The pre-30 Birthday

This past weekend I turned 29. I don't much care for odd numbers, but 29 seems to have some dignity to it. In honor of the birthday, I posted a new profile pic, actually taken on the day itself.

The birthday day was low key, but I realized it was all about why I moved here. In the morning/afternoon I babysat my nephew while his parents were at a funeral. It wasn't a great reason to be babysitting, but it was a great time. I'd love to go on and on about the cute kid things, but I'm sure that would be boring. So just one--we were playing basketball in his room, and I pretended to fall over. He has a strange penchant for pretending to snore, so I decided to lay down on his floor and pretend snore. As I did this he walked over to his crib, pulled his blankie out from between the slats, and put it on me. Then he shut off the light, said "go nigh nigh" and closed the door. Hilarious!

After babysitting, I went out to dinner and ate amazing food with my parents. I did miss birthday calls from some dear friends while we were out, but I was super thankful to have heard from them.

It was a different birthday than the last few years, but good. For the big 30 I'm thinking maybe a Mexican vacation is in order.

Easter Church

(Rant) I hate Easter church. There, I've said it. It may be sacrilegious, or blasphemous, or whatever, but I do not like church on Easter. Give me a Good Friday or a Maundy Thursday service any day.

Easter church makes me benout for a few reasons. First, it's a bunch of new people, mostly strangers, and it makes me very self-conscious. I have just been getting comfortable at my new church, recognizing faces, and suddenly this past Sunday I was surrounded by people I've never seen before, and it made me very nervous.

Second, the pastors have to over-explain everything. Instead of just pronouncing the benediction, the pastor explains how he is going to pronounce the benediction. Instead of just greeting one another and passing the peace, we have to go through how to do it.

The teaching of church ritual itself wouldn't bother me, if it weren't for the next part. At least this past Easter church, the people who were there didn't want to participate in the liturgy. After the pastor explained that we would greet each other saying "He is risen" and replying with "He is risen indeed," some very nervous people around me muttered a quick good morning and tried to sit down as quickly as possible. Okay, I get it, I hate the greeting too, but play along at least.

The same thing happens with the Lord's prayer...People start out strong with "Our Father, who are in heaven..." and then it's just mutter, mutter, mutter....

So okay, if you only come to church a few times a year you're not used to the conventions, you don't know the creeds and confessions and prayers, fine. All of that I can understand. But, at the very end of the service last Sunday the choir sang the Hallelujah Chorus. And many of the people around me were talking out loud. Talking? During the Hallelujah Chorus? It took all my willpower not to hush them.

I know, if I were a good evangelical I'd be happy to see so many new people at church. But honestly, I think the best church services are the lesser attended...any small service, a night service, Super Bowl Sunday service, whatever.

In case there's someone I haven't offended yet with my idea that Easter church is only for churchgoers, let me offer another Easter gem--a David Sedaris story about Easter. Basically, David Sedaris is awesome. And thanks to a friend of a friend for the link.

Shakespeare in South Dakota

It's been a strange week. Things have felt just unexpected and out of place. On Sunday my sister-in-law's grandmother had an aneurism, and it happened while her whole family was at the grandma's house for coffee. My brother came to join our family for dinner, and when he walked in he told us they had just airlifted her grandmother to the hospital. He'd taken my nephew's coat off, gone in to say hello, and by then the grandmother's face had all drooped on one side. On Tuesday, she died.

My parents and I went to the hospital Tuesday night to see my sister-in-law's family, but we didn't know that her grandma had passed on. We made our way to the ICU, and found another family from the small town we're from in the waiting room. There's a guy, younger than me, who has a rare blood disease and has been battling near death for days now.

I've never had anyone close to me die, I still have all four of my grandparents. I remember in grade school when my neighbor died in a car accident, but I didn't know her well enough to grieve. I just have gruesome memories of seeing some blond hair hanging on a shard of windshield when we saw her car. It's strange that I saw the car, as I was probably only four or so, but in a small town the grotesque can be normal.

So I don't really have anything to say about death, or what it feels like. I'm not really sure what I do want to say. It's something like I'm in awe of the profound connection the living find with one another in the midst of death, but that seems too detached. Saying something about beauty in pain is too cliche. So I don't know. It's been a strange week that way.

