Cross-stitch on the Go

I find it absolutely impossible to sit still.  Even watching TV or Netflix, I have to be doing something with my hands (fact, I'm typing this in one tab with The West Wing playing in another).

I always keep some sort of busy work close, and though in the past years it was typically homework, in the seven months since graduation, I have begun keeping books and crafting supplies at hand to stave off my boredom and penchant for napping when I'm bored.

Small cross-stitch kits like these are available at tons of stores including Walmart, Joann Fabrics, and Michael's.  The kit itself is the perfect size, easy to transport and small enough to keep everything in your lap if you're watching a movie or riding in a car.  I like to store all the pieces of the kit, plus a scissors, in one of these pencil pouches.  They're just big enough to keep you busy for a bit, and they're relatively inexpensive.

But what to do with the finished product?  My favorite use for these small pieces is to use them as gift tags; I just attached the little bunnies to a Christmas present I mailed to a friend.  A handmade tag like this is a great way to make a gift-recipient feel special, and a myriad of designs make grabbing one from a stockpile easy.

Student Loan Control

May graduates hit a trap.  And that trap is in the form of "your first loan payments are due RIGHT before Christmas."

So while we all take a moment to feel sorry for ourselves and freak out that there is absolutely no way we've been out of school for over six months already, I'm going to share something that will make you feel less like one of the poor people on the Titanic.

The point of the website I've shared (click the hyperlink, people, I made it easy) is largely to help you estimate how much your loan payments will be.  Yes, I know, your loan servicers are doing that for you, but hang with me for a second.

The bottom half of the loan calculator (which looks like this, for those who still haven't been convinced to click the link)

has a section where you can experiment with what will happen if you pay more than the minimum, whether it be once, once a year, or monthly.

Now most of us who are buried under student loans ($51k - I know what I'm talking about) feel like the minimum payments are a stretch, and the little extra we could maybe eke out every month isn't going to change much.  But read on and take heart!

One of my (many) loans has a calculated monthly payment of about $39, but the contract I signed mandates I pay at least $50 a month.  So, in essence, I am paying an extra $11 a month.  By adding that $11, I will pay off this particular loan 51 months early.  That's over four years of my life without payments, all for the cost of a restaurant pizza.

Gather up your loan info, click the link, and get yourself in control of your debt.  If one less night of half-price apps with your friends or one less bottle of wine a month can give you a few loan-less years, it's so worth it.  Calculate and recalculate until you find what's going to make an impact on your life!

Distance

I have a lot of perspective on distance.

I think of distance differently, having grown up in a rural area.  When I was growing up, there was no running down the street to play with a friend.  You didn't just run into town when you were craving some Milk Duds, and making sure there was milk for breakfast required strategic planning because you could drive for twenty miles and not necessarily pass a grocery store.  And all of this was fine, normal.  Moving to college was the first time I'd ever lived in town, and I was the girl who frequently forgot to close the blinds before changing and was confused by the monthly test of the tornado siren.

If you've ever been anywhere near Minnesota, you'll know that distance is measured in minutes, not miles.  The next town is fifteen minutes away, the nearest (insert store) is a half-hour drive, and every college student live (insert hours) away from home.  We think of distance in the time we'll take out of our day and weigh the destination versus the worth of our time.

But distance is so much bigger and smaller than that.

Junior year of college, I started a relationship with a man who lived twelve hours away.  College was the first time I'd ever really been separated from people I loved, but it always had a deadline.  "I'll see you over fall break/Christmas/Easter."  That's not the way long-distance romantic relationships work.  I went 21 months without seeing my guy, and I got plenty of near-misses and disappointments.

My best friend leaves the continent in six days, just three days before my birthday.  It's the second time she leaves North America in a year, but this time, no one knows when she'll be home.  London is a long way from Minnesota, not that she was close to me when she was at home in Montana.  I know we're both going to have days where we suck at staying in touch, when we don't have the energy to communicate, where it just seems so difficult to stay close so far.  I've felt it all before, but every time, it's new.

