They let me do it. I know my mother had some qualms about giving up the reigns on hosting Thanksgiving. But she let me do it. And even seemed happy that she got the day off. So much so that she told her ridiculously hot Dr. about getting the day off. But I just wanted to put this out there that my family let me do it.
I will also take this opportunity to relieve any fears that you might have. All of the family members that attended Thanksgiving dinner at my house are still alive and well. No food poisoning. No grave injuries.
And most importantly...no firefighters were called to my house.
I have a house now...obviously. So of course, since I have my own house now, I can entertain. So I actually asked to host Thanksgiving this year. I had a few people over for Easter this year, and it went great. So of course, Thanksgiving would go off equally as perfectly.
I mean, it had to go off perfectly. I had a menu. And a plan. Being the good, neurotic little triathlete that I am, I even had a schedule. A schedule that I dared to include taking a run on. I mean, the past few years I've taken a lovely Thanksgiving morning run. Why would hosting preclude me from taking a run?
So perfection was my expectation.
But what did I get?
Less than perfection.
The morning started off great. Actually...let's look back to a few days before Thanksgiving. A week before, I went to the grocery store, and bought the blessed turkey. And promptly dropped it off at my parents house. Hey, they had room in their refrigerator, and they have the brining bucket (yes, there is a specific bucket that was purchased solely for the use of brining a turkey). So my thanksgiving turkey was staying with my parents for a few days. Then a couple of days before, dad and I had the most important discussion of the week: what to brine the turkey in. We decided on salt, lemon, garlic, rosemary, and maybe some other stuff. So the dad took care of that, and on Thanksgiving morning, he made an early morning trip to my house to help get the bird in the oven.
So the bird got in the oven on my brand new roasting rack. Stuffed with lemons, garlic, rosemary, and onions. And it immediately started smelling awesome.
Except, almost equally as immediately, we started to hear something popping. And we realized that the bottom of the pan was roasting already. So I needed to add some water to the bottom of the pan. And as soon as I opened the door of my fabulous, retro oven, the smoke alarm (which I have ALWAYS stated is hung far too close to the kitchen) goes off.
I beat the smoke alarm until it stops beeping.
And the dad leaves.
So I start working on putting together some of the other side dishes. Quinoa salad. Cranberry sauce.
And funny we should start talking about this now...because while the dad was at my house that morning, he inquired about whether I had a sufficient number of pots and pans to handle the days menu. I figured I had plenty because I had pretty much figured out what I needed to make, and even if I had to do dishes, I still had plenty of stuff to cook in.
What we didn't really talk about was the size of said pots and pans.
Enter: the biggest problem of the day.
I like cranberry sauce. Homemade cranberry sauce to be exact. I have never made it before, but the recipe is so simple, there was no possible way I could screw it up.
Except, I wanted to make a lot of it. So I put the two bags of cranberry's in my largest sauce pan. I add the other ingredients. And I continue to put the stuff together for my other salad.
And I checked on the turkey again...by opening the door to the oven. And once again set off the smoke detector. I contemplated taking out the battery.
I did not leave the kitchen.
But I was busy. So when the cranberry's started to boil, I didn't exactly have my eyes on the stove. And it boiled over. Which, if caught soon enough isn't a problem.
I didn't catch it soon enough.
And the next thing I know there are flames shooting out of the burner. And I'm standing there with my jaw on the floor, incapable of moving for a few moments. And I'm not really sure why, but the first thing I did was grab my phone and call my father. Who, at best, was 10 minutes away. But I thought he could provide some moral support, and maybe a tip for how to get the freaking fire to go out.
Turns out, I didn't need it. (Except the whole moral support thing)
Why?
1) I am smart enough to know NOT to douse the fire with water.
2) The fire didn't actually burn that long, and ended up burning itself out before further action was required.
Whew.
But as a result of the ridiculously small fire, nearly every smoke detector in the house was going off. So I start with the one closest to the kitchen, and rip the battery out. Then I move on to the living room, rip that battery out, and move on to the hallway. The one in the hallway is on the ceiling. And I may be tall, but I ain't that tall. So I got the step stool out of the hall closet. And smash my finger as I open it. But I succeeded in getting the battery out.
Silence.
Whew.
So I head back to the kitchen to survey the damage. I look at what's left of the cranberry sauce and deem it salvageable. But not in the pot that it is currently in. And certainly not on the burner it was previously on. So the only pot I had that was larger than the sauce pot was my large stock pot. It was easily twice as large as what was needed...but I figured the chance that it would spill over would be minimal. And it worked.
It wasn't until the cranberry sauce was actually cooked, and the boyfriend called me to make sure I hadn't actually singed off my eyebrows that I was finally able to laugh at what had happened.
Because if you can't laugh at that...Houston, we have a problem.
So the rest of the day pretty much went like this:
Appetizers were set out without incident and enjoyed by all.
I did not get to run.
Dinner was served on my Grandmother's dining table, and enjoyed by all.
My mother enjoyed said dinner so much that she immediately needed to take a nap. While still sitting at the table.
The cranberry sauce tasted freaking amazing.
Desserts were served. The total number of dessert types did not out number the total number of attendees. But it came close.
Football was watched.
Family time was enjoyed.
We discussed the very real possibility that my grandmother is still haunting my house. If the burnt toast (grandma loved burnt toast) that I ate on the first morning in my house wasn't a good enough indicator...I'm pretty sure a recurring fire (set from the same burner, I believe) is. Grandma, at some point when she was still cooking, but shortly before her cooking rights were revoked, set fire to something on the stove, and a new backsplash was required at the end of that fire.
And at the end of the day, I passed out.
But, was I able to pass out that day thankful? Absolutely. As always, I'm thankful that I have a house that I could host Thanksgiving dinner in. I am thankful that I have a wonderful, yet small, family that I could share the day with. I am thankful for a guardian angel sitting on my shoulder who kept the fire from getting larger, and more out of control.
And most of all...I'm thankful that my family is crazy enough to let me try it all again at Christmas.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Busy Season by the Numbers
Ok, I realize that I'm a little late in posting this...but post busy season I've been doing a bit of...well...nothing.
Yes, I have been doing "stuff." But there has also been several days of lounging about in comfy pants reading and/or watching TV.
After spending 13 weeks on the road...I think it's allowed. So...what was I doing while I was on the road? Accumulating the following numbers:
Total number of days I was scheduled to deliver: 37
Total number of days I actually delivered: 36
States Visited:
Oklahoma
Minnesota (5 times)
Chicago-land (twice)
New Mexico
Indiana
Wisconsin
Colorado
Illinois (twice)
Ohio (twice)
New York
New Jersey (3 times)
Ok, so if you just added that up, you'll see that that's a total of 20 trips. In 13 weeks. Meaning there were 6 weeks where I visited at least 2 states. And one glorious week when I visited 3 states.
More numbers time:
Nights spent in a hotel: 34
This number was fortunately minimized by the fact that I often got home in the middle of the night (11pm or later) just so I could spend the night in my own bed instead of spending the night in a hotel and waking up early.
Airline Miles:
Delta: 8427
United: 3488
US Airways: 1106
American Airlines: 1380
Southwest: 2328
For a grand total of 16,729. I assure you, it feels like I have flown a million miles, easily. But looking at the numbers, it doesn't seem like all that much.
Driving...fortunately, there were several trips that were together, so in the 13 weeks I traveled, I only made 12 trips back and forth to the airport...for a total of 2477 miles back and forth between home, and the airport.
And of course, there were a few sessions that I drove to, because it was just cheaper, and faster to drive back and forth...so that added up to 2540 miles...ish. And that doesn't even count the miles I put on rental cars once I got to where I was going. Which is probably another thousand or so miles right there...if not more.
Again, it seemed like a lot more miles than that.
So now that I've put the numbers to it, it doesn't look so big and bad. But I'm still glad that those 13 weeks are behind me.
What the numbers, the black and white-ness of the numbers, what they don't tell you is that what it's actually like to live those numbers. The countless hours of driving, in my car, in rental cars, in hotel rooms, eating take out or room service. What amazes me is that when I tell people what I do for a living, and they hear that I travel, many people think that it's so glamorous to travel. And that it would be so much fun to do so.
Well...I don't mind travel. I even kind of like it sometimes. I occasionally get to go places that are nice to visit. But by and large, traveling isn't glamorous. It's dirty and lonely. But hey, while I'm talking about being dirty...I am happy to announce that my neurosis about washing my hands kept me from getting my typical busy season/hell week cold. Well...at least it wasn't as bad as it has been in years past. But stepping back to the topic at hand...traveling...for work...not so fun.
What I will take this opportunity to say is that I still love my job. Yes, I am incredibly happy that I have had a break. But I do still love what I do.
And that's what really matters.
Yes, I have been doing "stuff." But there has also been several days of lounging about in comfy pants reading and/or watching TV.
After spending 13 weeks on the road...I think it's allowed. So...what was I doing while I was on the road? Accumulating the following numbers:
Total number of days I was scheduled to deliver: 37
Total number of days I actually delivered: 36
States Visited:
Oklahoma
Minnesota (5 times)
Chicago-land (twice)
New Mexico
Indiana
Wisconsin
Colorado
Illinois (twice)
Ohio (twice)
New York
New Jersey (3 times)
Ok, so if you just added that up, you'll see that that's a total of 20 trips. In 13 weeks. Meaning there were 6 weeks where I visited at least 2 states. And one glorious week when I visited 3 states.
More numbers time:
Nights spent in a hotel: 34
This number was fortunately minimized by the fact that I often got home in the middle of the night (11pm or later) just so I could spend the night in my own bed instead of spending the night in a hotel and waking up early.
Airline Miles:
Delta: 8427
United: 3488
US Airways: 1106
American Airlines: 1380
Southwest: 2328
For a grand total of 16,729. I assure you, it feels like I have flown a million miles, easily. But looking at the numbers, it doesn't seem like all that much.
Driving...fortunately, there were several trips that were together, so in the 13 weeks I traveled, I only made 12 trips back and forth to the airport...for a total of 2477 miles back and forth between home, and the airport.
And of course, there were a few sessions that I drove to, because it was just cheaper, and faster to drive back and forth...so that added up to 2540 miles...ish. And that doesn't even count the miles I put on rental cars once I got to where I was going. Which is probably another thousand or so miles right there...if not more.
Again, it seemed like a lot more miles than that.
So now that I've put the numbers to it, it doesn't look so big and bad. But I'm still glad that those 13 weeks are behind me.
What the numbers, the black and white-ness of the numbers, what they don't tell you is that what it's actually like to live those numbers. The countless hours of driving, in my car, in rental cars, in hotel rooms, eating take out or room service. What amazes me is that when I tell people what I do for a living, and they hear that I travel, many people think that it's so glamorous to travel. And that it would be so much fun to do so.
Well...I don't mind travel. I even kind of like it sometimes. I occasionally get to go places that are nice to visit. But by and large, traveling isn't glamorous. It's dirty and lonely. But hey, while I'm talking about being dirty...I am happy to announce that my neurosis about washing my hands kept me from getting my typical busy season/hell week cold. Well...at least it wasn't as bad as it has been in years past. But stepping back to the topic at hand...traveling...for work...not so fun.
What I will take this opportunity to say is that I still love my job. Yes, I am incredibly happy that I have had a break. But I do still love what I do.
And that's what really matters.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Busy Season Grumbly's
Hi, my name is Johanna. And I'm cranky.
It's been a rough couple of weeks. Just at the exact moment where I thought I would be done for a while, work picks back up. And it's been making me a little cranky. I've lost a lot of that positive attitude that I had a couple of months ago when I was making TSA agents freak out because I was simply smiling at them. I'm trying to still smile, and be polite. But I can tell it's just not the same.
I am drained. Mentally, physically and emotionally. I. Am. Done.
Except, I have 3 more weeks of travel to go.
3 more weeks to go by choice. I'm at the point where I've reached my goal of how many days I want to deliver...but I'm having a hard time turning down the money when the opportunity is presented to me. And really...what's a couple of more days in Newark?
I honestly am grateful for the opportunity to work. I'm happy to be making money.
But at the same time, I really want a break. I want to be able to do more than laundry and mow the lawn when I'm at home.
I want to do more than collapse on my hotel bed after a day of work. Seriously...this performing monkey thing...not so easy. My legs are sore all the time, my back is killing me. And yes, I realize I'm complaining here. But I miss having the energy to run after a day of work. Or being able to get up early and run. But for right now, I'm spent.
It probably doesn't help that it's my birthday week...and I'm spending my birthday week in Newark. Not that my birthday week is easy for me anyway. But it just doesn't help when I'm in a place I hate. And yes, no matter how much I try...I still hate this place.
I've been thinking about writing a post of "busy season by the numbers" just to see where I've been, how many miles I've traveled, etc. Be on the lookout for that.
But for now...I am where I am. I'm doing what I'm doing. I'm trying to make it one step at a time. One day at a time. Sometimes, one minute at a time.
So, if you miss happy, perky, positive Johanna...1st, know that I do too. And 2nd, come back in November. Hopefully, she'll have returned by then.
It's been a rough couple of weeks. Just at the exact moment where I thought I would be done for a while, work picks back up. And it's been making me a little cranky. I've lost a lot of that positive attitude that I had a couple of months ago when I was making TSA agents freak out because I was simply smiling at them. I'm trying to still smile, and be polite. But I can tell it's just not the same.
I am drained. Mentally, physically and emotionally. I. Am. Done.
Except, I have 3 more weeks of travel to go.
3 more weeks to go by choice. I'm at the point where I've reached my goal of how many days I want to deliver...but I'm having a hard time turning down the money when the opportunity is presented to me. And really...what's a couple of more days in Newark?
I honestly am grateful for the opportunity to work. I'm happy to be making money.
But at the same time, I really want a break. I want to be able to do more than laundry and mow the lawn when I'm at home.
I want to do more than collapse on my hotel bed after a day of work. Seriously...this performing monkey thing...not so easy. My legs are sore all the time, my back is killing me. And yes, I realize I'm complaining here. But I miss having the energy to run after a day of work. Or being able to get up early and run. But for right now, I'm spent.
It probably doesn't help that it's my birthday week...and I'm spending my birthday week in Newark. Not that my birthday week is easy for me anyway. But it just doesn't help when I'm in a place I hate. And yes, no matter how much I try...I still hate this place.
I've been thinking about writing a post of "busy season by the numbers" just to see where I've been, how many miles I've traveled, etc. Be on the lookout for that.
But for now...I am where I am. I'm doing what I'm doing. I'm trying to make it one step at a time. One day at a time. Sometimes, one minute at a time.
So, if you miss happy, perky, positive Johanna...1st, know that I do too. And 2nd, come back in November. Hopefully, she'll have returned by then.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
On The Road Still...
Blessed are the flexible because they will bend, but never break.
This quote has been running through my mind a lot lately. I really like the idea of making plans...and there are times in my life...where I really try hard to make plans. Except...those plans normally end up falling through because, well, life happens.
So, the plan was that this trip was originally the last one I had scheduled...at least for a little while. What great timing. Next week is my birthday, so I scheduled a well deserved day of pampering...because I'm all about the being girly. Ok...I could barely type that with a straight face. But I really do enjoy stuff like getting a mani/pedi/haircut. It's relaxing. I deserve a chance to relax.
Except, life happened.
And I got more work.
Which is awesome. I love getting more work. It keeps me busy, and it makes me money. And I love my job.