Somewhat unrelated, but perhaps a good sermon metaphor if I were a pastor, would be that I traveled for work today to a few tiny little towns in central South Dakota. One of them, population 1,100, had a Shakespeare Garden and an Anne Hathaway house with a thatched roof. I drove to it after visiting the high school, where when I left the kids were all dismissed to walk home for lunch since they don't have a hot lunch program.

Not surprisingly, the Anne Hathaway house is the only thatched roof dwelling in South Dakota. I don't know anything about thatch, but I would imagine it's hard to maintain in the winters here. I couldn't go inside, as it's staff by volunteers and only in the summer from 1-5pm, but I was invited by a sign to walk through the "Shakespeare Garden."

For those of you not familiar with gardens in SD in the winter, it was a winding path of brick, bordered on each side by frozen black soil, with some twigs scattered around. Today was also a very grey day, in anticipation of the (Lord willing) last snow of the season, so the Shakespeare Garden was none too compelling.

It's a great idea, but I cannot imagine why it still exists in this town. According to the website, it's main function is to serve as a site for English tea, a rarity in South Dakota to say the least.
So as odd as it was, it made an otherwise average day much more intriguing.

Congratulations

to Sara and Jeff on their little baby!!!

Um......

There are so many things wrong with this photo. My dad forwarded it to me today, and it's from 1988, in case you couldn't figure that out from the sweet mullet I'm sporting. What was my mom thinking?

I was also at a Boston Red Sox game. I can't say I remember it at all, but I was obviously enjoying a darn good Coke that I couldn't put down even for the picture. I was also not so concerned about skin cancer, as it appears.

This was a blast from the past I just couldn't resist posting. Anyone want to guess who the stranger is in the picture? (The guy behind me is my dad).

Okay, if you ever go and see Ang and Ryan, you HAVE to see/hear their little girl growl. I can't really describe it, but it might be called something like absolutely adorable, hilarious, gremlin. Seriously, it's awesome.

The lack of posting lately can be attributed to, well, a mystery. Whatever has been plaguing my GI system is unidentifiable, except for its symptoms. The doctor is baffled by the CT results and a high white blood cell count, and I am immensely thankful for feeling well the last few days. After a few rounds of highly disorienting and nauseating drugs, I'm glad to be free of them, despite the understanding that I'm not really sure what's wrong with me.

So, a trip to a specialist, with the possibility of a highly undignified colonoscopy, awaits. It's not glamorous, but it does make me extremely grateful for health insurance. When I was without for a few months this summer I worried a little, but thinking about the costs of all the tests I've had recently, and may need soon, I can't imagine having to deal with the financial burden without insurance. Which makes me even more thankful that there may be healthcare reform on the horizon...I hope.

I find the political situation rather now really annoying, seeing as how I am very impatient, and am still waiting for the Obama shirt I ordered a while ago to arrive. I resolved the 5 shirts instead of 1 issue with my bank, sorry if that disappointed any of you.

Local politicians are once again raising the abortion ban flag, and I'm really struggling with it. I'm wondering if you can want something to be legal that you think is morally wrong and that you disagree with. Debates like this seem to foster so much hate, while it seems like more attention on sex education and prevention of unwanted pregnancies would be less divisive and more compassionate. I don't know...I'm still thinking about this one.

On a more random note, the medications I was on gave me very vivid dreams, which was also listed as a side effect along with suicidal thoughts, and something about murder... Anyway, I had one dream where my friends bought a condo. in a mall (awesome), and another where I went back to teaching and felt totally and completely fulfilled. That was weird.

So I'm back. Just in time for sun, which is good because I have been missing CA and my friends there intensely. At least some sun here gives me the hope of spring. Today I rediscovered my lawn, and all the snow melted off of my roof. O happy day.

I.........simply...........refuse......to......scoop
.......the..........driveway...........anymore.

IT'S MARCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pray that it stops soon, or I may be snowed in...