Every mile is a pound of effort.  My daily life would not be possible with out cell phones, texting, and Skype.  I struggle with emotions that some people have been blessed never to experience, and some days they make it nearly impossible to crawl out of bed.  But the moments - the hello moments, the I-missed-you moments, the finally-able-to-touch moments - they are sweeter than any emotion you've ever felt.  Saying goodbye makes saying hello twice as sweet.  Every mile is a confused blessing.

Good Reality TV?

I dated a guy in high school who knew he was smarter/more sophisticated/generally better than everyone else.  This attitude came up frequently with his parents, especially his mom, who *gasp* enjoyed reality TV shows.

I'll admit that I can be a bit of a reality TV junkie as well.  I avoid Big Brother and Survivor on principal, but it's the rare episode of The Biggest Loser that doesn't make me cry.  And home improvement shows (Property Brothers, Love It or List It, Design Star) - let's just say I'm going to have some very high expectations in the coming decade.

No one, and I mean NO ONE has ever really complimented reality TV on anything; it's a very warped version of "reality," they (generally) have little educational value, and as Jersey Shore taught us, they make superstars out of people who honestly just need to melt back into the primordial ooze and please don't reproduce any farther.

But is there such a thing as good reality TV?  I personally love finding new exercises on Biggest Loser, and those design shows make me drool, but there's more to it than that.  Lately, I've been watching a show called Surviving the Cut on Netflix.  The show is an exploration of the U.S. military's most rigorous training courses and follow classes of Special Forces wannabes as they get mentally and physically torn apart to prepare for the toughest jobs any of us regular humans can imagine.

So let's think about this: it's a series that shows selected, dramatic excerpts of a typical day in the lives of a specific group of people competing to win a coveted rank - reality TV in a nutshell.  And yet, somehow, it seems different.  Is it because the series comes from the Discovery Channel?  Is it because the participants are good, selfless people?  Or is it just that most of us wouldn't deign to call the U.S. military "useless entertainment"?

Your call.

Find, Apply, Repeat

For the last few weeks, I've been in "get it together" mode.  Which, as a recent grad, basically means trying to find a job that I can actually be excited about.  And one which, possibly, will mean that I can pay back my student loans AND eat more than Easy Mac for every meal (just kidding, I hate Easy Mac).  I should note that there is nothing painfully wrong with my current job; it's just that I'm currently only part time and minimum wage, so I'm feeling the pinch in more ways than one, and this isn't something I can picture building the rest of my life on.

So I'm in the cycle of applying for jobs, and there are a few things I will never understand.  Why do I have to fill out a full job history and include a resume?  How long do I wait before I assume you laughed reading my materials and threw them in the discard pile?  What exactly is the magic formula for filling out the "Salary Requirements"?  And why are you not required to give me a reason for saying no?

Yes, I started my Round I'm-Not-Even-Counting-Anymore search with finding my dream job - and I didn't get it.  Unfortunately, I discovered this information in the midst of a personal crisis and the day before my next application was due, an application for a very similar, very dream job-esqe position.

So the question isn't really "how do I keep doing the same process over and over" or "how do I make myself more appealing," it's "how do I not lose faith in myself when no one else seems to have it?"  I always thought there was a direct line between my dreams and me - work hard, stay honest, study a lot, be rewarded.  But somewhere between Summa Cum Laude At My Top Choice School and Everything I Really Want, I got derailed.  Maybe it's my fault for chasing a dream that got changed half-way through, or maybe it's just part of the process and all my fellow graduates who seem to have it together are just hanging out in the faux-green grass.

The only thing I know for sure is that I just need one chance.  Give me a chance, and you will find that the only thing I know how to give is all.

