewhere. I am not a minority, and most of the time I feel like I don't even get to claim any kind of cultural heritage (despite having English, Irish, Scottish, German, and Danish ancestors. Just because they are European, I don't get to be proud of them, or acknowledge my unique heritage?! What is up with that? Come on, fair's fair. Equality, right?) So I've been thinking what I would say about being me (white, single, American, Christian, straight, etc.) but that seemed kind of heavy, so today, some myth-busting about me. To keep it light.

I grew up in Idaho. 

Myth: I lived on a potato farm. 

Truth: I have never even seen a potato farm, that I recall. (Note the disclaimer.) My grandpa grew potatoes in his garden, but the only experience I have had with Idaho potatoes has been buying them at the store. That I am aware of.

Second myth/truth: Idaho and Iowa are 2 different places. Really. 

I am shy.

Myth: I must be boring, or at least uninteresting.

Truth: I have been told I'm quite funny. And people seem to enjoy having conversations with me. Maybe they are just being nice.

I'm an archivist.

Myth: I live in the past and can be found doddering around dusty old bookshelves.

Truth: The past does inform my present (not the same as living in the past, friends). And I do get dusty and dirty. But most of the materials I work with are younger than me. Not always, but mostly. (Although most of the fun stuff is older than that. And I did once find a letter written on the day I was born. Kind of cool). Nope, my job is actually pretty current. And awesome.

I'm 'thin' or 'slender' or 'skinny' or whatever
Myth: I must be a very healthy and fit person.
Truth: Balance and diet should probably find themselves in one another's company in my vocabulary much more often.

I'm pretty ordinary. Ish.
Myth: Ordinary is a bad thing to be.
Truth: Have you ever noticed how amazing ordinary people are? Who are the people who go into burning buildings and help the little old ladies and make the world actually function? The ordinary people. Ordinary is fantastic. It means you aren't a politician, a dictator, a drug-addict celebrity, or Justin Bieber. Thank you for ordinary.

I am an adult.

Myth: I know what I'm doing.

Truth: HA!

Well, that's all for Truth and Myth today. I hope you feel enlightened!

This post brought to you by:
Dust
Chocolate
Sophomore English, where we studied a bit of mythology
George Lucas, who created a mythology
J. R. R. Tolkien, who created a better mythology
The Vikings
Potatoes
Geography
and the number 7

...but not Bieber. Never him.