Sometimes, you just want your mom

When you're sick, there's nothing more comforting than your mom. And my mom is awesome, especially when I'm sick. This weekend the infection, or whatever it is that I had a few weeks ago, came back. And it was fierce. Fiercer than Christian on Project Runway. :)

I spent pretty much all day Sat. and Sun. on the couch in pain, and Sun. with a fever. Once again, bless PBS and their "House" series, with Regency House Party and Colonial House keeping me in good company. Sun. I also had a fever, which was lovely. Mon. I finally went in, and apparently I was more messed up than I thought. The doctor did a white blood cell count, and mine was almost double what it should be. I got nervous when he said "Well, I don't think it's quite high enough to put you in the hospital yet." I didn't quite know that was an option....

But he did send me to the hospital, for a CAT scan. I waited three hours, lost between the day and evening shift, and watched people being wheeled through the radiology center. The hardest to see was a little girl, maybe 3 or 4, wheeled through in a red plastic wagon. There were also orderlies, one who seemed to push the same empty bed by about ever 15 minutes. After the first hour there was also a TV to call my own, and episodes of COPS and Flavor of Love to occupy the time. Not that I wasn't enjoying it....who doesn't want to sit in a hospital waiting room for three hours when they feel awful? Also, I think you all should know that Flave LOVES reindeers.

Finally I did get my CAT scan, which was wild. It felt a lot like I imagine Mike TV felt in the Willy Wonka movie. Only I wore my normal clothes, no white suit, and I had a contrast solution in my veins. That was probably the weirdest part, because it makes you feel like you're going to pee your pants, but you don't. That, and realizing the liquid in the crease of my elbow was actually blood escaping from the IV. Gross.

CAT scan done, I came home and tried to sleep, though there wasn't much sleep to be had, as insomnia came with the stronger antibiotics. Another trip to the doctor, and no real results, other than "infection." One of my cats is also curiously ill at the same time, and my mom put two and two together and realized that me and the cat might be passing a bacteria between us.

Now I think that being sick simultaneously with my cat may be the ultimate predictor that I am destined to become a crazy cat lady. Or chalk it up to those crazy cephalosporins that kill off all the good little creatures in your body who fight for you. Who knows. Anyway, the point is that my mom rocks, and she brought me Gatorade yesterday, and crackers, and cleaned my house. There is nothing better than your mom when you're sick.

Aggressive Hospitality

I may have mentioned it before, but my "first friend" at church is someone who demonstrates aggressive hospitality. It started my first day there with an invasion of personal space, and a two-handed handshake. You know the kind...they're literally clasping your hands in theirs, with the gravity of someone shaking your hand after your mother died.

After the hand shaking, she also wanted to sit with me in church, and invited me to come to an advent activity, which I only learned later was a children's activity where I would be corralled into being "a mom for the night."

Given her background of well-meaning, but in my opinion, aggressive hospitality, I was a little concerned about being invited over for a "dinner for six." She told me they were 1 person short of the Presbyterian church required six, and I said yes. I couldn't be sure it wasn't a set up of some kind, but when I saw the table I knew it was the real deal.

I've said it before, but no one puts together a beige meal like a Midwesterner. There was corn in a buttery sauce, pork roast, cole slaw (only minor hints of green and orange), barley, and brown bread. It was the perfect palette...nothing too strong, spicy, or seasoned. This was the real thing people.

Surprisingly, at least to me, it turned out to be a great evening. Despite the bland food, the conversation was good. We were all very different, but we got along. I didn't get away without hugging the hostess, but at least it wasn't while we were holding hands.

Posts without pictures get boring, so here's one with a picture of a city I used to live in.

Don't be deluded though, it has nothing to do with what I'm going to write. Just something to look at.

Work is still frustrating. Actually, thinking about it has been consuming me lately. I'm beginning to lose faith in the organization I work for. Having read some reports about its effectiveness, I'm not quite as gung ho. I'm definitely thinking carefully about it all.

Also, the Midwest is still very nice. In fact, at the grocery store tonight there was a note next to the bananas, apologizing for the price sign, which was .78 a pound. I know that's more than double what they usually are, but does your grocery store write a note about it? This was a 3-4 line note, explaining something about the shortage of bananas in Ecuador, and how it would be probably 3 weeks or so before the price goes back down, and thank you for waiting. What nice people.