Summer Reading, Part Three

This hasn't really come up before, but I'm a historical junkie.  I love pretty much any story that involves people wearing corsets, or wars that have already happened (don't get me started on my WWII obsession), or immigrants.  If the story takes place between, say, 1500 and 1975, I will read it or watch it.

But I also love a really witty story.  I had a theatre professor who once described theatre as "real life, only better," and that's what I want from a story.  I want main characters who have those perfect comebacks on the tip of their tongue and always have more brass than I have ever had.

Enter Deeanne Gist.

The first book I read by Ms. Gist was A Bride Most Begrudging.  It's an amazing story about a noble English woman put on a ship and sold as a "mail order" bride to a man in early Virginia.  Of course, it ends with love and all kinds of great gooey stuff, but the part that got me was an encounter with a skunk.

I digress.

This summer, I read Gist's newest book, It Happened at the Fair.  The story is set at the 1893 Chicago World's Fair.  It involves the history of ASL, Alexander Graham Bell's School for the Deaf, the history of fire sprinklers, and the sights, sounds, and events of the World's Columbian Exposition.

If you pick the book up at Walmart (not that you need to do so),

 you'll also get a sneak peek of her next book!

Holy Hannah.  The research put into this book is fabulous.  I honestly don't know if I did this much work my entire four years of college.  Okay, I did, but still.  The descriptions and photos included in the novel, set a beautiful scene.  Even though Gist admits in her Epilogue to changing certain facts to fit her story, she creates a detailed list of the actual events and her version.

The plot line keeps you turning the page as well.  The story centers around a man who wishes to sell his invention, an automatic sprinkler system, but is held back by his steadily declining hearing and the stigma surrounding deafness.  Enter in a beautiful woman, who can teach the inventor to read lips so no one will know his trouble - but of course, it's just not that simple.

If you're a history junkie like me, you have to pick up this book.  Everyone knows stories of the Civil War and the Great Depression, but how many books can you find about the suppression of sign language teaching and ways to fight fires?  Grab it now, and the 400 pages will keep you busy for a while.

Music Playlist, July 15th

I'm a music junky.  I will listen to basically anything that isn't heavy metal or rap (and even those are negotiable), so my life revolves around what's on my iPod and the music I'm relating to in the course of any given day.  Every now and then, I'll be posting a list of 5-10 songs that are on my mind.  Some of the lists will be themed, others will just be random.  So Google away, and I hope you find some new music that you love!

This is not me.  I am not that photogenic.

1. "Love to Burn" by Cory Lee/Alexz Johnson - This is a great song with a sultry R&B/jazz sound.  From the Canadian TV show "Instant Star," the song was originally sung in season three by the main character, played by Alexz Johnson.  On the soundtrack, however, the song is done by a co-star, Cory Lee.  I am of course biased towards Johnson's version as it was the original and plays a great part in an on-screen romance, but the song fits Lee's voice perfectly.  Perfect for: when you've got a guy that won't commit, you're looking for a bedroom soundtrack, or you're in the mood for romance.

2. "Drink, Swear, Steal, and Lie"  by Michael Peterson - Straight from the '90s, this song is one of those upbeat, not-really-mushy love songs.  The title might be a little deceptive, but that's because the lyrics are just a little bit punny.  For an English geek like me, that little bit of language humor is a real grab.  Perfect for: dancing around with the mop when you're supposed to be cleaning.

3. "1980" by Rehab - Full disclosure, this is a rap song (I said it was negotiable), and I've been listening to it pretty much nonstop since I got back from my vacation at the end of May.  When you find it online, it will say explicit, but the only explicit language is one use of "shit" and one use of "ho" BUT in the context "she ain't no ho." (I know, my grammar senses are tingling).  Overall, this is one of the cleanest and most positive mainstream rap songs I have ever heard, which is why I can stand to listen to it.  It's a love song, and a sweet one at that.  Plus, Rehab gets tons of credit from me for being able to use the phrase "pizzazz and jazz" in a rap song.  Perfect for: people who like the rhythm and beat of rap but can't stand the violence and misogyny that usually comes with.