But then I kept getting more work. Which is even more awesome.
Except, I then had to reschedule said hair appointment 3 times.
But it's ok...because it's finally happening. And I can start to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Instead of visiting multiple states in one week, and being gone all week long, it looks like after next week things are going to start slowing down. Sort of. Except for the week that I have to go to Newark for a day, take a late flight home, and then do two more days in East St. Louis. Ok, so maybe life isn't slowing down just yet.
I'm definitely looking forward to normal life resuming. Because you know what happens when you travel a lot?
Dates consist of watching the Packers on Monday Night Football "together." And by "together" I really mean I was in NYC, and the boyfriend was in IL. And we sent text messages back and forth, and talked on the phone over half time.
I'm really grateful he's been so understanding and supportive of the travel thing. But to say the least, I'm ready for date night to actually take place while we're in the same room.
So...with all due respect to Willie...I'm changing the lyrics to On The Road Still. Just so happy to be on the road...still. And if you need me...I'll probably be in some random hotel room...in some state that I probably couldn't mention off the top of my head...and forget to ask what time zone I'm in, because I don't ever know.
This quote has been running through my mind a lot lately. I really like the idea of making plans...and there are times in my life...where I really try hard to make plans. Except...those plans normally end up falling through because, well, life happens.
So, the plan was that this trip was originally the last one I had scheduled...at least for a little while. What great timing. Next week is my birthday, so I scheduled a well deserved day of pampering...because I'm all about the being girly. Ok...I could barely type that with a straight face. But I really do enjoy stuff like getting a mani/pedi/haircut. It's relaxing. I deserve a chance to relax.
Except, life happened.
And I got more work.
Which is awesome. I love getting more work. It keeps me busy, and it makes me money. And I love my job.
But then I kept getting more work. Which is even more awesome.
Except, I then had to reschedule said hair appointment 3 times.
But it's ok...because it's finally happening. And I can start to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Instead of visiting multiple states in one week, and being gone all week long, it looks like after next week things are going to start slowing down. Sort of. Except for the week that I have to go to Newark for a day, take a late flight home, and then do two more days in East St. Louis. Ok, so maybe life isn't slowing down just yet.
I'm definitely looking forward to normal life resuming. Because you know what happens when you travel a lot?
Dates consist of watching the Packers on Monday Night Football "together." And by "together" I really mean I was in NYC, and the boyfriend was in IL. And we sent text messages back and forth, and talked on the phone over half time.
I'm really grateful he's been so understanding and supportive of the travel thing. But to say the least, I'm ready for date night to actually take place while we're in the same room.
So...with all due respect to Willie...I'm changing the lyrics to On The Road Still. Just so happy to be on the road...still. And if you need me...I'll probably be in some random hotel room...in some state that I probably couldn't mention off the top of my head...and forget to ask what time zone I'm in, because I don't ever know.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
You know it's busy season when...
...you approach the dryer to fluff the clothes you left in there the day before. Only to realize that the dryer is, in fact, empty. And you never put the clean clothes in the dryer to begin with.
This has happened twice in the past couple of weeks.
Oops.
But other than that...life has been pretty good. Busy, but good. In the past two weeks I have been to..................5 or 6 states. At least one of them I visited twice. And I've done 9 days of training. Twice I got back to my house in the middle of the night, simply because I wanted to sleep in my own bed so badly, it was worth the drive home. And now, instead of leaving again tomorrow...I actually get a couple of more days off. Good, home made coffee will be drank. Books will be read. I might even go for a run or two. If my somewhat cold riddled lungs will allow it...that is.
I've been asked a lot since I moved back if I'm happy with the decision to move back...and also...how the job is going. I honestly had no idea how great it was going to be. I absolutely love it. Yes, I hate hotels, airports, and rental cars. And I look forward to the day (eventually) when I don't have to rely solely on this job for income or to survive. But it's been a wild, crazy, amazing journey. I feel incredibly blessed to have this opportunity. And to be surrounded by such amazing people while I'm doing it.
First of all, my life could not happen right now without my parents. My dad has been caretaker extraordinaire...the man makes sure my house is still in one piece, collects my mail, mows my lawn, makes sure my garden doesn't die, and then some. Beyond that...I can't tell you how many times over the past few weeks I've called or sent a text message to my parents asking them to buy groceries and deliver them to my house. And then I'll just invite myself over for dinner while I'm home too.
Yeah...they're pretty amazing people. And I love them a lot.
Believe me, I look forward to the day that I spend enough time at home that it's worth actually grocery shopping myself (let alone having the time to do so) but it's nice having them so close and so willing to take care of me. Parents...their job never ends.
But other than my parents...I'm just feeling overly blessed right at the moment. Things have been going well. Yes, I'm sick, and tired. But it could be worse. Yes, I've lost a lot of sleep, and my back is killing me from carrying my computer everywhere, and sleeping in bad hotel beds. But for some reason...I'm actually really...happy right now. I'm just reminded every day that no matter where I am, the sun will rise, my friends will still be my friends (and they're all pretty amazing too) and that frustrations are ever present. Life is never going to be easy. But I also know that everything happens for a reason. I have the option of how I approach things...and the ridiculous, over the top positivity has definitely been working. Everything that I've been through in the past has made me, not only a stronger person, but also has been building to something. I can't exactly tell you what that something is. But big things are in the future. And everything I'm going through now, the good, the bad, and the tired...all shape the future. And I have to say...I'm excited.
This has happened twice in the past couple of weeks.
Oops.
But other than that...life has been pretty good. Busy, but good. In the past two weeks I have been to..................5 or 6 states. At least one of them I visited twice. And I've done 9 days of training. Twice I got back to my house in the middle of the night, simply because I wanted to sleep in my own bed so badly, it was worth the drive home. And now, instead of leaving again tomorrow...I actually get a couple of more days off. Good, home made coffee will be drank. Books will be read. I might even go for a run or two. If my somewhat cold riddled lungs will allow it...that is.
I've been asked a lot since I moved back if I'm happy with the decision to move back...and also...how the job is going. I honestly had no idea how great it was going to be. I absolutely love it. Yes, I hate hotels, airports, and rental cars. And I look forward to the day (eventually) when I don't have to rely solely on this job for income or to survive. But it's been a wild, crazy, amazing journey. I feel incredibly blessed to have this opportunity. And to be surrounded by such amazing people while I'm doing it.
First of all, my life could not happen right now without my parents. My dad has been caretaker extraordinaire...the man makes sure my house is still in one piece, collects my mail, mows my lawn, makes sure my garden doesn't die, and then some. Beyond that...I can't tell you how many times over the past few weeks I've called or sent a text message to my parents asking them to buy groceries and deliver them to my house. And then I'll just invite myself over for dinner while I'm home too.
Yeah...they're pretty amazing people. And I love them a lot.
Believe me, I look forward to the day that I spend enough time at home that it's worth actually grocery shopping myself (let alone having the time to do so) but it's nice having them so close and so willing to take care of me. Parents...their job never ends.
But other than my parents...I'm just feeling overly blessed right at the moment. Things have been going well. Yes, I'm sick, and tired. But it could be worse. Yes, I've lost a lot of sleep, and my back is killing me from carrying my computer everywhere, and sleeping in bad hotel beds. But for some reason...I'm actually really...happy right now. I'm just reminded every day that no matter where I am, the sun will rise, my friends will still be my friends (and they're all pretty amazing too) and that frustrations are ever present. Life is never going to be easy. But I also know that everything happens for a reason. I have the option of how I approach things...and the ridiculous, over the top positivity has definitely been working. Everything that I've been through in the past has made me, not only a stronger person, but also has been building to something. I can't exactly tell you what that something is. But big things are in the future. And everything I'm going through now, the good, the bad, and the tired...all shape the future. And I have to say...I'm excited.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Whahuhwahuh???
Yes, it's time for another technical terms post from Johanna...
It's time to take a little bit of a break from the travel chronicles...not that this past week was bad...and I might mention a few things about the trip...but there have been a few things happen in the past week that have made me stop and go whahuhwahuh?? But, I, well, huh???
This past week, the past was kind of shoved into my face...however, instead of a negative way, which has happened in so many ways the past few months, this was actually a pleasant occurrence. It took me back to a good memory. A really good memory, actually. A guy I knew a million years ago...kinda...sorta...came back into my life. In a very sideways type of way.
So...a man.
And it's actually a good story. Which is rare, in my history. So let me give you the back story.
A million years ago, before I knew how incredibly horrible one person could be to another, I was young and rather innocent. And I met a guy one night. And for a brief moment, there was an attraction...at least on my part. It stuck with me for years...that feeling. The look in his eyes. The feeling it gave me. And I never really understood why it stuck with me for so long. I mean, I hadn't seen him for years...and I'm quite sure he didn't feel the same thing...or even really remember me.
But I think...finally...14 years later...I'm starting to understand. Finally.
For so long, I thought it was him, specifically, that had given me that feeling. And I thought it was him that stuck with me. And I never understood why. I had seen him a few times after that initial meeting. But I never really got to know him. But those memories still stuck with me.
Until...
I get it. Now.
Innocence.
It wasn't him, specifically, that stuck with me. It was the feeling. I was an innocent kid when that happened. And it was the first time I had really felt any kind of attraction to a guy before. That feeling. I'm sure most everyone else has the same type of story. But I finally get it. It was just a good moment in history...a really good moment.
So that's one relief off my brain.
Ok, so I do get to talk a little bit about the traveling a little bit.
If you've ever seen license plates from New Mexico, you might notice they actually say "New Mexico USA."
I now know WHY the USA is tacked on to the end. Apparently, there are such redneck hick idiots in this country that don't actually recognize the difference between the state of New Mexico, and the Country of Mexico. Therefore, they add the USA on to the end of the state...just to make sure everyone knows they are part of the US. Wow.
So there's that.
And the positivity continues to run amuck in my world. This past week, I had the opportunity to work with two other trainer's. A rarity in my job.
The first was a great experience. It was with a trainer I've worked with more than any other...which isn't saying much. But nonetheless...he's fantastic. We went to dinner...and talked about his life and my life...and you know...other non work related stuff. With, unfortunately, a little work stuff thrown in a little too. Hey...we WERE there for work.
The other experience...however...was ok. Just...ok. The other trainer was nice. I give her that. But I quickly found she's the biggest Negative Nancy I've ever met in my entire life. Causing me to want to be even more perky and upbeat than ever. And it's still working out well for me.
On my flight back home last Friday, I stopped at a Rocky Mountain Chocolate store to pick up a few goodies for my caretakers/parents. And while I was in there, I started a conversation with another woman in the store...lovely woman. And our conversation actually leaned toward just being nice to people while traveling. And then...when the young boy finished buying a huge bag of chocolate...he wanted to return some...because he realized he didn't save enough to buy breakfast. The woman working at the store didn't really understand what he meant. So the other woman and I explained that they weren't going to let him return any of the chocolates. So I explained to the woman behind the counter and she gave him $5 for breakfast. And if she hadn't, I would have. You gotta take care of these kids.
I definitely enjoyed my weekend at home...a whopping 45 hours in total. I'm now in MN, until Tuesday evening, when I fly back to IN, and drive almost to OH, and train there for 2 days, and then Thursday evening I fly to Milwaukee, train there on Friday, and then fly home late, late, late on Friday. I should get home early on Saturday morning. Like...1am. I'm excited. Except for the fact that it's hell week. And I'm getting my hell week cold. Which is not exciting at all.
So I'm going to bed soon. Getting as much rest as I possibly can.
Goodnight for now...
It's time to take a little bit of a break from the travel chronicles...not that this past week was bad...and I might mention a few things about the trip...but there have been a few things happen in the past week that have made me stop and go whahuhwahuh?? But, I, well, huh???
This past week, the past was kind of shoved into my face...however, instead of a negative way, which has happened in so many ways the past few months, this was actually a pleasant occurrence. It took me back to a good memory. A really good memory, actually. A guy I knew a million years ago...kinda...sorta...came back into my life. In a very sideways type of way.
So...a man.
And it's actually a good story. Which is rare, in my history. So let me give you the back story.
A million years ago, before I knew how incredibly horrible one person could be to another, I was young and rather innocent. And I met a guy one night. And for a brief moment, there was an attraction...at least on my part. It stuck with me for years...that feeling. The look in his eyes. The feeling it gave me. And I never really understood why it stuck with me for so long. I mean, I hadn't seen him for years...and I'm quite sure he didn't feel the same thing...or even really remember me.
But I think...finally...14 years later...I'm starting to understand. Finally.
For so long, I thought it was him, specifically, that had given me that feeling. And I thought it was him that stuck with me. And I never understood why. I had seen him a few times after that initial meeting. But I never really got to know him. But those memories still stuck with me.
Until...
I get it. Now.
Innocence.
It wasn't him, specifically, that stuck with me. It was the feeling. I was an innocent kid when that happened. And it was the first time I had really felt any kind of attraction to a guy before. That feeling. I'm sure most everyone else has the same type of story. But I finally get it. It was just a good moment in history...a really good moment.
So that's one relief off my brain.
Ok, so I do get to talk a little bit about the traveling a little bit.
If you've ever seen license plates from New Mexico, you might notice they actually say "New Mexico USA."
I now know WHY the USA is tacked on to the end. Apparently, there are such redneck hick idiots in this country that don't actually recognize the difference between the state of New Mexico, and the Country of Mexico. Therefore, they add the USA on to the end of the state...just to make sure everyone knows they are part of the US. Wow.
So there's that.
And the positivity continues to run amuck in my world. This past week, I had the opportunity to work with two other trainer's. A rarity in my job.
The first was a great experience. It was with a trainer I've worked with more than any other...which isn't saying much. But nonetheless...he's fantastic. We went to dinner...and talked about his life and my life...and you know...other non work related stuff. With, unfortunately, a little work stuff thrown in a little too. Hey...we WERE there for work.
The other experience...however...was ok. Just...ok. The other trainer was nice. I give her that. But I quickly found she's the biggest Negative Nancy I've ever met in my entire life. Causing me to want to be even more perky and upbeat than ever. And it's still working out well for me.
On my flight back home last Friday, I stopped at a Rocky Mountain Chocolate store to pick up a few goodies for my caretakers/parents. And while I was in there, I started a conversation with another woman in the store...lovely woman. And our conversation actually leaned toward just being nice to people while traveling. And then...when the young boy finished buying a huge bag of chocolate...he wanted to return some...because he realized he didn't save enough to buy breakfast. The woman working at the store didn't really understand what he meant. So the other woman and I explained that they weren't going to let him return any of the chocolates. So I explained to the woman behind the counter and she gave him $5 for breakfast. And if she hadn't, I would have. You gotta take care of these kids.
I definitely enjoyed my weekend at home...a whopping 45 hours in total. I'm now in MN, until Tuesday evening, when I fly back to IN, and drive almost to OH, and train there for 2 days, and then Thursday evening I fly to Milwaukee, train there on Friday, and then fly home late, late, late on Friday. I should get home early on Saturday morning. Like...1am. I'm excited. Except for the fact that it's hell week. And I'm getting my hell week cold. Which is not exciting at all.
So I'm going to bed soon. Getting as much rest as I possibly can.
Goodnight for now...
Saturday, August 11, 2012
The Travel Chronicles: Minnesooooooooooooota, The First
Sometimes, it's just so damn easy...so easy to just be mad at the world, and take out any and all of your frustrations on the people around you.