Tomorrow night I'm going to a church dinner. My "first friend," a double hand holding greeter, invited me to her house along with some other people from church. There's even a name, it's called a "Dinner for Six" because you invite six people and it starts at six. Clever, no? I'm bringing a cake, seeing as how there was mucho frosting left over after my mom's birthday, due to the fact that I didn't realize I bought a 32 ounce bag of powdered sugar, instead of 16. This does give me a place to use it.

Lately I've been watching the PBS "House" series, it's like The Real World for the NPR crowd. My latest, and probably favorite, was Manor House. They put a family, and a whole slew of people acting as servants, in this giant manor house, and watch them interact. The father is a hate-able villain, insisting that the social order works and that he is kind to the servants. His wife seems pretty much oblivious, and the servants their asses off day and night to serve the family. It's definitely a great series. I've also recently seen 1900s House, 1940s House, and Frontier House, all of which were good in their own special ways.

Defeated

I've been trying to blog more about topics lately, but tonight I just can't. So this is one of those self-indulgent, all about me posts. Deal with it.

It's been a rough couple of weeks at work. Okay, to be honest, there have been a few nights I feel so defeated I come home in tears. It's not that my work has changed, or that it's gotten harder. I still have the same job--to recruit kids for an education and vocational training program. Only right now there are no kids. I've been working my butt off, doing outreach to schools, organizations, etc., and the well is dry. Meanwhile, my coworker who doesn't do outreach because she has a bunch of supervisory duties, has an avalanche of kids calling her. It sucks.

And frankly, I've never felt this bad at a job. It probably sounds snotty and arrogant, and frankly I don't care right now, but I've always been good at my job. Maybe not excellent, but good. And I have never thought about the possibility of being fired from a job. Not that I'm at that stage yet, hopefully, but it feels like it is a distinct possibility. I've started wondering if they would take me back at Schmells Bargo.

Just as I have been feeling like the least competent employee, my boss has decided to send weekly team reports, so we can see who the current "rock star" is. Guess who it's not this month? That's right, it's me! Everyone else has bunches of kids who are wanting to go. When I look at the list I've gotten mean, hoping that everybody else's kids drop out or get kicked out of the program right away for drugs or something. I hate that...I know it's only because I'm fiercely competitive and hate being at the bottom.

Writing about it helps, so if you've read this big whine all the way through, thanks.

The 5 to 10 Year Plan

I was talking to a friend a few years back, and she and her husband had a very detailed, year by year travel plan. I thought it was a little much, but she was a very detailed, planned out person at the time.

In the last few months though it's started to make sense. Actually, it started to make sense when my boss introduced the idea of a "minute goal" during a conference call. I thought the idea was totally stupid, a Successories backed motivational minute. But I started thinking about it...irritated as I was with being forced to write down a goal on paper to "take me to the next level."

Often the only way I can get rid of something that is irritating me, like this goal-setting exercise, is to pinpoint exactly what is bothering me about it. While I was trying to do that, I realized that part of the reason I've never really liked having goals is I never knew where I wanted to go.

And writing that leaves me with a dilemma. Do I say I now have it all figured out, and publicly declare my goals so that they must be adhered to? Or do I say I still don't know, but the journey is half the fun? (Picture that on a mug)

To be honest, it's a little of both. I have some broad strokes figured out, and it makes me feel better. It helps put what I'm doing now in perspective, but like with the less TV weeknights, I'm no pharisee. If it's Project Runway night, I'm watching it. If there's a move or job or something else in the future, I'll go for it.

Buffalo shot, killed after escaping from meat locker

I could not make this up. Beware, visitors, Sioux Falls is the city of loose animals.

Pardon the slight interruption

So last week I was all into the routine of less TV evenings, and thoroughly enjoying it, much more than I had thought I might. However, it was not to last...

(this may get a little gory)

Apparently, and I did not know this before, antibiotics can work too well. So the medication I took for a sinus infection overworked its magic, and ended up starting an intestinal bacterial battle royale. Unbeknownst to me until Saturday, the good guys lost, and the evil bacteria took over to rule the kingdom.

So evil bacteria were holding court, and I could do little else but lay on the couch and every so often run to the bathroom. Somehow silence and quiet were not so appealing. Luckily for me, less TV weeknights meant that TiVo had many good offerings, and combined with the PBS "House" series (1900s House, Frontier House, 1940s House, etc.), I was kept good and entertained.