4. "Perfect Day" by Lady Antebellum - Title pretty much says it all, plus this group is hugely on top of the music world right now.  Perfect for: anyone who needs a reminder to slow down and/or enjoy the little things in life.

5. "Blinded" by Third Eye Blind - Okay, so this song has a fair amount of innuendo, and it's all about a couple with on-off sexual issues, but I really like it.  It's totally '90s and has a great beat.  And, honestly, every girl wants a guy to be this enraptured by her.  Perfect for: scratching that nostalgia itch.

What are the songs filling your ears this week?  Share in the comments - I'm always looking for new music!

Moving Home

Let's face it.  There is a huge (somewhat joking) stigma about young adults who move back home after college.  A Pew survey from 2011 reported 53% of 18-24 year old moved back in with their parents, at least temporarily.  And with everyone from bloggers to Huffington Post and the Wall Street Journal throwing in their two cents, it seems like the horse is getting beaten to death over and over again.

I sympathize with both sides, I really do.  As a recent grad, I totally get the frustration and stress that comes with no income, high debt, and suddenly finding yourself back in the strange rut that you left years before, usually glad to see it go.  But I also completely understand how, for parents, there is suddenly another mouth to feed, more laundry, more utilities, more people fighting over the remote, and just a general stress that comes with having another adult with a totally different way of life.

Moms and Dads, let me clue you in, though.  As much as you may think we kids are looking forward to coming back home footloose and fancy free, for most of us, it sucks.  Not because we're broke, or because we can no longer make 2am runs to McDonalds without being looked down upon, or because we're sleeping on the Superman sheets we bought at 13.  It's because, at some point, the words "you live in my house" come into play.

Don't get me wrong.  I understand that it is your home, you pay most of the bills, and you have the right to set ground rules.  But a sentence like that only serves to antagonize and trivialize.  Antagonizes because it reminds us of all the ways in which we currently come up short - in debt, under- or un- employed, back in the nest; trivializes because it suggests that we are not allowed to have an opinion/our opinion is invalid because we haven't fit the mold of "success."

There has to be a better way.  Living at home doesn't have to be painful or cause a million regrets.  We all need to learn to talk to each other with love, and then maybe the process of getting on our feet won't feel so wrong.

Personal Responsibility

Over the weekend, a (assumed) drunk driver ran his/her vehicle into my grandmother's house.  Into the house.  Went through the ditch, into three trees, a flower bed, and the house, leaving tire tracks and a gaping hole, not to mention an exposed underground cable and broken plumbing and electricity in his wake.

And then, with the truck still slammed up against the house, the culprit ran off.

To me, the idea of running away irks me even more than the accident.  There have been a rash of hit and run accidents around my hometown, and it pisses me off.  Don't get me wrong, I can understand being scared of the consequences.  I can't imagine how scared I would be if I were in the same position.

I'm not saying I'm the best about taking responsibility for my actions.  I've been known to tell some white lies, and it's something I'm working on.  And even thought I admit there is a big difference between not telling someone you ate the last cookie and leaving the scene of an accident,  I see a relationship between the two.

It's all about responsibility.  Where is the line between a white lie and a gross misdemeanor? What are the signs of a bigger issue?  

How do we get it back?

Summer Reading, Part Two

I have been waiting a long time for a specific book to hit the shelves.  I'm one of those people, the kind that likes an author so much I stalk their website, looking for the release date of their next novel.  But, in the chaos of post-grad life, I completely missed the release date and didn't pick up The Moon and More until about ten days after it came out.  Even then, I was in the middle of another book, so I had to wait to catch up on the happenings in Colby until just recently.

Visit the website here.