This was me as I arrived at MSP Thursday evening. I had been awake since 4:45am. I had done my performing monkey thing for several hours (and day two is always more stressful because people who have no idea how to use computers are trying to learn how to use one...and I'm the one that has to teach them). Then I got to spend 2+ hours driving back to the airport. So by the time I got there, I was nearly brain dead. And I started to worry...because this is only week 2 of 9 of travel insanity.
So I drop off my rental car, and as usual, the Enterprise guy was a pleasure. And I head off to find the terminal. I get on the tram to go to Terminal 1, and when I got off, I thought for sure I was in the wrong place. So I get back on the tram and head to Terminal 2. Only to get there and find out I was really in the right place all along. So I get BACK on the tram to Terminal 1.
All the time, I'm carrying my 25 pound backpack on my back.
I have to say, for as lovely as MSP is to layover in, and also, for as lovely an experience it is to fly into (my bag was WAITING FOR ME when I got to baggage claim), it is an absolute nightmare to fly out of. There are a million people. And the line for security is ridiculous. And it's huge.
So I get in line to get through security, after just being reminded by the lovely woman who took my suitcase that I never spend any time at home this time of year (she WAS trying to be nice). And I'm waiting, waiting, waiting in line. And my back hurts because I've already lugged my backpack all over the universe (or so it would seem) and I'm tired, and I'm around a million people. And I'm still in dress clothes. So, naturally, I'm a little cranky.
As I was approaching the check in to get my ID and Boarding Pass cleared, I kept reminding myself that I am supposed to be a nice, pleasant passenger this month. Over the top nice and pleasant. And it's hard to do when you're cranky. But I still tried. I politely told the TSA agent thank you, and have a nice evening as he handed back my ID and Boarding Pass. So then I get to wait in line even more before I can get my body searched.
It's at this point my day starts to turn around, just a little bit. The TSA agent that was reminding everyone to take things out of their pockets was rather entertaining. But then, my purse gets pulled to be searched. And I had to wait, because someone else had to have their bag searched too. So finally, it's my turn. And the guy is actually very nice. He explains that everyone's bag who has something as simple as hand sanitizer (remember, I'm trying to ward off any illnesses this month) has to be searched. He sounds more annoyed by the situation than I do, so I take a liking to him. As he handed my purse back to me, I once again say "thank you, have a nice evening!" And I actually was cheery about it. Well, the look of utter shock, disbelief, horror...whatever you want to call it was totally worth the effort. I truly believe that he hadn't experienced anyone being so nice to him while searching a bag in a long time, if ever.
So then I head off to find my gate. And food. Food is a must. First, I wanted to find my gate, and figured surly, in MSP of all places, there would be decent food along the way. I just happened to be in the longest terminal imaginable...and the only food options were CIBO Express...which in some cases is great. But I needed a meal. Not a snack. 15 minutes later, I finally come to my gate, and it's at the very end...and it's crowded.
But there is a shining star here.
There is a passage to where I knew there was a food court. So I head that direction. And it's at this point I did something I never imagined I would ever do in an airport. I stood on one of the moving walkways and just let it take me. I never do this. I'm the person who walks along side the moving walkways, racing the people who are walking on the belt. And I nearly always beat them. It's one of my ways I try to keep active in airports. But I was so exhausted, I just couldn't do it.
So I find food. And I sit down. And realize that I forgot to pick up a napkin. Thinking that it would be ok to eat my Chinese food, with chopsticks, and no napkins would be ok because I could just wash up afterward was clearly misguided. But I was kinda stuck, because my behind was not about to move an inch for a little while. So I start eating, and almost immediately, my hands are a sticky mess. And I happened to notice that I was sitting between two, also alone, women. One of whom had already finished eating, but was just relaxing. And she had unused napkins all over her table. So I finally get up the nerve ask if I could have one. And you'll never guess what happened...
She, with the greatest care imaginable, picked up one napkin, and folded it. Then picked up another napkin, and folded it on top of the other. Then she politely presented them to me.
I almost started crying right there.
Maybe it was the fact that I was off my feet, and was no longer starving for food that helped. But this woman's kind, polite gesture of folding a napkin and giving it to me made my heart swell a couple of times. She could have just shoved them my way...but she didn't. And that really got to me.
Once I finally finished eating, and felt strong enough to move again (it was fortunate I ended up having extra time...because I kinda needed it) I decided to stroll through the book shop across from the food court. Not that I needed a book...but sometimes...I just like to look. And I struck up a conversation with one of the ladies working there about how many books we have, and what a pain it is to move them. By the way, if anyone complains about the quantity of books I own, should meet her. She said she owns over 7000 books. And she used to live in a 540 square foot apartment. Yeah...I'm not that bad.
Then it was back over to my gate. I had a chance to just sit. And read. A treat. And when I came out of the bathroom, as my flight was boarding...I asked a woman standing there was section they were loading. She wasn't sure. But we were both in Group 2. And we ended up chatting about a few random things. She's a 6th Grade Teacher, meeting her cousins for the weekend.
And then I get to my seat on the plane, and there is a guy sitting in my seat. I tell him he's in my seat, and he realizes he's supposed to be across the aisle. So he moves. Almost forgets his computer. I offer to break it for him, as he seemed rather displeased with how well it functioned. Or maybe it was the fact that he, too, was on a business trip and had to use it. So then I get to sit down, and meet my seat mate.
A little old lady.
I love little old ladies. This one especially.
She used to be a Preschool teacher...so she and I had a lot to talk about. I also felt sorry for her. She was traveling by herself, and MSP had only been her layover airport...and she had been there since 9:30am. Our flight to STL was at 7:14pm. And once she found her gate, she didn't leave all day long. She was afraid she would miss something concerning her flight, and so she just sat there all day long. I think she really just needed someone to talk to. And she was a lovely lady. I enjoyed getting to chat with her.
But I guess...back to my original statement. It is so damn easy sometimes to just be mean, and cranky, or to not take the time to smile, or just be nice to the people around us. It's so easy to be mean, and sometimes, so hard to be nice. But you never know how your actions are going to affect another person. It can be as simple as saying a polite thank you, and actually meaning it. Or a kind gesture to a stranger. A conversation with the person next to you. Whatever it might be. Yes, it's easier to be cranky, and focus on your own world. But where does that get you?
I've found over the past couple of weeks that being nice to people isn't always easy. But for as much good as it does for the people around me, it's done a lot for me too. This is the time of year that I worry about my own mental state. And no fooling, it's insane. But those simple, kind acts. They're so worth it. And they make life...better.
This was me as I arrived at MSP Thursday evening. I had been awake since 4:45am. I had done my performing monkey thing for several hours (and day two is always more stressful because people who have no idea how to use computers are trying to learn how to use one...and I'm the one that has to teach them). Then I got to spend 2+ hours driving back to the airport. So by the time I got there, I was nearly brain dead. And I started to worry...because this is only week 2 of 9 of travel insanity.
So I drop off my rental car, and as usual, the Enterprise guy was a pleasure. And I head off to find the terminal. I get on the tram to go to Terminal 1, and when I got off, I thought for sure I was in the wrong place. So I get back on the tram and head to Terminal 2. Only to get there and find out I was really in the right place all along. So I get BACK on the tram to Terminal 1.
All the time, I'm carrying my 25 pound backpack on my back.
I have to say, for as lovely as MSP is to layover in, and also, for as lovely an experience it is to fly into (my bag was WAITING FOR ME when I got to baggage claim), it is an absolute nightmare to fly out of. There are a million people. And the line for security is ridiculous. And it's huge.
So I get in line to get through security, after just being reminded by the lovely woman who took my suitcase that I never spend any time at home this time of year (she WAS trying to be nice). And I'm waiting, waiting, waiting in line. And my back hurts because I've already lugged my backpack all over the universe (or so it would seem) and I'm tired, and I'm around a million people. And I'm still in dress clothes. So, naturally, I'm a little cranky.
As I was approaching the check in to get my ID and Boarding Pass cleared, I kept reminding myself that I am supposed to be a nice, pleasant passenger this month. Over the top nice and pleasant. And it's hard to do when you're cranky. But I still tried. I politely told the TSA agent thank you, and have a nice evening as he handed back my ID and Boarding Pass. So then I get to wait in line even more before I can get my body searched.
It's at this point my day starts to turn around, just a little bit. The TSA agent that was reminding everyone to take things out of their pockets was rather entertaining. But then, my purse gets pulled to be searched. And I had to wait, because someone else had to have their bag searched too. So finally, it's my turn. And the guy is actually very nice. He explains that everyone's bag who has something as simple as hand sanitizer (remember, I'm trying to ward off any illnesses this month) has to be searched. He sounds more annoyed by the situation than I do, so I take a liking to him. As he handed my purse back to me, I once again say "thank you, have a nice evening!" And I actually was cheery about it. Well, the look of utter shock, disbelief, horror...whatever you want to call it was totally worth the effort. I truly believe that he hadn't experienced anyone being so nice to him while searching a bag in a long time, if ever.
So then I head off to find my gate. And food. Food is a must. First, I wanted to find my gate, and figured surly, in MSP of all places, there would be decent food along the way. I just happened to be in the longest terminal imaginable...and the only food options were CIBO Express...which in some cases is great. But I needed a meal. Not a snack. 15 minutes later, I finally come to my gate, and it's at the very end...and it's crowded.
But there is a shining star here.
There is a passage to where I knew there was a food court. So I head that direction. And it's at this point I did something I never imagined I would ever do in an airport. I stood on one of the moving walkways and just let it take me. I never do this. I'm the person who walks along side the moving walkways, racing the people who are walking on the belt. And I nearly always beat them. It's one of my ways I try to keep active in airports. But I was so exhausted, I just couldn't do it.
So I find food. And I sit down. And realize that I forgot to pick up a napkin. Thinking that it would be ok to eat my Chinese food, with chopsticks, and no napkins would be ok because I could just wash up afterward was clearly misguided. But I was kinda stuck, because my behind was not about to move an inch for a little while. So I start eating, and almost immediately, my hands are a sticky mess. And I happened to notice that I was sitting between two, also alone, women. One of whom had already finished eating, but was just relaxing. And she had unused napkins all over her table. So I finally get up the nerve ask if I could have one. And you'll never guess what happened...
She, with the greatest care imaginable, picked up one napkin, and folded it. Then picked up another napkin, and folded it on top of the other. Then she politely presented them to me.
I almost started crying right there.
Maybe it was the fact that I was off my feet, and was no longer starving for food that helped. But this woman's kind, polite gesture of folding a napkin and giving it to me made my heart swell a couple of times. She could have just shoved them my way...but she didn't. And that really got to me.
Once I finally finished eating, and felt strong enough to move again (it was fortunate I ended up having extra time...because I kinda needed it) I decided to stroll through the book shop across from the food court. Not that I needed a book...but sometimes...I just like to look. And I struck up a conversation with one of the ladies working there about how many books we have, and what a pain it is to move them. By the way, if anyone complains about the quantity of books I own, should meet her. She said she owns over 7000 books. And she used to live in a 540 square foot apartment. Yeah...I'm not that bad.
Then it was back over to my gate. I had a chance to just sit. And read. A treat. And when I came out of the bathroom, as my flight was boarding...I asked a woman standing there was section they were loading. She wasn't sure. But we were both in Group 2. And we ended up chatting about a few random things. She's a 6th Grade Teacher, meeting her cousins for the weekend.
And then I get to my seat on the plane, and there is a guy sitting in my seat. I tell him he's in my seat, and he realizes he's supposed to be across the aisle. So he moves. Almost forgets his computer. I offer to break it for him, as he seemed rather displeased with how well it functioned. Or maybe it was the fact that he, too, was on a business trip and had to use it. So then I get to sit down, and meet my seat mate.
A little old lady.
I love little old ladies. This one especially.
She used to be a Preschool teacher...so she and I had a lot to talk about. I also felt sorry for her. She was traveling by herself, and MSP had only been her layover airport...and she had been there since 9:30am. Our flight to STL was at 7:14pm. And once she found her gate, she didn't leave all day long. She was afraid she would miss something concerning her flight, and so she just sat there all day long. I think she really just needed someone to talk to. And she was a lovely lady. I enjoyed getting to chat with her.
But I guess...back to my original statement. It is so damn easy sometimes to just be mean, and cranky, or to not take the time to smile, or just be nice to the people around us. It's so easy to be mean, and sometimes, so hard to be nice. But you never know how your actions are going to affect another person. It can be as simple as saying a polite thank you, and actually meaning it. Or a kind gesture to a stranger. A conversation with the person next to you. Whatever it might be. Yes, it's easier to be cranky, and focus on your own world. But where does that get you?
I've found over the past couple of weeks that being nice to people isn't always easy. But for as much good as it does for the people around me, it's done a lot for me too. This is the time of year that I worry about my own mental state. And no fooling, it's insane. But those simple, kind acts. They're so worth it. And they make life...better.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
The Travel Chronicles: Oklahoma
I survived Oklahoma...again. It was only 111 degrees while I was there this time, as opposed to the 125 degrees it was last time I was there. Nuff' said, right? Ok, this is me we're talking about...so that's never just enough...
- I have traveled through a lot of teeny, tiny regional airports over the past 4 years, but it's official, Lawton, OK tops the list of teeny, tiny airports. There are 2 functioning gates at this airport, but only one of them is ever used. Instead of having a baggage claim belt, they just roll up a door, and throw the suitcases onto a table. And when I got to the airport a whopping hour before my flight (which was at 6am yesterday) they hadn't even opened security. In fact, they didn't open security until 20 minutes before the flight took off, so instead of letting people trickle through as they may, there was a massive line, and I ended up waiting in that line longer than I ever have going through any other major airport. Oh, and security here? You would have thought we were trying to gain access to Fort Knox. Ridiculous. Don't get me wrong, my love is out there for small airports, but holy guacamole! this was a little ridiculous.
- I have a goal for the end of Arrrrrrrrrrgust. It's a good goal, a funny goal. And one that is totally manageable: To freak out as many TSA agents, get suspicious looks, and searched as many times as possible...all by doing one, crazy thing. Smiling. Oh, and being pleasant. I already know that this is going to be a rough couple of months with the amount of traveling that I'm doing, so I'm going out of my way to be as nice and pleasant as possible to other people, if only to help keep my mind in a happy, positive place. But it's really funny to see the looks on TSA agents faces when you're actually smiling and being nice to them.
- The amount of travel I'm doing has increased...which is a good thing because that means I get more money. And more money is a good thing. Not that I'm greedy, but a girls gotta make a living. But in looking at my calendar now, I'll be traveling 9 weeks in a row, and some of those weeks I'm visiting 3 different states. It's a little crazy. A little intense. But I will, fortunately, have a few days off in between. It's just a little odd to think that I've had the past 5 weeks off, and now I won't get time off again until my birthday.
- On that note, a thought came to mind on my way back from Oklahoma. Since my birthday is coming up (not that the big 31 deserves a huge celebration, or that birthday's are a huge deal anymore) I thought it might be nice to treat myself to something I haven't experienced in at least the past 4 years. A vacation. I mean, a real vacation. No family. No races. Rest and relaxation. But there are a few challenges with this too. Not that I'm going to let those challenges stop me from this...but hear me out.
- After being on the road by myself for 9 weeks straight, I'm not sure going on vacation by myself is really the best idea. But the other part of that is then who would I travel with. Family (no offense) is out of the question. And most of my friends aren't around here, and even so, I need to see if they would even be able to go.