Normally you'd probably think something like this might last 24 hours, or maybe two days at the most...but here it is, Wed., and I'm just starting to feel better, thanks to the power of another, stronger, anti-evil bacteria antibiotic. The downfall? Insomnia. So tonight it's powerful evil bacteria fighting antibiotic and a sleeping pill. A glass of wine would have been a good way to wind down, but I guess that combined with this antibiotic equals death.

Other than being a wee bit ill, I can't come up with a coherent topic to write about tonight. I'm thinking about a lot...I liked hearing about people's 5 or 10 year plans (mostly about not having one). I'm thinking a lot lately about where I want to be in 5 or 10 years...at least in broad strokes.

Also, a high school guy from here drowned in a pool over the weekend. I guess he and some friends were delayed on a plane trip and ended up spending the night in Minneapolis. They picked up some girls from college, got drunk, and one of the guys was found dead in the bottom of the pool. It's been interesting watching the local paper because they seem to be trying to be very nice about it all, although the commenters are not necessarily so nice. I do wonder where they find the time to post comments over and over again.

Curious

I'm curious--do any of you have a 5 or 10 year plan? If you do, what kinds of things does it include?

Mamaville

In college I took a writing class that I absolutely loved. We read essays, wrote, and got to criticise each other's writing. That was my favorite part...cruel as it may seem, I loved dissecting other people's writing and figuring out how to make it better. It never struck me that the criticism would be taken personally....calloused, I guess.

Near the end of the semester we had got to choose our own topic to write on. I chose to write an essay about motherhood. I can't remember any of the other essays I wrote for that class, but this one I do because I got a lower grade on it. The professor said, and rightly so, that it didn't tie together. My thoughts were going in an interesting direction, but there was no cohesion.

It was true, and still is. I've said this to my close friends, always a little afraid of how it sounds, but I just don't get wanting to have a baby. Usually I continue with the fact that I don't have anything against it, I just don't feel any pull towards it. I don't know what that maternal instinct is, at this point in life I just don't have it. But it continues to come up....growing up in a town where you have kids as a matter of course, where it seem like it's just on the list to check off after getting married, I'd really like to understand why people have children. To what end?

I can't say that I know that desire any more now than I did in college. But I think I do understand it more. I'm at that stage in life where people are having babies, thinking about babies, or trying to have babies. Six years ago when I graduated I never considered that I'd be talking to friends about their miscarriages, or their seemingly in vain attempts to get pregnant. I had no idea I'd be going to baby showers for people I actually like, and getting to hold babies I really want to hold and play with.

But the part that sticks with me the most is the pain and loss. It's incredibly hard to see someone go through it, but it's shown me that for something like childbearing to hold such incredible weight in people's lives, it must be a central part of being human.

I still don't really get it, and I still don't know the desire to mother, but in a small way I understand it better.

Can I have my "A" now?

All things ridiculous

Dear readers, I'm writing you from a rural SD library, somewhere very far away. I'm on my lunch break, and sick of driving the 30mph it's taking to not slide off the road.

So a few quick thoughts. Though I don't want to be in the office on Valentine's Day, I don't necessarily hate it. What I do hate is the crap surrounding it. I've never liked conversation hearts, and I'm not a big pink fan. Last year no fewer than 3 moms at school asked me "Where is your pink??" with huge smiles on their faces. Gross. I just don't care for the pink stuff. Or roses, frankly, unless they're green. So really, the best Valentine's Day would be just a note or a letter, and maybe chocolate, but not heart-shaped.

Totally unrelated, it's crappy weather today where I am. I stopped at one school, and while waiting for my appt. chatted with the receptionist. She started telling me how she's worried about her sister because, "Well, you know, she's single....so she lives alone. It's just that...you know, there's no man around....I worry about her."

Obviously she didn't notice that my left ring finger is bare and I'm surviving just fine.

I forgot to mention that right now, as I am typing this, there is some type of large, stuffed wild cat hanging on the library wall in front of me. Maybe a bobcat? It's tan-ish, no stripes or spots. Still creepy.

Well, I should go. I have only 1 hour to travel the 34 miles to my next destination. Wish me luck and the ability to stay out of the ditch.