I have been a fan of Sarah Dessen ever since her novel This Lullaby.  Although she is fairly famous for her earliest novels That Summer and Someone Like You (which were adapted into the Mandy Moore movie How to Deal), I'm not so much a fan of the books that came before This Lullaby.  As far as I'm concerned,  that's where Dessen hit her stride with YA fiction, with the notable exception of Lock and Key, which was a disappointment in the middle of a great run.

The Moon and More, like many of Dessen's books, contains cameo appearances of characters from previous novels.  Some might consider this cheesy, but I feel it's a brilliant move - we all know that pain of not wanting a novel to end, so why not give us a sneak peak back at the characters we love and how they're doing now?  It's set in the southern beach town of Colby, and centers around Emaline's struggle to deal with biological and step family, the start of college, her perfect boyfriend who just doesn't seem right anymore, the new guy, and the expectations everyone else holds for her.

With The Moon and More, I couldn't predict the end, and for most of the book, I wasn't sure how I wanted it to end.  Although the ending was someone reminiscent of Lock and Key, it was the perfect ending to a well-written story that made discomfort and embarrassment leap of the page.  I know this will be one of those books I hand down when I have a daughter.

Crisis Control

Lately, my life feels like one big crisis.

I'm juggling three jobs, we've been remodeling for weeks (truly, it's been off and on for a dozen years, but this is one of our on periods, which are always full of stress), and every time we turn around, someone is going to the hospital or having some kind of test done.

How most days feel.

Except I never look this classy.

The result is a sense of chaos, rushing, and constant worry about whether or not everything is being covered.

And, weirdly, I'm thriving.

Over the years, I've realized that I have two speeds: wide-open, and snail.  If things are going by slowly, breezing along, I lack energy and drive to accomplish anything.  As soon as life gets complicated, though, I'm at my best.  I speed from one thing to the next, trying to never slow down, and purposely taking on more and more responsibility until that moment when the day ends, and I crash like Rip Van Winkle.

It's a kind of adrenaline, and I'm a junky.  I love being able to take control, to fix things, to come out the other side victorious.  It's the buildup, the necessity of thinking on my feet, that makes me feel I've truly accomplished something.  And so, as I go into the next several days of unknown hours at multiple jobs, I wonder just how healthy my personality is.

Summer Reading, Part One

As I mentioned before, I am a big reader.  If I leave the house, I almost always have a book packed with me.  I choose my purse based on whether or not it can hold a paperback.  I have a section of my bookshelf dedicated to books I've purchased but not yet read.  It's a glamorous life of staying up later than I should, measuring daily accomplishments by how many chapters read, and making Post-Its lists of to whom I loaned which series.

Since graduation, I've already devoured seven books (that's a low figure for me, but I've been working, helping with our home remodel, and I didn't read over my five-day vacation). Most of them have been what I refer to as Semi-Trashy Romance Novels (distinguished from Trashy Romance Novels because the Semi-Trashy are historical, lending them a small bit of decorum).  Two of the novels I've read that fall outside this category were the first two novels in the newest Cindy Woodsmall trilogy.

Woodsmall writes Amish fiction, focusing on Amish life in the current time period.  Because of the Amish focus, Woodsmall's writing examines ideas of God, community, belonging, and the nature of modern living.  I find that, for many, these themes prevent books like Woodsmall's from even been picked off the shelf. 

The third book of Woodsmall's trilogy comes out in August.

Don't let that put you off right from the start.  Woodsmall's prose makes Amish life, language, and ideas easy to access, even for someone with no experience with Amish customs.  The ideas of God brought out in the characters' thoughts and speech are not the fire-and-brimestone that many people expect, but rather a gentle exploration of beliefs.  In the world of Christian fiction, Woodsmall creates beautiful settings and characters without trying to force her readers into a belief system.