- I hate hotels. Even nice hotels get old. So the thought now is to either find a nice B&B or a cabin somewhere to rent. And I'm thinking within driving distance...because I am not so sure I want to fly.
- Ok, so maybe those really are my only challenges. Traveling companions and location. Shouldn't be so tough to overcome...right? Of course, any suggestions you might have are welcome.
- It's time to finally talk publicly about a rather odd phenomenon that has been going on the past few months. I have a collection of dresses in my closet that I always thought were my go to dresses. They're comfortable enough to wear all day long, and look nice enough for work. And they're dresses that I've had for a few years, so it's not like I bought a new dress, never wore it before, and had this happen. In Oklahoma, I got asked for the THIRD TIME!!! if I was pregnant. I've always kind of shrugged off the question, and obviously said no, but with a smile as to not make the other person feel like a complete idiot for asking such a bizarre, and hurtful question. And then vent to a couple of my friends. And I know that since I moved back, I've gained a little weight...but nothing comparable to what I have been in the past. And I've always been overweight. And like I said, I have been wearing these dresses for YEARS. So why, now, all of a sudden, am I getting these questions??? Either way, it is definitely a time to dump some of those old dresses in favor of a little shopping for some new clothes. But still, it's just a little baffling to me that it keeps happening on a rather regular basis.
- I've become a little neurotic. Again. It's ok though. It's about hand washing. About a month before Ironman Arizona last year, I got compulsive about washing my hands really well (even better than normal) as a way to help keep any illnesses at bay. It seemed to work. And every year prior, the last week of August, I have gotten what seemed to be the worst cold of my life, that is until the next year when the cold seemed even worse. I have delivered sessions where I literally had no voice to use. So another goal for this month is to not let that happen. So hand washing, hand sanitizer, and I've also started a regimen of Vitamin C and Echinacea.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Arrrrrrrrrrgust
No, it isn't "Talk like a Pirate" day. Or, at least I don't think it is. Either way, that's not the cause of today's title. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgust is the term used by my former co-workers for busy season. It lasts from the middle of July to the middle of September. And considering, even in my current job, it's still going to be busy season, I'm still claiming usage of the word. For the past month, I haven't traveled...at all...which is kinda nice. It's been a nice break, especially considering what I'm gearing up for.
Logistically, at the moment, I am as prepared as I can be. My flights, hotels, and rental cars are booked. Knowing that at any moment, those are going to need to be changed, because another trip is getting thrown into the mix. And the reality of me walking through the airport on my way to one destination, and seeing if I can squeeze in another trip is likely.
But mentally, I've been avoiding the subject like the plague.
Avoidance is the best option for dealing like situations like this.
Said no one ever.
Ok...so I've been skimming the surface of the subject. On one hand, instead of having 3 jobs to do this year, I only have to focus on 1 job. Woohoo!! But this is my 4th Arrrrrrrrrgust...and I know better. I know better than to think that only doing this one job this year is going to be easy. Because the next month is going to be anything but easy.
A lot of people, upon hearing what I do, tell me I have a pretty sweet gig. And I admit, I do. I get to work when I want to. Not work when I don't want to. And I get to travel. All valid points. But the reality of my job isn't always easy. There are a lot of times when my job makes me really sad. Let me explain...
1) Early Childhood Education tends to be one of those fields that, in some cases, definitely not all, people tend to fall into because they're not qualified to do anything else. And of course, Early Childhood is just "babysitting." Or, at least, that's what a lot of people think it is. When in reality it's so much more. The first 5 years of a child's life are so important, and they learn so much in those 5 years, that if they don't get the right start, with the right help from the beginning, it could affect the rest of their life. And when teachers don't have a passion for helping young children right from the beginning, bad things happen. So it makes me sad when I go into schools, and I see teachers that could care less about the valuable information I'm giving them, that will, without question, make their jobs easier, and better, and allow them to be a more positive influence to the children they work with. And to see teachers that just don't care makes me really sad.
2) Traveling, by yourself, sucks. I love to travel, don't get me wrong. I absolutely couldn't do this job if I didn't like to travel. But traveling for work really isn't as glamorous as one might think. Airports are full of two types of people. 1) Families or couples going on vacation. 2) Lonely business travelers, who you often see sitting by themselves, eating dinner by themselves, and doing everything else you can possibly do in an airport...alone. Not to mention the fact that you get to watch all of those families/couples getting ready for a week of fun. I have literally spent countless nights all alone in a hotel room, watching bad TV and eating take out/room service...because I'm in the middle of nowhere, and there isn't anything fun to do.
Past history tells me that by the end of August, I am going to be burnt out, cranky, and a real joy to be around. In the past, I have spent 6 weeks away from home, where I might only make an appearance for a total of 24 hours before I was off to another destination. My own roommate thought that I had basically moved out. And there were people in my office who thought I was only some mystical being that didn't actually exist in reality.
But this year is different. I keep telling myself that. I'm in a different position. I only have this one thing to do. I'm living in a different place. I have family close by. Things are different. But I guess you could say that I'm still not being overly positive. And maybe I'm a little scared too. I know some of the mental anxiety that this time of year can bring, and I'm not looking forward to it. Because, I assure you, for all the cranky that I'm sharing with the world, what's going on in my head is a million times worse. And no matter how many friends you have...this time of year gets lonely. Really lonely.
So I guess you could say at this point, I'm hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.
Logistically, at the moment, I am as prepared as I can be. My flights, hotels, and rental cars are booked. Knowing that at any moment, those are going to need to be changed, because another trip is getting thrown into the mix. And the reality of me walking through the airport on my way to one destination, and seeing if I can squeeze in another trip is likely.
But mentally, I've been avoiding the subject like the plague.
Avoidance is the best option for dealing like situations like this.
Said no one ever.
Ok...so I've been skimming the surface of the subject. On one hand, instead of having 3 jobs to do this year, I only have to focus on 1 job. Woohoo!! But this is my 4th Arrrrrrrrrgust...and I know better. I know better than to think that only doing this one job this year is going to be easy. Because the next month is going to be anything but easy.
A lot of people, upon hearing what I do, tell me I have a pretty sweet gig. And I admit, I do. I get to work when I want to. Not work when I don't want to. And I get to travel. All valid points. But the reality of my job isn't always easy. There are a lot of times when my job makes me really sad. Let me explain...
1) Early Childhood Education tends to be one of those fields that, in some cases, definitely not all, people tend to fall into because they're not qualified to do anything else. And of course, Early Childhood is just "babysitting." Or, at least, that's what a lot of people think it is. When in reality it's so much more. The first 5 years of a child's life are so important, and they learn so much in those 5 years, that if they don't get the right start, with the right help from the beginning, it could affect the rest of their life. And when teachers don't have a passion for helping young children right from the beginning, bad things happen. So it makes me sad when I go into schools, and I see teachers that could care less about the valuable information I'm giving them, that will, without question, make their jobs easier, and better, and allow them to be a more positive influence to the children they work with. And to see teachers that just don't care makes me really sad.
2) Traveling, by yourself, sucks. I love to travel, don't get me wrong. I absolutely couldn't do this job if I didn't like to travel. But traveling for work really isn't as glamorous as one might think. Airports are full of two types of people. 1) Families or couples going on vacation. 2) Lonely business travelers, who you often see sitting by themselves, eating dinner by themselves, and doing everything else you can possibly do in an airport...alone. Not to mention the fact that you get to watch all of those families/couples getting ready for a week of fun. I have literally spent countless nights all alone in a hotel room, watching bad TV and eating take out/room service...because I'm in the middle of nowhere, and there isn't anything fun to do.
Past history tells me that by the end of August, I am going to be burnt out, cranky, and a real joy to be around. In the past, I have spent 6 weeks away from home, where I might only make an appearance for a total of 24 hours before I was off to another destination. My own roommate thought that I had basically moved out. And there were people in my office who thought I was only some mystical being that didn't actually exist in reality.
But this year is different. I keep telling myself that. I'm in a different position. I only have this one thing to do. I'm living in a different place. I have family close by. Things are different. But I guess you could say that I'm still not being overly positive. And maybe I'm a little scared too. I know some of the mental anxiety that this time of year can bring, and I'm not looking forward to it. Because, I assure you, for all the cranky that I'm sharing with the world, what's going on in my head is a million times worse. And no matter how many friends you have...this time of year gets lonely. Really lonely.
So I guess you could say at this point, I'm hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Companionship
I have gone and done it. Just gone off the deep end and done it. It never even registered to mention this on the (very short) list of things I'll never do because the idea of doing it was so preposterous.
So, what is it I've done that you should probably now be concerned about my mental well being?
I adopted a cat. Me. Allergy girl. Adopted a cat.
So, without further ado, please let me introduce you to Charlie.
Permission to say "Awwwwwwwwwwww" right now.
So, you might ask, at this point, how it is I came to adopt young Charlie. A couple of weeks ago, you might remember (or not) that I had to stay at my parents house for a few days while my well was being disinfected. And one morning while I was there, I was in the living room, drinking coffee, and I swore I heard a cat meowing (this eventually led me to call him, briefly, Captain Meow). So I went to inspect. Lo and behold, Charlie had followed my mom home on her walk the evening before, and decided to camp out. And he wouldn't leave. I don't blame him, the parents have a nice house. The parents, not really looking to have a pet of their own right now were desperately wanting to remove Charlie from their farm. I was always willing...I just needed to get my caretakers approval. You know, because I travel a lot, and a pet can't just be my responsibility.
So, last night, I inquired as to how the young kitten was doing, and the mom told me he was still there. And I told her that, you know, feeding a cat wouldn't add too much of a burden to their current responsibilities of watering my flowers and gathering my mail while I'm gone.
Today, the mom calls to let me know that they're picking up some kitten food. For my barnyard guest. Did I get the picture?
Woohoo!!
So Charlie and I just got home. I showed him around the place. And by that, I mean, I showed him where his food is going to be located. So far, so good.
I'll keep you posted.
For now, he really likes to follow you around, and do the cute intertwining around your ankles. And there has been a lot of purring going on on Charlie's end. And a lot of nose scratching going on on my end. But he's staying outside (I mean, he's cute and all, but I don't want to die). So, be prepared that you may now be inundated with cute cat pictures, and stories. And an occasional slip into LOLspeak.
You know, I once read in a book (fiction) that owning a pet automatically makes your IQ drop 10 points...because it's inevitable that you're going to start speaking like and idiot to the animal. And so far, I can absolutely say this is true. Because from the moment he got in the car, I've been saying things like "Charlieeeeeeeeee, you so cuuuuuuuuute."
Don't judge. I promise I won't do the same to my future children that I'm having in 12 years.
You also might inquire as to why the name change. Well, as I was working on project headboard (updates on that soon, I promise) I was thinking about calling a cat Captain Meow. And though it's fitting, I just couldn't picture myself calling a pet that long term. So then I started thinking of alternate names. George came to mind. But then...then I started thinking about my grandparents...whose farm I'm living on. Paw especially. And every single animal that ever made it to this farm to live was called Charlie Brown by him. I never really ever figured out if it was because he didn't want me to get too attached to the cows (who I would eventually be eating) or if he just didn't want to have to remember a different name all the time. But that's what he always called the animals. So I figured it was fitting that the new kid on the barnyard follow suit.
Alright...it's dinner time. For me, not Charlie. Nom, nom, nom.
So, what is it I've done that you should probably now be concerned about my mental well being?
I adopted a cat. Me. Allergy girl. Adopted a cat.
So, without further ado, please let me introduce you to Charlie.
Permission to say "Awwwwwwwwwwww" right now.
So, you might ask, at this point, how it is I came to adopt young Charlie. A couple of weeks ago, you might remember (or not) that I had to stay at my parents house for a few days while my well was being disinfected. And one morning while I was there, I was in the living room, drinking coffee, and I swore I heard a cat meowing (this eventually led me to call him, briefly, Captain Meow). So I went to inspect. Lo and behold, Charlie had followed my mom home on her walk the evening before, and decided to camp out. And he wouldn't leave. I don't blame him, the parents have a nice house. The parents, not really looking to have a pet of their own right now were desperately wanting to remove Charlie from their farm. I was always willing...I just needed to get my caretakers approval. You know, because I travel a lot, and a pet can't just be my responsibility.
So, last night, I inquired as to how the young kitten was doing, and the mom told me he was still there. And I told her that, you know, feeding a cat wouldn't add too much of a burden to their current responsibilities of watering my flowers and gathering my mail while I'm gone.
Today, the mom calls to let me know that they're picking up some kitten food. For my barnyard guest. Did I get the picture?
Woohoo!!
So Charlie and I just got home. I showed him around the place. And by that, I mean, I showed him where his food is going to be located. So far, so good.
I'll keep you posted.
For now, he really likes to follow you around, and do the cute intertwining around your ankles. And there has been a lot of purring going on on Charlie's end. And a lot of nose scratching going on on my end. But he's staying outside (I mean, he's cute and all, but I don't want to die). So, be prepared that you may now be inundated with cute cat pictures, and stories. And an occasional slip into LOLspeak.
You know, I once read in a book (fiction) that owning a pet automatically makes your IQ drop 10 points...because it's inevitable that you're going to start speaking like and idiot to the animal. And so far, I can absolutely say this is true. Because from the moment he got in the car, I've been saying things like "Charlieeeeeeeeee, you so cuuuuuuuuute."
Don't judge. I promise I won't do the same to my future children that I'm having in 12 years.
You also might inquire as to why the name change. Well, as I was working on project headboard (updates on that soon, I promise) I was thinking about calling a cat Captain Meow. And though it's fitting, I just couldn't picture myself calling a pet that long term. So then I started thinking of alternate names. George came to mind. But then...then I started thinking about my grandparents...whose farm I'm living on. Paw especially. And every single animal that ever made it to this farm to live was called Charlie Brown by him. I never really ever figured out if it was because he didn't want me to get too attached to the cows (who I would eventually be eating) or if he just didn't want to have to remember a different name all the time. But that's what he always called the animals. So I figured it was fitting that the new kid on the barnyard follow suit.
Alright...it's dinner time. For me, not Charlie. Nom, nom, nom.
Monday, July 16, 2012
People
Ok, before we get to the main point of tonight's post, I just have to share something with you. If you are prone to a queasy stomach in sensitive situations...just skip to the next paragraph. I think I killed a bird tonight...while watering my plants. For a few weeks, there has been a bird living in my hanging basket...and every night, it politely flies away when I water the plant...you know...so it doesn't die (the plant...that is). But tonight....it didn't fly away. It fell. To this point...it's not dead dead. But it sure isn't moving that much. I may need to call in dad's bird removal services soon. The last I saw it, it was just sitting there...not really moving much. So I'm hoping it's just stunned, and that soon, it's going to just fly away, and never come back to my hanging basket. Ever. Again.
I'm glad I got that off my chest. You can berate me for being an awful human being now.
I have a love/hate relationship with people. I love people...in fact...I probably love everyone that's reading this post right now. (Please feel free to pause and say "Awwwwwwwwwwwww" now) But I also hate people...because, let's be honest, people can be weird, and stupid, and annoying. Or maybe that's just my perception of them. But instead of being so annoyed that I become a hermit on my farm to avoid said annoying people, I choose to laugh at them. I always said at my last job if I weren't able to laugh at the stupidity I was shown every day, I would go crazy. (Seriously...there are only so many times you can tell people how to spell "strategies" or try to explain what a web browser is. And if you think I'm joking that those were two of the most frequently asked questions I ever received...you need to work in customer service for a while. Then you'll know.) So here lies the main point of tonight's post. People. Different kinds of people. All situations I've been in recently. So I thought you might like a laugh or two at their expense.