The mood

I promise this dark mood and the serious posts will lift once we see the sunshine here in Sioux Falls. Going from 300 days of sunshine a year to less than 3 hours this week is making me a little out of sorts.

A few goings on to report...Tonight I went to a thing at church on contemplative prayer. It was really very interesting, although the preacher talked way too much about silence. But the idea was great, and it was nice to actually be told how to pray for once. Even preachers usually say they're going to teach on prayer, but it's usually way too vague to do any good. This week though, there were instructions on how contemplative prayer is done, and next week Lectio Divina. I'm excited.

By the end of this week I will also know whether or not I may have some more funny kid stories to share on the blog. More on that later.

I'm thrilled about the Barack victories yesterday. I was so thrilled, in fact, that I decided to make a donation, and at the same time buy another shirt and a button. It was all going swimmingly until I pushed the submit button. I waited, and waited, and did NOT push the button again, being an avid online shopper and knowing the consequences. So after a while I got a screen that said something about not being able to communicate with the server, and to try my request again.

Suspicious, I checked my e-mail for a confirmation, in case the order went through and the screen I was seeing was lying to me. No e-mail. So I repeat the process (4 times, I found out today), and finally switch to another browser and complete the transaction no problem.

I check my bank statement today, and my debit card was charged 5 times for the transaction. I sent a quick e-mail to the web people, saying I love Obama, but not enough to give him ALL of my money, and explaining how I am a diligent online shopper, but their site was messed up. I haven't heard anything back yet. So I may be coming into some discount Obama t-shirts, and a much bigger political donation than I had expected.

I'm also considering calling for Obama, but I'm not sure yet seeing as how I HATE it when people (like Dordt) call me at home at night. But, if it works...does anyone know if calling strangers on behalf of a political candidate works? Well if it does, those Verizon free nights and weekends might come in handy. Yes, we can.

Republicans for Barack

I can imagine that working in social services could easily turn you into a Republican. Not that I'm personally becoming a Republican, but my job has certainly caused me to see some things differently.

In my position I see young adults in some heart-breaking situations. Some of those situations are completely out of their control--mentally ill parents, addicted parents, parents who just plain don't want to be parents. And some of the situations are self-induced, built on a sense of entitlement and a pattern of self-sabotage. It's easy to think you know who should and should not receive help and protection, but you can't build a system that awards assistance based on motivation and personal commitment to change.

The job has also given me insight I sometimes would rather not have into social issues. I was working with a young woman a while back who really needed some help. She was a great candidate for our program--motivated, working, dedicated. Struggling with learning disabilities, she didn't quite make it through high school, but she sat in my cubicle and worked on the required essay for about 30 minutes. When she was finished, she only had a paragraph, barely understandable. It was her dedication despite the obstacles that gave me home she would succeed. We did the application, and everything looked promising.

A few weeks went by, and she hadn't gotten me the last piece of the application that I needed. I called her a few times, leaving her voicemail messages. Finally she called me back. Her voice was quiet, and she told me she was pregnant, and her mom no longer wanted her to participate in the program. She wanted to keep the baby, and live with her mom. She wasn't sure what her boyfriend would do.

It was devastating. The future we were planning for her disappeared. That same week the state I live in brought up a bill to ban abortion again. It failed the last time around, but it came back. As it was brought up, there were numerous letters to the editor, emphatically shouting that all babies are a gift from the Lord. The writers described the blessings a baby could bring, and I couldn't help but think of this girl.

Now I know this may offend some of my friends, and people who read, but for this girl the baby wasn't a blessing or a gift. Not that it couldn't become one, but having a child at her age, in her situation, and deciding to raise it, virtually locks her into a cycle she was attempting to get out of.

I haven't heard from her since the phone call when she told me she was pregnant, but I think about her a lot. The route I drive to work goes through one of the poorest areas of my town, an area I didn't know existed until I started this job. It's the home of a youth center we hang out at every week, and from being there I know that the youth in the neighborhood are the definition of "at risk." I see some of the kids from the youth center on my way to work, and I can't help but wonder what goes on behind closed doors in their homes.

The answer to all of this? I have no idea. I'd like to hope that Barack will help, but I've got no illusions that human suffering will end in the next 4-8 years. For now, I'll do my part, knowing that there are others working toward the same goal.