A Heavy-Girl Conundrum

I'm not supermodel skinny.  I'm not even really anyone's version of skinny.  I hate throwing around words like chunky, heavy, fat, etc., because they mean something different to everyone.  If you're familiar with Gabriel Iglesias, I'm certain I would fall into the "big" category (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, start here.  This guy is hilarious).  I'm also a woman (for anyone who is making their first voyage here and/or isn't paying much attention), and women have gotten more and more "solutions" to body image problems brought about by being overweight, one such solution being our friend The Bodyshaper.

Picture from JC Penney

You could shop this things for days and not see the same one twice.  There's the brief, just for your butt; the old-fashioned just-for-the-stomach girdle; the bicycle short lower body shaper; and full-body shaper.  I probably even missed a few categories.  They come in every color, style, and price point.  Full-body shapers have as many strap styles as a Victoria's Secret multi-way bra.

I have friends that own Shapers, and I look at them every time I enter a department store.  Shapers are basically invisible under clothing while still managing to make you look lighter.  As a girl with large hips and a weird lovehandle-muffin top hybrid going on, I crave that smooth look.  But I just cannot bring myself to buy one.

Maybe part of my hesitancy is the desire to find that ever-elusive "right one."  But honestly, the idea of a Shaper kind of makes me angry.  I spent all my high school and junior high years fighting my body image problems through mean-spirited males, cheating boyfriends, and intentionally hurtful girls, trying to come out the other side where I can accept my body no matter how it looks.  I wouldn't say I've arrived at that point, but I'm closer, and I've also found a man who thinks I'm beautiful no matter what my weight.  There are all kinds of places to look for support in this journey (check out Brittany Herself--some days this blog saves me from myself).

The most amazing professor I ever had happened to be a non-skinny woman (who has whipped herself into a very healthy life by catching the running bug, a disease I will never suffer from).  I think her sole purpose some days was reminding me that my perfectionist tendencies are unhealthy and unrealistic.  Embracing flaws and problems is a process I started under her tutelage, and in that spirit, a Shaper just seems like giving in.  Maybe I don't have a perfectly smooth silhouette, but maybe that doesn't freaking matter.  Maybe it's just fine if I put on a jersey knit dress that clings to all my places whether society would label them good or bad.  Maybe I'd rather be authentic than perfect. 

The Post-Vacation Cranks

Last week, I took a five-day, much-needed, long-awaited vacation with my significant other (long distance relationships require vacations).  It was, in a word, glorious.

And then I came back to reality.  Which means a week of babysitting, meetings, and motel work, all compounding the fact that I would do anything to be back on vacation.

Is it just me, or does going on vacation actually make real life harder to live?  I have had such a case of the post-vacation cranks that I quite frankly don't want to be around anyone but a few chosen people, none of whom are actually less than a few thousand miles away.

So, how do you, I, or anyone else go about getting rid of those return-related regrets?  Frankly, I don't know.  Keeping busy seemed to help temporarily, but today I'm going to try making a list of five things about being home for which I am grateful, in the hopes that an expression of gratitude will seep into my emotions.

1. The technology that lets me get in touch with loved ones across continents.
2. My pillow - I have a memory foam pillow that is so much better than anything you will put your head on at a hotel.
3. Not living out of a suitcase.
4. Being able to cook what I want instead of eating out (talk about a price tag) every meal.
5. A chance to make money, in the hopes of saving up for another vacation very soon!

The 52 Week Challenge

An addiction to Pinterest occasionally reveals a very useful idea.  About two months ago, I discovered "The 52 Week Challenge," which seems to have become a bit of an internet sensation.  Now, I have no idea where or how the Challenge got started, but as a broke girl who is budgeting like crazy, I decided to give it a shot.

The 52 Week Challenge works like this.  Each week, you stash money into a jar, box, savings account, safe, or other holding place where for the duration of the challenge (one year), you will not touch it.  The first week, you put in $1, the second week, $2, and so on up to week 52, where you add $52 dollars to the kitty.

Starting with a dollar seemed a little ridiculous to me, and working up to $52 still seems a daunting task as I haven't gotten up to full-time hours at work yet, so I have been a little leery about the task.  But, as you can see from the chart below, if I can stick to it, it will be worth it.