I decided to treat myself today. Having recently gotten paid, I decided to run some errands today for some projects I want to work on before busy season hits. And instead of doing my usual lunch on errands day of eating my not so emergency, emergency granola bar...I decided to take myself to lunch. At what has previously been one of my favorite places to "hang out" in town. The coffee shop. And by coffee shop, I do not mean Starbucks...because I do not approve of Starbucks. This is a locally owned, rather hipster for Middle America, coffee shop. With good food too. It's always been a favorite place of mine, even when I didn't live here. It's the place I first met, and first got creeped out, by my BFF's husband. Hmm...perhaps you should have heard my Maid of Honor speech to fully understand that one. (Long story short, it was creepy in a good way, because I thought that they were so well matched.) It's a good place. So I go in for lunch...and they're rather busy...which is cool...I'm under no time constraint. Except...I then realize that over half the people in there are half my age. Which is not so cool. Because when you get a mass quantity of young people in a coffee house, unsupervised...annoyance happens. And since I had plenty of time to wait, because it took foreeeeeeeeeeeeeeevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvver to get my food (I told you they were busy) I had plenty of opportunities to observe them. Apparently...all of these kids had just been to some type of health safety class...where apparently the main topic of conversation was how to avoid getting germs(?). Anyway...apparently there were new methods of greeting people that involved no chance of an exchange of bodily fluids. Something Sheldon Cooper would jump on in a heart beat...if he were ever interested in touching someone...which he isn't. And then there were many conversations that involved the words "duuuuuuuuuuuuude" and "like". And then they finally went to another section of the coffee house, under the recommendation of the girl working the counter, who was as annoyed as the rest of us. And then as soon as the kiddos went to the back room, a table full of women my age found another table in the front of the coffee house. They were that bad.
So I smirked into my Diet Coke, and found a table at the front of the coffee house.
To any men reading this post...I apologize in advance for this next part...partially.
Men are idiots. Wait...let me rephrase. Boys...boys are idiots. So, I talked to this guy yesterday...for about 45 minutes...which, in retrospect was about 45 minutes too long. In under 5 minutes, he had already asked me to marry him...and proceeded to do so again another 8 times while we talked. And if that weren't bad enough...he would proceed to ask me questions...demanding answers...and then I would get, at most, 5 words out of my mouth before he would interrupt me. He proceeded to wrap up the day by asking a quite vulgar question...one that is best not shared for public knowledge. Just rest assured knowing that I didn't answer...unless you count hanging up on him. I guess you could consider that an answer. Anyway...he proceeds to call me back immediately...to which I didn't answer...and he left me a voice message saying he was sorry...but that's just how he is, and I should be ok with that. Well...I'm ok with who people are...but if you're gonna be like that...I don't have to put up with listening to you. So then he calls back again. And I still don't answer. And this time, he tells me that he wants babies...girls, specifically, and he was really hoping I would provide them for him. Riiiiiiiiiiiiight...because I'm a baby factory. So then a couple of hours go by, and I think I'm free and clear. But I'm not...he calls me back a third time, and I still don't answer. (Normal people would have gotten the hint by now, right?) So this time he tells me that he's just really lonely, and he would really appreciate it if I would meet him for lunch. Really??? Seriously???? No. So I decide I need to put an end to this. I send him a text and tell him never to contact me ever again. To which he said he just had to try because I'm so pretty. *puke* Fortunately, I haven't heard from him since.
The sad thing here is that though this is an extreme case...it certainly is not alone in my stories of weird, bad dates. Yes, I realize this wasn't a date...but could you imagine how much material I could have gotten had I actually went out with him??? My book would be written. Sadly...I'm not certain I would make it through the hour without going insane...so I guess we'll never know.
But never fear...with my track record...I'm sure I'll come across more material in the future.
I will say, however, trying to look on the bright side of things...something positive has come out of that experience. Other than the chuckles I hope you all just had. For as many problems with self confidence as I've had over the years...one thing is for certain...I KNOW I deserve better than that guy.
I'm glad I got that off my chest. You can berate me for being an awful human being now.
I have a love/hate relationship with people. I love people...in fact...I probably love everyone that's reading this post right now. (Please feel free to pause and say "Awwwwwwwwwwwww" now) But I also hate people...because, let's be honest, people can be weird, and stupid, and annoying. Or maybe that's just my perception of them. But instead of being so annoyed that I become a hermit on my farm to avoid said annoying people, I choose to laugh at them. I always said at my last job if I weren't able to laugh at the stupidity I was shown every day, I would go crazy. (Seriously...there are only so many times you can tell people how to spell "strategies" or try to explain what a web browser is. And if you think I'm joking that those were two of the most frequently asked questions I ever received...you need to work in customer service for a while. Then you'll know.) So here lies the main point of tonight's post. People. Different kinds of people. All situations I've been in recently. So I thought you might like a laugh or two at their expense.
I decided to treat myself today. Having recently gotten paid, I decided to run some errands today for some projects I want to work on before busy season hits. And instead of doing my usual lunch on errands day of eating my not so emergency, emergency granola bar...I decided to take myself to lunch. At what has previously been one of my favorite places to "hang out" in town. The coffee shop. And by coffee shop, I do not mean Starbucks...because I do not approve of Starbucks. This is a locally owned, rather hipster for Middle America, coffee shop. With good food too. It's always been a favorite place of mine, even when I didn't live here. It's the place I first met, and first got creeped out, by my BFF's husband. Hmm...perhaps you should have heard my Maid of Honor speech to fully understand that one. (Long story short, it was creepy in a good way, because I thought that they were so well matched.) It's a good place. So I go in for lunch...and they're rather busy...which is cool...I'm under no time constraint. Except...I then realize that over half the people in there are half my age. Which is not so cool. Because when you get a mass quantity of young people in a coffee house, unsupervised...annoyance happens. And since I had plenty of time to wait, because it took foreeeeeeeeeeeeeeevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvver to get my food (I told you they were busy) I had plenty of opportunities to observe them. Apparently...all of these kids had just been to some type of health safety class...where apparently the main topic of conversation was how to avoid getting germs(?). Anyway...apparently there were new methods of greeting people that involved no chance of an exchange of bodily fluids. Something Sheldon Cooper would jump on in a heart beat...if he were ever interested in touching someone...which he isn't. And then there were many conversations that involved the words "duuuuuuuuuuuuude" and "like". And then they finally went to another section of the coffee house, under the recommendation of the girl working the counter, who was as annoyed as the rest of us. And then as soon as the kiddos went to the back room, a table full of women my age found another table in the front of the coffee house. They were that bad.
So I smirked into my Diet Coke, and found a table at the front of the coffee house.
To any men reading this post...I apologize in advance for this next part...partially.
Men are idiots. Wait...let me rephrase. Boys...boys are idiots. So, I talked to this guy yesterday...for about 45 minutes...which, in retrospect was about 45 minutes too long. In under 5 minutes, he had already asked me to marry him...and proceeded to do so again another 8 times while we talked. And if that weren't bad enough...he would proceed to ask me questions...demanding answers...and then I would get, at most, 5 words out of my mouth before he would interrupt me. He proceeded to wrap up the day by asking a quite vulgar question...one that is best not shared for public knowledge. Just rest assured knowing that I didn't answer...unless you count hanging up on him. I guess you could consider that an answer. Anyway...he proceeds to call me back immediately...to which I didn't answer...and he left me a voice message saying he was sorry...but that's just how he is, and I should be ok with that. Well...I'm ok with who people are...but if you're gonna be like that...I don't have to put up with listening to you. So then he calls back again. And I still don't answer. And this time, he tells me that he wants babies...girls, specifically, and he was really hoping I would provide them for him. Riiiiiiiiiiiiight...because I'm a baby factory. So then a couple of hours go by, and I think I'm free and clear. But I'm not...he calls me back a third time, and I still don't answer. (Normal people would have gotten the hint by now, right?) So this time he tells me that he's just really lonely, and he would really appreciate it if I would meet him for lunch. Really??? Seriously???? No. So I decide I need to put an end to this. I send him a text and tell him never to contact me ever again. To which he said he just had to try because I'm so pretty. *puke* Fortunately, I haven't heard from him since.
The sad thing here is that though this is an extreme case...it certainly is not alone in my stories of weird, bad dates. Yes, I realize this wasn't a date...but could you imagine how much material I could have gotten had I actually went out with him??? My book would be written. Sadly...I'm not certain I would make it through the hour without going insane...so I guess we'll never know.
But never fear...with my track record...I'm sure I'll come across more material in the future.
I will say, however, trying to look on the bright side of things...something positive has come out of that experience. Other than the chuckles I hope you all just had. For as many problems with self confidence as I've had over the years...one thing is for certain...I KNOW I deserve better than that guy.
Monday, July 2, 2012
The Bucket List
Well, after thinking about this for a while, and making an unofficial list in my head...I have finally written down my bucket list. It seems fairly short to me right now, so I am claiming the right to add to this at any point in time.
1) Visit all 50 states. As of writing this I have 9 or 10 left to visit (Alaska, Hawaii, Nevada, North Dakota, New Mexico(?), Maine, Connecticut, Vermont, New Hampshire and Rhode Island)
2) Go to a Packer's Game at Lambeau Field.
3) Find Mr. Right, fall in love and get married, and have kids.
4) Finish an Ironman.
5) Get more stamps in my passport - at the moment, I don't have a specific destination to visit...I'm kinda open about this one.
6) Write a book and get published.
Well...that's it for now. If anyone has any ideas...please...let me know...I'll take them into consideration :)
1) Visit all 50 states. As of writing this I have 9 or 10 left to visit (Alaska, Hawaii, Nevada, North Dakota, New Mexico(?), Maine, Connecticut, Vermont, New Hampshire and Rhode Island)
2) Go to a Packer's Game at Lambeau Field.
3) Find Mr. Right, fall in love and get married, and have kids.
4) Finish an Ironman.
5) Get more stamps in my passport - at the moment, I don't have a specific destination to visit...I'm kinda open about this one.
6) Write a book and get published.
Well...that's it for now. If anyone has any ideas...please...let me know...I'll take them into consideration :)
Something's Gotta Give
Hi, my name is Johanna, and I'm an idiot.
Ok, now that we have that established, let me tell you why. I have a date tomorrow night. Yup, *I* have a date. And at the moment, every single cell in my body is telling me I should call him and tell him I'm sick. I'm not sick. Granted, I feel sick to my stomach right now, but I'm not actually sick. So, why, you might ask, do I want to call in sick? I'm chicken. Plain and simple...I'm chicken. I actually really like him. And I'm scared to open myself up to the possibility of getting hurt again. So at the moment, calling in sick is sounding like a much more reasonable option.
For the past 6 years, I have desperately wanted to find "the one." If such a thing exists. Desperately. And I've went on a few dates. But by and large...I have spent a lot of the past 6 years just completely giving up on finding a relationship. All because I'm one big pile of chicken sh*t.
Not having grown up in an uber emotionally supportive home, where the theory was more just "get over it" I feel weird right now. I'm not positive how to work through this. So when I finally got out of a horrible emotionally and psychologically abusive relationship 6 years ago, I wasn't sure how to get over it than just not let it bug me anymore. But that totally didn't work. I had no clue how to regain any amount of self respect, confidence, or trust. So, long story short, over the past 6 years, I've found a really good way to a) find the wrong guy and b) spend a lot of time by myself.
And I've tried being open...and it's clearly not worked. But a few weeks ago, I read an article that really seemed to resonate with me. It was about finding a relationship after any type of an abusive relationship. And the essence of the article was that the real, true healing comes in finding the good relationship. And it also mentioned a few things about how abuse survivors feel about finding a relationship...a desperation for wanting to find someone who will love you to the ends of the earth and back, combined with a lot of anxiety and fear about finding that type of relationship.
At this point in time, I could be the mascot for this article. I know it...I know that a lot of my feelings are illogical. But I'm right there in the middle of it.
So, this morning, my illogical brain started thinking of the movie Something's Gotta Give. It's a great movie where Diane Keaton falls in love with Jack Nicholson, and gets her heart broken. There's a great scene between she and her daughter that smacked me in the face this morning.
Marin: Are you crying?
Erica Barry: Yeah. It's my new thing. I've gotten abnormally brilliant at it.
Marin: Why? What is it?
Erica Barry: I'm in love. Ain't it great? Seems like I gotta learn how to that... love-them-and-leave-them stuff, you know?
Marin: Oh mom, I hate this. Now do you get my theory about all this? You gotta self-protect.
Erica Barry: You don't really buy this stuff you say, do you? You don't actually think that you can outsmart getting hurt?
Marin: I think it's worth trying.
Erica Barry: Listen to me. You can't hide from love for the rest of your life because maybe it won't work out... maybe you'll become unglued? It's just not a way to live.
Marin: Are you telling me this is good? What's happened to you?
Erica Barry: I think you should consider the possibility that you and I are more alike than you realize. I let someone in, and I had the time of my life.
Marin: I've never had the time of my life.
Erica Barry: I know, baby. And I say this from the deepest part of my heart. What are you waiting for?
Yup, for our purposes today, I'm her daughter, Marin. Every single cell in my body is screaming at me to run the opposite direction. But I don't want to feel like a quitter. Because I'm not a quitter. I finished a 2.4 mile swim, in 61 degree water, already suffering the effects of hypothermia. But I didn't quit!! Because you keep moving forward.
Well, at the moment, I'd much rather take another swim in that frigid water than go on this date tomorrow night. Why? Because I like him. There, I said it. Happy now? I like him, a lot. And I don't want to get hurt again. And I feel like an idiot, because I really believe what is said up above. That you really have to open yourself up to live and love. But holy crap, this is so hard!
Ok...I'm going to try to hit "Publish" now. ACK!!!
Ok, now that we have that established, let me tell you why. I have a date tomorrow night. Yup, *I* have a date. And at the moment, every single cell in my body is telling me I should call him and tell him I'm sick. I'm not sick. Granted, I feel sick to my stomach right now, but I'm not actually sick. So, why, you might ask, do I want to call in sick? I'm chicken. Plain and simple...I'm chicken. I actually really like him. And I'm scared to open myself up to the possibility of getting hurt again. So at the moment, calling in sick is sounding like a much more reasonable option.
For the past 6 years, I have desperately wanted to find "the one." If such a thing exists. Desperately. And I've went on a few dates. But by and large...I have spent a lot of the past 6 years just completely giving up on finding a relationship. All because I'm one big pile of chicken sh*t.
Not having grown up in an uber emotionally supportive home, where the theory was more just "get over it" I feel weird right now. I'm not positive how to work through this. So when I finally got out of a horrible emotionally and psychologically abusive relationship 6 years ago, I wasn't sure how to get over it than just not let it bug me anymore. But that totally didn't work. I had no clue how to regain any amount of self respect, confidence, or trust. So, long story short, over the past 6 years, I've found a really good way to a) find the wrong guy and b) spend a lot of time by myself.
And I've tried being open...and it's clearly not worked. But a few weeks ago, I read an article that really seemed to resonate with me. It was about finding a relationship after any type of an abusive relationship. And the essence of the article was that the real, true healing comes in finding the good relationship. And it also mentioned a few things about how abuse survivors feel about finding a relationship...a desperation for wanting to find someone who will love you to the ends of the earth and back, combined with a lot of anxiety and fear about finding that type of relationship.
At this point in time, I could be the mascot for this article. I know it...I know that a lot of my feelings are illogical. But I'm right there in the middle of it.
So, this morning, my illogical brain started thinking of the movie Something's Gotta Give. It's a great movie where Diane Keaton falls in love with Jack Nicholson, and gets her heart broken. There's a great scene between she and her daughter that smacked me in the face this morning.
Marin: Are you crying?
Erica Barry: Yeah. It's my new thing. I've gotten abnormally brilliant at it.
Marin: Why? What is it?
Erica Barry: I'm in love. Ain't it great? Seems like I gotta learn how to that... love-them-and-leave-them stuff, you know?
Marin: Oh mom, I hate this. Now do you get my theory about all this? You gotta self-protect.
Erica Barry: You don't really buy this stuff you say, do you? You don't actually think that you can outsmart getting hurt?
Marin: I think it's worth trying.
Erica Barry: Listen to me. You can't hide from love for the rest of your life because maybe it won't work out... maybe you'll become unglued? It's just not a way to live.
Marin: Are you telling me this is good? What's happened to you?
Erica Barry: I think you should consider the possibility that you and I are more alike than you realize. I let someone in, and I had the time of my life.
Marin: I've never had the time of my life.
Erica Barry: I know, baby. And I say this from the deepest part of my heart. What are you waiting for?
Yup, for our purposes today, I'm her daughter, Marin. Every single cell in my body is screaming at me to run the opposite direction. But I don't want to feel like a quitter. Because I'm not a quitter. I finished a 2.4 mile swim, in 61 degree water, already suffering the effects of hypothermia. But I didn't quit!! Because you keep moving forward.
Well, at the moment, I'd much rather take another swim in that frigid water than go on this date tomorrow night. Why? Because I like him. There, I said it. Happy now? I like him, a lot. And I don't want to get hurt again. And I feel like an idiot, because I really believe what is said up above. That you really have to open yourself up to live and love. But holy crap, this is so hard!
Ok...I'm going to try to hit "Publish" now. ACK!!!
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
The Road Trip Journal
Greetings from the executive floor of the Chicago Hilton. It's possible this hotel might make up for the last hotel that I was in a couple of weeks ago. Almost.
After discovering some old road trip journals from trips long past, I have decided to resume my road trip journals...and have decided to share today's with you. I will add, it's a little difficult to write as much as I'd like when I'm by myself...but you still will hopefully get the idea...
10:44am - Start packing
10:54am - Finish packing
You may be wondering why it took me so long, as this is well over my average packing time. Well, I had to re-pack all of my toiletries from carry on version to normal. And it's also possible I was dancing the entire time, which may have slowed me down a bit.
11:10am - Realized that I forgot to pack underwear. Immediately corrected the situation
12:57pm - Load up suitcase, cooler etc. Do last minute double check to ensure that nothing has been left behind. Like my backpack (computer). Not that I ever forget things. Or start driving without them. Ok...so it was just that once...
12:58pm - On the road.
12:59pm - Regret eating black beans for both breakfast and lunch.
1:02pm - Call the mom and sing "On The Road Again."
1:13pm - Pass a tractor pulling some type of unfamiliar farm equipment
1:18pm - Stop for gas. 38.5mpg. That seems off. Betty normally gets good gas mileage, but this seems excessive.
1:20pm - On the road again. The first episode for the day of Dragnet is on the radio.
2:50pm - Stop at Target in Champaign to stretch, and necessities. And by necessities I mean Diet Coke.
3:15pm - After getting a lot of attitude from a Target employee about the cost of my allergy medicine, I had to check myself before I wrecked myself. I thanked the nice employee who was helpful, and then cracked open a new Diet Coke. I'm once again on the road.
3:58pm - While listening to an episode of Dragnet, Joe Friday walked into the squad room, room 27A, at 3:58pm. I look at the clock to find that it is also 3:58pm right now. WEIRD.
5:09pm - Stuck in traffic, and I need to pee.
5:11pm - The Focus in front of me has their right blinker on, when clearly there is no opportunity to turn right, or move a lane to the right. Curious.
5:12pm - Still stuck in traffic. Still need to pee.
5:23pm - STILL STUCK IN TRAFFIC!! Perhaps I should consider adult diapers in the future. Really, it could be dual purpose. One obvious reason. The other would add to the padding of my less than padded posterior.
5:36pm - Arrive at the hotel. Finally.
Now it's time to find some dinner, and take a shower. The sun was shining on me the entire trip, making Betty feel like an oven, no matter how high I turned the AC. Perhaps I need to get some tinting for Betty and make her look a little more gangsta.
And the fact that Firefox didn't pull out "gangsta" as misspelled is slightly disconcerting.
PS - I listened to an episode of This American Life on today's trip, and it was all about Black Jack. The first half was about counting cards, which is intriguing, and sounds a little fun. The second half was all about gambling addiction...which frankly sounds a little scary. I'm so conflicted!
After discovering some old road trip journals from trips long past, I have decided to resume my road trip journals...and have decided to share today's with you. I will add, it's a little difficult to write as much as I'd like when I'm by myself...but you still will hopefully get the idea...
10:44am - Start packing
10:54am - Finish packing
You may be wondering why it took me so long, as this is well over my average packing time. Well, I had to re-pack all of my toiletries from carry on version to normal. And it's also possible I was dancing the entire time, which may have slowed me down a bit.
11:10am - Realized that I forgot to pack underwear. Immediately corrected the situation
12:57pm - Load up suitcase, cooler etc. Do last minute double check to ensure that nothing has been left behind. Like my backpack (computer). Not that I ever forget things. Or start driving without them. Ok...so it was just that once...
12:58pm - On the road.
12:59pm - Regret eating black beans for both breakfast and lunch.
1:02pm - Call the mom and sing "On The Road Again."
1:13pm - Pass a tractor pulling some type of unfamiliar farm equipment
1:18pm - Stop for gas. 38.5mpg. That seems off. Betty normally gets good gas mileage, but this seems excessive.
1:20pm - On the road again. The first episode for the day of Dragnet is on the radio.
2:50pm - Stop at Target in Champaign to stretch, and necessities. And by necessities I mean Diet Coke.
3:15pm - After getting a lot of attitude from a Target employee about the cost of my allergy medicine, I had to check myself before I wrecked myself. I thanked the nice employee who was helpful, and then cracked open a new Diet Coke. I'm once again on the road.
3:58pm - While listening to an episode of Dragnet, Joe Friday walked into the squad room, room 27A, at 3:58pm. I look at the clock to find that it is also 3:58pm right now. WEIRD.
5:09pm - Stuck in traffic, and I need to pee.
5:11pm - The Focus in front of me has their right blinker on, when clearly there is no opportunity to turn right, or move a lane to the right. Curious.
5:12pm - Still stuck in traffic. Still need to pee.
5:23pm - STILL STUCK IN TRAFFIC!! Perhaps I should consider adult diapers in the future. Really, it could be dual purpose. One obvious reason. The other would add to the padding of my less than padded posterior.
5:36pm - Arrive at the hotel. Finally.
Now it's time to find some dinner, and take a shower. The sun was shining on me the entire trip, making Betty feel like an oven, no matter how high I turned the AC. Perhaps I need to get some tinting for Betty and make her look a little more gangsta.
And the fact that Firefox didn't pull out "gangsta" as misspelled is slightly disconcerting.
PS - I listened to an episode of This American Life on today's trip, and it was all about Black Jack. The first half was about counting cards, which is intriguing, and sounds a little fun. The second half was all about gambling addiction...which frankly sounds a little scary. I'm so conflicted!
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
I Just Can't Wait Until Thursday 13
1) Cedric is coming home today!! Cedric is coming home today!! Robby at Bike and Hike told me that every once in a while he'll hear Cedric calling my name. I can't wait to go for a "long" bike ride!!
2) There has been a whole lot of dancing going on around my house lately. I blame it on the coffee.
3) Oh Coffee. Dear Coffee. My love. There is absolutely nothing like a good, strong cup of coffee in the morning. I miss it so when I travel.
4) I believe the dancing I've been doing lately is the reason I'm currently sitting at my desk, with an ice pack wrapped around my knee. That, and the fact that I haven't been stretching like I should lately.
5) I did stretch today though. After I ran 5 miles. In honor of National Running Day. And, you know, just because I could.
6) Quote from me to the dad from last Sunday, during Sunday School: "If I have this many aches and pains now, what is it going to be like when I get old???" I know I do a lot of crazy things. And I'm pretty much the biggest klutz in the entire world. But ouch!
7) In addition to my knee, my feet also hate me.
8) Hmm...I think it's time to go shoe shopping.
9) Gardening is teaching me patience. Ok, during my lifetime, I have had a lot of opportunities to become a more patient person. But gardening is such a wonderful example of how a little time can pay off. I've never really gardened...at all...before. Unless you count killing a hanging basket every year when I lived in my apartment a few years ago. But it's been an amazing process for me since I moved home. To see the things that I planted a few weeks ago, blossoming into something so beautiful all around me. I feel so blessed to have this experience. I wait all this time. Seeing the once beautiful petals fall to the ground. And I prune the plants back to what seems like nothing. Then all of a sudden, almost over night, they once again blossom into something so beautiful. It's amazing.
10) I would much rather grow flowers than ever buy them from a florist.
11) Knee high by the 4th of July. It's the old standby saying for corn growth. If corn is to a person's knee (though, I see a challenge in this because it may depend on whose knee you're measuring by. There's quite a difference, for example, between the height of my knee from the ground compared to my mother. Me = tall. Mom = short) farmer's are going to have a good crop. Well, this year, I don't think it matters whose knee you measure by. I was driving home last night, late, and even in the dark, I could see that in the couple of days that I was gone, the corn all around my house had proverbially exploded. Holy guacamole!! It's huge!! I'd say this year, it's shoulder high by the 4th of July or bust!!
12) I think it's about time I write down an official bucket list. I've, without trying, created a list in my head. But it's time to put things on paper. Stay tuned.
13) I truly hope that no one pays close attention to me when I travel. Never mind the embarrassing in flight napping. I'm referring specifically to rental cars. Should anyone care to do so, I'm certain they would immediately call the local mental facility, because surely a patient has escaped. I hate rental cars. I always lose them when I'm in a parking lot, because I never remember exactly what the car looks like. And putting gas in the car is always a challenge, because every car is different. A couple of days ago, I spent 10 minutes just trying to get the cap back on the gas tank, because the Passat is so "special." This, after inadvertently popping the hood, instead of the gas cover, because IT WASN'T MARKED. By the way...VW Passat: Worst car ever!
2) There has been a whole lot of dancing going on around my house lately. I blame it on the coffee.
3) Oh Coffee. Dear Coffee. My love. There is absolutely nothing like a good, strong cup of coffee in the morning. I miss it so when I travel.
4) I believe the dancing I've been doing lately is the reason I'm currently sitting at my desk, with an ice pack wrapped around my knee. That, and the fact that I haven't been stretching like I should lately.
5) I did stretch today though. After I ran 5 miles. In honor of National Running Day. And, you know, just because I could.
6) Quote from me to the dad from last Sunday, during Sunday School: "If I have this many aches and pains now, what is it going to be like when I get old???" I know I do a lot of crazy things. And I'm pretty much the biggest klutz in the entire world. But ouch!
7) In addition to my knee, my feet also hate me.
8) Hmm...I think it's time to go shoe shopping.
9) Gardening is teaching me patience. Ok, during my lifetime, I have had a lot of opportunities to become a more patient person. But gardening is such a wonderful example of how a little time can pay off. I've never really gardened...at all...before. Unless you count killing a hanging basket every year when I lived in my apartment a few years ago. But it's been an amazing process for me since I moved home. To see the things that I planted a few weeks ago, blossoming into something so beautiful all around me. I feel so blessed to have this experience. I wait all this time. Seeing the once beautiful petals fall to the ground. And I prune the plants back to what seems like nothing. Then all of a sudden, almost over night, they once again blossom into something so beautiful. It's amazing.
10) I would much rather grow flowers than ever buy them from a florist.
11) Knee high by the 4th of July. It's the old standby saying for corn growth. If corn is to a person's knee (though, I see a challenge in this because it may depend on whose knee you're measuring by. There's quite a difference, for example, between the height of my knee from the ground compared to my mother. Me = tall. Mom = short) farmer's are going to have a good crop. Well, this year, I don't think it matters whose knee you measure by. I was driving home last night, late, and even in the dark, I could see that in the couple of days that I was gone, the corn all around my house had proverbially exploded. Holy guacamole!! It's huge!! I'd say this year, it's shoulder high by the 4th of July or bust!!
12) I think it's about time I write down an official bucket list. I've, without trying, created a list in my head. But it's time to put things on paper. Stay tuned.
13) I truly hope that no one pays close attention to me when I travel. Never mind the embarrassing in flight napping. I'm referring specifically to rental cars. Should anyone care to do so, I'm certain they would immediately call the local mental facility, because surely a patient has escaped. I hate rental cars. I always lose them when I'm in a parking lot, because I never remember exactly what the car looks like. And putting gas in the car is always a challenge, because every car is different. A couple of days ago, I spent 10 minutes just trying to get the cap back on the gas tank, because the Passat is so "special." This, after inadvertently popping the hood, instead of the gas cover, because IT WASN'T MARKED. By the way...VW Passat: Worst car ever!
Monday, June 4, 2012
Road Trippin'
I hate driving.
And I'm making up for not having owned a car for 3 and a half years. In 3 and a half weeks.
Ok, so let me re-phrase. I'm really, really, REALLY tired of driving. And God did not see fit to bless me with enough padding to make long road trips comfortable...so I'm investigating getting a cushion for Betty.
One would think that I would be accustomed to long road trips by now. Growing up, we drove EVERYWHERE. Repeated trips to Florida and back. My earliest experiences there I missed half of, because my parents were smart enough to leave in the middle of the night, so my brother and I would sleep through most of it. But apparently that was only half successful, considering I woke up every 30 minutes (Love you mom and dad!). But beyond Florida, there were epic adventures like our two week road trip to Yellowstone and back in my parents Astro Van. My brother refused to get out of the back seat, and would put up a blanket as a partition and would refuse to talk to anyone. I was always cranky because I had to share a bed with my Grandma. And where we visited every Presidential Library we passed, except one (it was pouring rain, and it was on the way home, and no one felt like it). Sorry Mr. Grant.
And then as I got older, the road trips continued. After my first year of college, my parents suggested (forced) my brother and I to spend 8 days together in my Neon. It was supposed to be a nice, relaxing vacation after a stressful year of college. It was really more stress than all 4 years of college put together, and it resulted in my nearly throwing my brother out of the car. While he was driving. Did I mention that, though we're siblings, we don't actually like each other THAT much. But I did buy him an awesome garish orange floppy hat. So I suppose it was mildly successful.
But now I've been doing these long distance trips by myself. And even if my brother refused to talk to someone, there were still, you know, other people around. Every road trip growing up, we would do somewhat cheesy things to pass the time. Like playing the license plate game. And by "game" I really mean, we kept track of all the different state plates we passed, in an attempt to collect all 50 states. And though we came close a few times, I don't remember ever getting all 50 in one shot. But I suppose there is still time. And we'd keep a road trip journal, and record any time we'd pass anything special. Like a cow crossing sign.