Almost $1400 stashed away?  Who wouldn't love that?

One of the best parts of this growing way of saving is that by week 3, the money you have saved is already double what you're putting in for the week.  I'm only at week 5 at this point, so it's still pretty easy to put that small amount away.  However, I know it's going to get a lot more difficult, so here are my tips if you want to try the Challenge.

1. Decide beforehand what you're going to use the $1378 for, and whether you'll divide it or spend it all on one idea.  For example, you could put all the money toward a vacation, or you could split it in half and use $689 to pay off debt and the other $689 to buy a new TV or whatever it is you're desiring.
2. Write down what you will use the money for at the end.  No joke.  If you write down the goal and put it somewhere you will see, you're much more likely to actually follow through.  Plus, with it written down, you'll feel very guilty if you break your plan to pay off debt and instead go for a whirlwind shopping spree.
3. Find someone to do it with you.  Especially as the amounts climb, it'll be very easy to cheat and not put money in or take money out.  Having a friend do the Challenge alongside you will keep you both accountable.
4. Write the dates in your calendar, and cross off the weeks as you put the money in.  Otherwise you'll forget.  Obvious, but simple.

You Might Be a Hotel Maid if...

I recently went back to work at the same motel where I worked in high school.  This Memorial Day weekend has been a typically busy holiday weekend, and I will have worked three cleaning shifts by the time the weekend is up.  I will say this: cleaning motel rooms does not get any easier, cooler, or less disgusting after college.  It does, however, leave me with a LOT of time by myself to think (I keep forgetting my iPod, so talking to myself happens), and I have come up with a list of idiosyncrasies that occur among hotel maids.  And so, a la Jeff Foxworthy, you might be a hotel maid if:

1. You can make a queen bed in under four minutes, but the bed you sleep in hasn't been made since you last washed the sheets (quite possibly a while ago).
2. You come home from work with pockets stuffed full of used dryer sheets that got folded into the laundry.
3. When staying at a hotel, you always tip the maid.
4. You haven't dusted your own home for the better part of a year.
5. You have a favorite cleaner for wood, tile, stainless, fiberglass, and carpet, but none of them are made by the same company.
6. You can spot a hair on the floor at twenty feet.
7. You can't accomplish anything if your hair isn't in a ponytail.
8. When staying at a hotel, you refuse to brush your hair unless standing on carpet (because it's easier to vacuum it up than wipe it off the bathroom tile).
9. You want to physically harm anyone with the audacity to actually use the in-room microwave.

Thank God I don't work for a chain.

I wear jeans and a T-shirt.

Any fellow maids out there?  What did I miss?

Be safe this Memorial Day!

Ruining Reading

My nephew is only 3, and ever since he was a baby, he has devoured books.  Every book is fascinating, and if it's fascinating enough, you will read it over.  And over.  And over.  To the point where some books get hidden under a couch or a table because there are only so many times you, as an adult, can read the same twenty-seven words before you want to strangle children's authors and their effective repetition.

A favorite of my nephew's.

At least the kid has taste.

I miss that.

I had a professor in college who taught  my writing courses, and he would always say that what college prevented was reading.  It seems asinine, considering there were days I would read 60-150 pages, just for one class on one night.  But, God, it's true.

As soon as I could, I began devouring books.  I was my nephew, and it didn't stop in junior high, like it does for so many kids.  I LOVE books.  When everyone asked what I would do after graduation, "read for fun" was at the top of the list.  But college has turned me into such a skimmer.  If you've been to college, you've been there; you search the article for words that stick out because of length or font or stylization or bullet points, you read the first and last sentences of paragraphs to pick up on main points, you look for the places with howevers and even sos and thus or in conclusion because, quite frankly, there aren't always enough hours in the day.