So what does one do for 8 hours by yourself...while you're driving? I, fortunately, had a last minute suggestion of downloading episodes of This American Life. So I did, and somehow, that led me to find old radio episodes of Dragnet. And if you haven't listened to one yet, you definitely should. I've never really been a big fan of talk radio, but my opinion has definitely changed. It helps pass the time. And it can be more entertaining that just listening to music all the time. I was even able to figure out that Harry Morgan (Colonel Potter for all you M*A*S*H fans) is not only a character in the old TV episodes of Dragnet, he also appeared on the radio show.
Yes, I am fully aware of my nerdiness.
And even though I'm not really raring to go for another 16 hours solo in my car...I actually think I could get pretty good at this road trip thing. I mean, I'd actually spent more hours in one day biking than I had driving a car, until recently. Granted, my road trip didn't involve tears like my bike ride did. But you try riding a bike for 8 hours pain free.
Anyway you look at it, and whether I want to or not, it seems that I'm going to have plenty of opportunity to practice.
And I'm making up for not having owned a car for 3 and a half years. In 3 and a half weeks.
Ok, so let me re-phrase. I'm really, really, REALLY tired of driving. And God did not see fit to bless me with enough padding to make long road trips comfortable...so I'm investigating getting a cushion for Betty.
One would think that I would be accustomed to long road trips by now. Growing up, we drove EVERYWHERE. Repeated trips to Florida and back. My earliest experiences there I missed half of, because my parents were smart enough to leave in the middle of the night, so my brother and I would sleep through most of it. But apparently that was only half successful, considering I woke up every 30 minutes (Love you mom and dad!). But beyond Florida, there were epic adventures like our two week road trip to Yellowstone and back in my parents Astro Van. My brother refused to get out of the back seat, and would put up a blanket as a partition and would refuse to talk to anyone. I was always cranky because I had to share a bed with my Grandma. And where we visited every Presidential Library we passed, except one (it was pouring rain, and it was on the way home, and no one felt like it). Sorry Mr. Grant.
And then as I got older, the road trips continued. After my first year of college, my parents suggested (forced) my brother and I to spend 8 days together in my Neon. It was supposed to be a nice, relaxing vacation after a stressful year of college. It was really more stress than all 4 years of college put together, and it resulted in my nearly throwing my brother out of the car. While he was driving. Did I mention that, though we're siblings, we don't actually like each other THAT much. But I did buy him an awesome garish orange floppy hat. So I suppose it was mildly successful.
But now I've been doing these long distance trips by myself. And even if my brother refused to talk to someone, there were still, you know, other people around. Every road trip growing up, we would do somewhat cheesy things to pass the time. Like playing the license plate game. And by "game" I really mean, we kept track of all the different state plates we passed, in an attempt to collect all 50 states. And though we came close a few times, I don't remember ever getting all 50 in one shot. But I suppose there is still time. And we'd keep a road trip journal, and record any time we'd pass anything special. Like a cow crossing sign.
So what does one do for 8 hours by yourself...while you're driving? I, fortunately, had a last minute suggestion of downloading episodes of This American Life. So I did, and somehow, that led me to find old radio episodes of Dragnet. And if you haven't listened to one yet, you definitely should. I've never really been a big fan of talk radio, but my opinion has definitely changed. It helps pass the time. And it can be more entertaining that just listening to music all the time. I was even able to figure out that Harry Morgan (Colonel Potter for all you M*A*S*H fans) is not only a character in the old TV episodes of Dragnet, he also appeared on the radio show.
Yes, I am fully aware of my nerdiness.
And even though I'm not really raring to go for another 16 hours solo in my car...I actually think I could get pretty good at this road trip thing. I mean, I'd actually spent more hours in one day biking than I had driving a car, until recently. Granted, my road trip didn't involve tears like my bike ride did. But you try riding a bike for 8 hours pain free.
Anyway you look at it, and whether I want to or not, it seems that I'm going to have plenty of opportunity to practice.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
On The Road Again
I've had a nice reprieve from traveling...a whole 7 weeks. Longer if you don't count moving as a trip.
But now I've been gone for the past couple of weeks, and will leave again tomorrow. But it's ok, because I have a pretty sweet gig. This whole work when you want to, not when you don't want to is definitely the way to go. It helps that I love what I do, love it more, in fact, than I have ever before. Perhaps it's the fact that now I only have this one job to do, instead of 3.
For those of you that have no clue what I do other than the fact that I travel about the country, and people watch in airports, and drink bad hotel coffee...let me give you a brief overview. I teach Preschool Teachers.
It's one of the most rewarding things I have done. It's also, on occasion, a source of great sadness. I figured that out a couple of weeks ago, just how said it can be. I was working with a group of teachers from a small, rural community in Southern Georgia...and they tried so hard to understand what I was giving them. But some of them just couldn't. I felt like I was teaching a group of Grade School age children, but it was more sad, because they were adults.
But at least I figured out why it made me sad. And it's because I care so much about what I do. I want these women to be successful. And I worry for their future, and the future of the children they teach.
Fortunately, not every group is like that. This past week, I was in Wisconsin. And as I predicted, I had the exact opposite experience than I had the previous week. The women I worked with were awesome, and so grateful that I was able to be there, and answer their questions. And it went so well, they've already invited me back next year :)
I don't think I'll mind going back.
The session was in Green Bay.
GREEN BAY!!!
Home of the Packers.
Now, most of the time, at the end of the day, after I've spent 7 hours bouncing off the walls, delivering a session (I'm pure entertainment, with a little knowledge mixed in) I fall onto the bed in the evening, and veg out.
But I was in Green Bay. So, of course, I had to do some sight seeing. And by sight seeing, I mean, I went to Lambeau Field. And took pictures. And called my mother from the parking lot saying "guess where I am!!!" as I bounced around my car.
It was awesome.
In fact, I realized as I was sitting in the parking lot that I have a bucket list. I've never formally put one together before. But I realize I do have one.
Towards the top of the list: Go to a Packers game at Lambeau Field.
It's possible that someone might need to restrain me, because I will literally be bouncing off the walls, the floor, and myself. And that would be without caffeine. But, of course, this is me we're talking about, so of course I would have caffeine. Probably more than I normally do.
Good luck to whoever is fortunate enough to go to that game with me.
Any volunteers?
Anyway, Preschool Teachers are pretty much the nicest people alive. They work with children. Young children. And they don't get paid much. They have to love what they do.
During the middle of my session, which, by the way, was teaching these women, not many who were comfortable with computers, how to use a web-based system. Yup, me, the woman who frequently wants to throw my computer out the window, teaches other people how to use technology. One woman, who had several questions throughout the day, and who I patiently answered each and every time, with a smile on my face no less, had one last question for me: "How many drugs do you take to be able to do this job?" My answer, "none, I just drink a lot of coffee."
That's possibly the best question I've ever been asked during a session.
Speaking of which...I've probably had too much for today. So I'm going to go bounce. Literally.
But now I've been gone for the past couple of weeks, and will leave again tomorrow. But it's ok, because I have a pretty sweet gig. This whole work when you want to, not when you don't want to is definitely the way to go. It helps that I love what I do, love it more, in fact, than I have ever before. Perhaps it's the fact that now I only have this one job to do, instead of 3.
For those of you that have no clue what I do other than the fact that I travel about the country, and people watch in airports, and drink bad hotel coffee...let me give you a brief overview. I teach Preschool Teachers.
It's one of the most rewarding things I have done. It's also, on occasion, a source of great sadness. I figured that out a couple of weeks ago, just how said it can be. I was working with a group of teachers from a small, rural community in Southern Georgia...and they tried so hard to understand what I was giving them. But some of them just couldn't. I felt like I was teaching a group of Grade School age children, but it was more sad, because they were adults.
But at least I figured out why it made me sad. And it's because I care so much about what I do. I want these women to be successful. And I worry for their future, and the future of the children they teach.
Fortunately, not every group is like that. This past week, I was in Wisconsin. And as I predicted, I had the exact opposite experience than I had the previous week. The women I worked with were awesome, and so grateful that I was able to be there, and answer their questions. And it went so well, they've already invited me back next year :)
I don't think I'll mind going back.
The session was in Green Bay.
GREEN BAY!!!
Home of the Packers.
Now, most of the time, at the end of the day, after I've spent 7 hours bouncing off the walls, delivering a session (I'm pure entertainment, with a little knowledge mixed in) I fall onto the bed in the evening, and veg out.
But I was in Green Bay. So, of course, I had to do some sight seeing. And by sight seeing, I mean, I went to Lambeau Field. And took pictures. And called my mother from the parking lot saying "guess where I am!!!" as I bounced around my car.
It was awesome.
In fact, I realized as I was sitting in the parking lot that I have a bucket list. I've never formally put one together before. But I realize I do have one.
Towards the top of the list: Go to a Packers game at Lambeau Field.
It's possible that someone might need to restrain me, because I will literally be bouncing off the walls, the floor, and myself. And that would be without caffeine. But, of course, this is me we're talking about, so of course I would have caffeine. Probably more than I normally do.
Good luck to whoever is fortunate enough to go to that game with me.
Any volunteers?
Anyway, Preschool Teachers are pretty much the nicest people alive. They work with children. Young children. And they don't get paid much. They have to love what they do.
During the middle of my session, which, by the way, was teaching these women, not many who were comfortable with computers, how to use a web-based system. Yup, me, the woman who frequently wants to throw my computer out the window, teaches other people how to use technology. One woman, who had several questions throughout the day, and who I patiently answered each and every time, with a smile on my face no less, had one last question for me: "How many drugs do you take to be able to do this job?" My answer, "none, I just drink a lot of coffee."
That's possibly the best question I've ever been asked during a session.
Speaking of which...I've probably had too much for today. So I'm going to go bounce. Literally.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Driving Lessons
I have been driving for a long time. 20 years, in fact. Ok, you might be looking at that a little cock-eyed, considering I'm still only 30, and the legal driving age in the state of Illinois is still 16. And no, your math is not wrong. I started driving when I was 10. I also almost had my first accident at the age of 10, but was fortunately rescued by Paw.
Not only have I been driving a car for 2/3 of my life, I've been driving a 4-wheeler for 26 years. Yes, at the ripe old age of 4, I started driving a full size ATV by myself. So, the story goes something like this: My dad had come back to the house for some reason, most likely lunch. And he needed a ride back to the field he was working in. My brother, who was 7 at the time, didn't want to go with my dad to drive the 4-wheeler back, but apparently I was willing, so my dad let me. And I lived to tell about it. Or, more appropriately, I lived to re-tell the story, because I don't actually remember this happening, being only 4 and all. But my dad has told me the story often enough that I actually believe him. And every time I get on the 4-wheeler, I am greatly amused at the warning sticker that vehemently states that absolutely no one under the age of 16 is allowed to drive it. Tee hee!
But there has been one form of driving that has eluded me most of my life. Driving a tractor. Yes, I grew up on a farm, where these things were driven all the time, but my chores leaned more towards the cooking and cleaning side of keeping the farm going than actually doing any of the hands on, in the field type of work. I think there might have been a couple of times where I somehow limped a tractor from one side of the driveway to the other...but that's really about it.
A few weeks ago, I was helping my dad change some lights in one of our sheds. I was sitting on the tractor, dad was in the bucket of the loader tractor, which I got to lift up so he could reach the lights. Let's never say that my dad doesn't trust me. And I kinda was able to move it forward and backward a few feet. And when it was time to put it away, I told my dad I wanted to drive it to the other shed. Let's just say, I finally got there. After the tractor died 8 times (not kidding) and I'm pretty sure I never got it out of first gear. But I did finally figure out what this "throttle" thing was that my dad kept telling me about. And how it was used.
It wasn't long after that, I said to the dad "Dad, I want you to teach me how to drive a tractor. I mean, real lessons."
Considering I have a slight proclivity to get the lawn mower stuck in the mud (3 times so far) it might come in handy one of these days. Plus, part of the whole reason for me living here is so I can help out. And help out I shall.
The dad took a deep breathe, and said Ok, but not right now. Then one day a little over a week ago, I was at the mom and dad's house, and the dad and I were doing some work on one of their flower beds, and tearing apart the old well house. And the dad let me drive his awesome, adorable (yes, I really used the term adorable in reference to a tractor...but seriously...you should see it) orange Kubota tractor. Now, as far as tractors go, it's really easy to drive. It's an automatic, and you push on one foot lever to make it go forward, and a different one to make it go back. Easy peasy. However, when I tried the same trick I did with my dad's Impact Driver (I called immediately after using his and said "You have GOT to get me one of these, this is awesome!" and he started checking and found one that matches my drill on clearance, and voila, my very own impact driver) my desire to have a Kubota of my very own didn't seem to go to far. Perhaps it was the slight cost difference between an impact driver and a tractor. Psh.
So now that I have the Kubota handled...it's time to move up in the world. I'm now learning how to drive the 656, which is the one that I killed 8 times moving across the driveway. It's the one that my dad hooks the auger wagon up to to load beans into the planter. My job has been to sit on the tractor, and move it slightly forward or back so the auger will hover directly over the appropriate receptacle. No big thing. But I'm working my way up. Yesterday afternoon, I got to move it from behind the planter, off to the side of the field. In second gear, no less. And then, at the end of the day yesterday, after doing a magnificent performance moving it forward and backward 1 foot in either direction appropriately, dad let me drive it from the field all the way back to the house. All by myself. And then, this morning, I got to drive it to the field, and back. Still no accidents. But I'm still learning.
In fact, in the middle of writing this post, I had to go help dad again. And I learned what the brakes are, and how to use them appropriately.
Whodathunkit?
Brakes...useful??? This is me we're talking about. The one who isn't allowed to learn how to put the lawn mower into high gear. The one who was told that 4th gear was fast enough, when clearly there is a 5th gear! It should be used!!! Especially by me...at some point.
I digress. I may joke a bit about the whole tractor thing. But really, I am absolutely in awe of them. These beastly machines that can move about with near ballet like precision.
When I took the tractor to the field this morning, I got to watch my dad plant the field for a little while. A couple of years ago, my dad and his cousin bought a new planter together. The first time I saw it in person, I literally was stuck in place, jaw on the floor, in utter amazement of this...thing. The main reason is...well...it's massive.
Now that I've actually seen this thing in motion, I'm even more in awe.
The beast looks something like this:
It's massive. And to be able to drive it down the road, it has to fold up, sideways. To say the least, it makes a bit of a statement going down the road. Even now, the mere thought of dad backing this thing into the shed makes me a little dumbstruck. Of course, when I said something to dad about it, he was like "meh, it's no big deal really." That's the dad.
But back to this morning. Watching it go through the field, and execute near perfect pivot turns, the likes of which we were never able to really perfect back in my marching band days, is incredible. And of course, the dad makes it look so easy to do.
I don't know, maybe part of it is the fact that I'm and English Major (one who just had a hard time doing the math to figure out I've been out of college for 9 years...don't ask) and the engineering part of things that goes into building one of these is simply so foreign, I just can't image it. But somehow, some incredibly smart person out there built it, and figured out how to make it work. And that makes me glad that I really am an English Major, because I'm pretty sure I'd never have been able to come up with something like that.
I'm also fairly certain that it's intimidating enough that I'll never ask dad if I can ever drive the tractor that pulls this thing.
I'm sure he's glad for that fact.
But for now, the on the job training continues.
Not only have I been driving a car for 2/3 of my life, I've been driving a 4-wheeler for 26 years. Yes, at the ripe old age of 4, I started driving a full size ATV by myself. So, the story goes something like this: My dad had come back to the house for some reason, most likely lunch. And he needed a ride back to the field he was working in. My brother, who was 7 at the time, didn't want to go with my dad to drive the 4-wheeler back, but apparently I was willing, so my dad let me. And I lived to tell about it. Or, more appropriately, I lived to re-tell the story, because I don't actually remember this happening, being only 4 and all. But my dad has told me the story often enough that I actually believe him. And every time I get on the 4-wheeler, I am greatly amused at the warning sticker that vehemently states that absolutely no one under the age of 16 is allowed to drive it. Tee hee!
But there has been one form of driving that has eluded me most of my life. Driving a tractor. Yes, I grew up on a farm, where these things were driven all the time, but my chores leaned more towards the cooking and cleaning side of keeping the farm going than actually doing any of the hands on, in the field type of work. I think there might have been a couple of times where I somehow limped a tractor from one side of the driveway to the other...but that's really about it.
A few weeks ago, I was helping my dad change some lights in one of our sheds. I was sitting on the tractor, dad was in the bucket of the loader tractor, which I got to lift up so he could reach the lights. Let's never say that my dad doesn't trust me. And I kinda was able to move it forward and backward a few feet. And when it was time to put it away, I told my dad I wanted to drive it to the other shed. Let's just say, I finally got there. After the tractor died 8 times (not kidding) and I'm pretty sure I never got it out of first gear. But I did finally figure out what this "throttle" thing was that my dad kept telling me about. And how it was used.
It wasn't long after that, I said to the dad "Dad, I want you to teach me how to drive a tractor. I mean, real lessons."
Considering I have a slight proclivity to get the lawn mower stuck in the mud (3 times so far) it might come in handy one of these days. Plus, part of the whole reason for me living here is so I can help out. And help out I shall.
The dad took a deep breathe, and said Ok, but not right now. Then one day a little over a week ago, I was at the mom and dad's house, and the dad and I were doing some work on one of their flower beds, and tearing apart the old well house. And the dad let me drive his awesome, adorable (yes, I really used the term adorable in reference to a tractor...but seriously...you should see it) orange Kubota tractor. Now, as far as tractors go, it's really easy to drive. It's an automatic, and you push on one foot lever to make it go forward, and a different one to make it go back. Easy peasy. However, when I tried the same trick I did with my dad's Impact Driver (I called immediately after using his and said "You have GOT to get me one of these, this is awesome!" and he started checking and found one that matches my drill on clearance, and voila, my very own impact driver) my desire to have a Kubota of my very own didn't seem to go to far. Perhaps it was the slight cost difference between an impact driver and a tractor. Psh.
So now that I have the Kubota handled...it's time to move up in the world. I'm now learning how to drive the 656, which is the one that I killed 8 times moving across the driveway. It's the one that my dad hooks the auger wagon up to to load beans into the planter. My job has been to sit on the tractor, and move it slightly forward or back so the auger will hover directly over the appropriate receptacle. No big thing. But I'm working my way up. Yesterday afternoon, I got to move it from behind the planter, off to the side of the field. In second gear, no less. And then, at the end of the day yesterday, after doing a magnificent performance moving it forward and backward 1 foot in either direction appropriately, dad let me drive it from the field all the way back to the house. All by myself. And then, this morning, I got to drive it to the field, and back. Still no accidents. But I'm still learning.
In fact, in the middle of writing this post, I had to go help dad again. And I learned what the brakes are, and how to use them appropriately.
Whodathunkit?
Brakes...useful??? This is me we're talking about. The one who isn't allowed to learn how to put the lawn mower into high gear. The one who was told that 4th gear was fast enough, when clearly there is a 5th gear! It should be used!!! Especially by me...at some point.
I digress. I may joke a bit about the whole tractor thing. But really, I am absolutely in awe of them. These beastly machines that can move about with near ballet like precision.
When I took the tractor to the field this morning, I got to watch my dad plant the field for a little while. A couple of years ago, my dad and his cousin bought a new planter together. The first time I saw it in person, I literally was stuck in place, jaw on the floor, in utter amazement of this...thing. The main reason is...well...it's massive.
Now that I've actually seen this thing in motion, I'm even more in awe.
The beast looks something like this:
 |
| Photo courtesy of Farm Industry News |
But back to this morning. Watching it go through the field, and execute near perfect pivot turns, the likes of which we were never able to really perfect back in my marching band days, is incredible. And of course, the dad makes it look so easy to do.
I don't know, maybe part of it is the fact that I'm and English Major (one who just had a hard time doing the math to figure out I've been out of college for 9 years...don't ask) and the engineering part of things that goes into building one of these is simply so foreign, I just can't image it. But somehow, some incredibly smart person out there built it, and figured out how to make it work. And that makes me glad that I really am an English Major, because I'm pretty sure I'd never have been able to come up with something like that.
I'm also fairly certain that it's intimidating enough that I'll never ask dad if I can ever drive the tractor that pulls this thing.
I'm sure he's glad for that fact.
But for now, the on the job training continues.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Plan B
It's every hostesses worst nightmare. It's 5pm, and the pork shoulder that I have been slaving over a hot crock pot all day to make...isn't cooked. And my guests are supposed to arrive at 5:30. Their mouths have been watering for pulled pork all day long.
This is exactly the type of scenario Home Ec in the 1950's prepared women for. Whew.
Except I didn't take Home Ec in the 1950's. I took Home Ec in the 90's. After women started wearing shoulder pads. So all I really learned what to do in class was how to (poorly) sew a dress. Albeit, those skills came in handy when I sold sewing machines for a couple of years. But that's little help when I have no decent food to serve the 4, hungry family members that are coming to dinner.
I begin to panic. I'm supposed to be the perfect hostess. I'm all done up in my little black...t-shirt. I actually brushed my hair. So I didn't put any make-up on, but I promise, I had a good reason. I've, err, had some, uh, skin iss...Ok, I just didn't feel like putting any make-up on.
Then I realize I'm not an hysteric. So I defrost some chicken, and get the grill out. I throw the green beans in the saute pan, cut up the potatoes. And we're back in the game. Except when I shook up the potatoes, you know, to get a good coat of oil all over them, I got twacked (yes, that is the technical term for what happened) in the face with a couple of pieces. Apparently I did a poor job of sealing the zip loc bag.
But it's ok. I wash my face (remember, no make up. Smart cookie, I am) and reseal the bag, and go back to shaking. Throw the potatoes in the oven, on my newly purchased no-stick foil, and head outside to light the grill.
Once outside, I realize that it's a bazillion degrees outside. Ok, so it was actually in the 80's. But I was wearing a black t-shirt (maybe I'm not so smart) and standing over a hot grill. So it feels like it's a bazillion degrees outside. Sweat is poring off my face. Again, I'm glad I didn't waste time applying make-up, because it would certainly be gone by now. Or even better, making me look scarier than a sad clown on a dreary night.
Things are going well. The chicken is cooking beautifully. The potatoes are well on their way to being crisp, golden deliciousness. And the green beans have a yum-tastic looking char on them. No seriously, my beans are amazing. Trust me.
Then I go outside to flip the chicken. And then back out again to see how things are going. And the chicken isn't cooking so beautifully anymore. I check the grill. The pint size propane tank on my smaller than my toolbox grill has run out.
Awesome.
I make the quick switch, and we're (I hope) back in the game.
And the family arrives. I immediately turn my tongs over to the dad, and give the family members that haven't been to my house in the last 10 years a tour. Make sure dinner hasn't completely burned. Pose for a picture or two (events at my house are apparently world renowned events where I just can't keep the paparazzi out. And by paparazzi, I really mean my cousin, Earl.) And then dinner is ready.
Deep breathe.
Chicken.
Potatoes.
Green Beans.
Cole Slaw.
Whew. It's all here. And better yet, it all tastes good. But even better than that, I get to spend an evening hanging out with the family, who fortunately love me no matter how many errors occurred during the evening. But no blood was drawn, so I'm still calling the evening a success.
And the pork eventually finished cooking, and smells amazing (the recipe - see below - is definitely a keeper) and now there's less work to do for Sunday dinner!! Woohoo!!
Seriously...you should really try this recipe. It's not just a "throw everything in the crock pot and let it cook all day" type of pork, like other recipes I have tried. But the effort is totally worth it. Just be careful with the onions, I ended up crying for an hour after cutting them up.
Courtesy of EatingWell.com:
Nutrition Bonus: Zinc (31% daily value), Vitamin C (17% dv)
Carbohydrate Servings: 1 1/2
Exchanges: 1 1/2 carbohydrate (other), 3 medium fat meat
This is exactly the type of scenario Home Ec in the 1950's prepared women for. Whew.
Except I didn't take Home Ec in the 1950's. I took Home Ec in the 90's. After women started wearing shoulder pads. So all I really learned what to do in class was how to (poorly) sew a dress. Albeit, those skills came in handy when I sold sewing machines for a couple of years. But that's little help when I have no decent food to serve the 4, hungry family members that are coming to dinner.
I begin to panic. I'm supposed to be the perfect hostess. I'm all done up in my little black...t-shirt. I actually brushed my hair. So I didn't put any make-up on, but I promise, I had a good reason. I've, err, had some, uh, skin iss...Ok, I just didn't feel like putting any make-up on.
Then I realize I'm not an hysteric. So I defrost some chicken, and get the grill out. I throw the green beans in the saute pan, cut up the potatoes. And we're back in the game. Except when I shook up the potatoes, you know, to get a good coat of oil all over them, I got twacked (yes, that is the technical term for what happened) in the face with a couple of pieces. Apparently I did a poor job of sealing the zip loc bag.
But it's ok. I wash my face (remember, no make up. Smart cookie, I am) and reseal the bag, and go back to shaking. Throw the potatoes in the oven, on my newly purchased no-stick foil, and head outside to light the grill.
Once outside, I realize that it's a bazillion degrees outside. Ok, so it was actually in the 80's. But I was wearing a black t-shirt (maybe I'm not so smart) and standing over a hot grill. So it feels like it's a bazillion degrees outside. Sweat is poring off my face. Again, I'm glad I didn't waste time applying make-up, because it would certainly be gone by now. Or even better, making me look scarier than a sad clown on a dreary night.
Things are going well. The chicken is cooking beautifully. The potatoes are well on their way to being crisp, golden deliciousness. And the green beans have a yum-tastic looking char on them. No seriously, my beans are amazing. Trust me.
Then I go outside to flip the chicken. And then back out again to see how things are going. And the chicken isn't cooking so beautifully anymore. I check the grill. The pint size propane tank on my smaller than my toolbox grill has run out.
Awesome.
I make the quick switch, and we're (I hope) back in the game.
And the family arrives. I immediately turn my tongs over to the dad, and give the family members that haven't been to my house in the last 10 years a tour. Make sure dinner hasn't completely burned. Pose for a picture or two (events at my house are apparently world renowned events where I just can't keep the paparazzi out. And by paparazzi, I really mean my cousin, Earl.) And then dinner is ready.
Deep breathe.
Chicken.
Potatoes.
Green Beans.
Cole Slaw.
Whew. It's all here. And better yet, it all tastes good. But even better than that, I get to spend an evening hanging out with the family, who fortunately love me no matter how many errors occurred during the evening. But no blood was drawn, so I'm still calling the evening a success.
And the pork eventually finished cooking, and smells amazing (the recipe - see below - is definitely a keeper) and now there's less work to do for Sunday dinner!! Woohoo!!
Seriously...you should really try this recipe. It's not just a "throw everything in the crock pot and let it cook all day" type of pork, like other recipes I have tried. But the effort is totally worth it. Just be careful with the onions, I ended up crying for an hour after cutting them up.
Courtesy of EatingWell.com:
Ingredients
- 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
- 3 large onions, thinly sliced
- 1/3 cup raw cane sugar, such as Demerara or turbinado (see Notes)
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 teaspoon dried oregano
- 1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/3 cup cider vinegar
- 1 cup chili sauce, such as Heinz
- 1 1/2-3 teaspoons minced chipotle chile in adobo sauce (see Notes)
- 3 pounds boneless pork shoulder or blade (butt) roast, trimmed
Preparation
- Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until they begin to soften, 3 to 6 minutes. Add sugar and continue to cook, stirring constantly, until the onions are golden brown, 6 to 8 minutes more. Add garlic, oregano, pepper and salt and cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Add vinegar and bring to a boil. Cook until mostly evaporated, 30 seconds to 1 minute. Remove from the heat and stir in chili sauce and chipotle to taste.
- Place pork in a 4-quart (or larger) slow cooker and cover with the sauce. Cover and cook until the pork is almost falling apart, about 4 hours on High or 8 hours on Low.
- Transfer the pork to a cutting board and shred using two forks. Stir back into the sauce.
- Variation: Turn 3 cups leftover pulled pork into Pulled-Pork Torta. Preheat oven to 375°F. Coat a deep-dish pie pan or other 9-inch round baking dish with cooking spray. Heat 3 cups finely shredded Pulled Pork with Caramelized Onions (including sauce) just until warm. Drain one 14-ounce can no-added-salt diced tomatoes (reserve juice); combine with 1/4 cup diced Spanish-style chorizo (see Note) or pepperoni in a bowl. Mix well. Spread about 1/2 cup of the mixture in the prepared pan to cover the bottom. Top with one 8-inch flour tortilla (preferably whole-wheat). Spoon one-third of the remaining mixture over the tortilla. Top with another tortilla. Repeat twice, topping with a fourth tortilla. Drizzle the reserved tomato juice over the top and cover with foil. Bake for 20 minutes. Remove the foil, sprinkle 3/4 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese on top and continue baking until the cheese is melted and the torta is bubbly, about 20 minutes more. Let cool for 10 minutes. Serve sprinkled with 1/4 cup each finely chopped scallions and chopped fresh cilantro, if desired.
Tips & Notes
- Make Ahead Tip: Prepare through Step 1, cover and refrigerate for up to 2 days. To finish, bring the sauce to a simmer and continue with Steps 2 & 3. The cooked pork can be refrigerated for up to 3 days. | Equipment: 4-quart or larger slow cooker
- Notes: Raw cane sugar (such as Sugar in the Raw) is steam-cleaned, coarse-grained and light brown in color, with a slight molasses flavor. Find it in the natural-foods section of large supermarkets or at natural-foods stores.
- Chipotle chiles in adobo sauce are smoked jalapeños packed in a flavorful sauce. Look for the small cans with Mexican foods at large supermarkets. Once opened, they’ll keep up to 2 weeks in the refrigerator or 6 months in the freezer.
- Note: Spanish-style chorizo is a seasoned, fully cooked smoked pork sausage. Find it near other cured sausages in well-stocked super markets or online at tienda.com.
Nutrition
Per serving (without bun): 358 calories; 18 g fat ( 6 g sat , 9 g mono ); 90 mg cholesterol; 18 g carbohydrates; 9 g added sugars; 25 g protein; 3 g fiber; 664 mg sodium; 510 mg potassium.Nutrition Bonus: Zinc (31% daily value), Vitamin C (17% dv)
Carbohydrate Servings: 1 1/2
Exchanges: 1 1/2 carbohydrate (other), 3 medium fat meat
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