The thing about skimming is that once you start, you can't stop.  I know I'm horrible about it.  The professor in my Contemporary Drama class gave quizzes on things that were written in the stage directions, not the dialogue, and damn if I didn't miss half of those questions pretty much every time.  Reading novels, I catch myself skipping from dialogue to dialogue and missing important details like entrances, exits, and secret revelations (side note: some authors like Louise Erdrich [whom I have met] don't necessarily use quotation marks in their novels, and boy does it drive my brain wonky).  As a writer, I know how agonizing finding the right word can be, how the rhythm and flow of prose create or destroy a passage, and yet I cannot make my brain savor the words on the page.  It is the voracious, cannot-put-it-down feeling of being enraptured by a wordsmith that I miss.

The missing is a reminder to slow down.

I live life as fast as I can, cramming, multi-tasking, doing and going and making, trying to fit every experience into one day - trying to make room for everything, and instead, gaining nothing.  Numbness and apathy are the symptoms, not the disease, and the symptoms point to a surface-level skimming of life.

It's time to feel.  It's time to savor.

This is Not a Eulogy

My grandmother is amazing.

Grandma raised 10 children.  Her husband and four of her sons were soldiers.  She lived through the Great Depression, WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, Desert Storm, and this War on Terror or whatever we call it now.  She baked bread and cookies every week, cooked, gardened, grew flowers, watched birds, sewed, crocheted, quilted, sewed, and played 500 every week with her gal pals.

This is not a eulogy.

My grandmother is still alive.  I am privileged to be one of the few grandchildren who lives near enough to have spent most Sundays of my growing up years at her house, watching quintessential 90s movies, helping snap beans, stealing cookie dough, and playing the lost game of Rack-O.  I still live near, near enough to go over and see her and talk to her.  But that woman is not my grandmother.

The 94, almost 95, year old woman who inhabits her body is not my grandmother.  That woman has been lost, in part, to dementia.  I will not use this space to rage and cry against the disease which I only somewhat understand, the helplessness that is inherent in the progression, or the unfairness of being the youngest grandchild and losing this woman before I reached my milestone.

This space, this eternal bit of ones and zeros, will mark permanently for the world what I have always known: this woman is amazing.  She has shaped me and written on my memory things that I will someday, unfortunately, most likely, lose.  I accept that my fate may be very close to hers, and so I write in this place that no one can take away:

The dress she made me when I was seven still hangs in the closet.
The quilt she made me as a baby still covers my bed, and me, as I type.
No one made bread, especially cinnamon raisin bread, like my grandmother.
I will never make taffy as well as she did.
I don't even really like Cowboy Cookies, but I loved them because she made them.
I used to sit at her side on the white spinny chair and tug on her yarn while she crocheted.
I always think of her when I see a hummingbird.
She always won at Rack-O because I was too young to strategize.
I never saw my grandmother sit still until she got sick.
She is responsible for my addiction to Days of our Lives.
I hated that she put butter on peanut butter sandwiches.
She taught me how good butter is on Saltine crackers.  Especially the wheat kind.
She knew unconditional love.

This is not a eulogy.

This is the memory I will keep.

Garage Sales, or Making Yourself Feel Better about Getting Rid of Things

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have a hard time getting rid of things.  I am sentimental about everything, and I also suffer from that frequent female "I'll wear that again someday" delusion.  I also happen to have a ridiculous number of books, very few of which I want to get rid of.  All this tumbles up into overcrowding, lack of space, and the necessity of getting rid of things.

There are a lot of ways to get rid of things: giving them to friends or relatives (usually I'm on the receiving end of the relatives part, which explains why I have some old lady clothes in my goodbye pile); donating them to some sort of worthy cause, whether it be thrifting, a homeless shelter, whatever place seems acceptable; or outright throwing it in the trash.  However, I will be having a garage sale.

Google Images is pretty accurate.

I'll be the first to admit, I don't really even enjoy going to garage sales.  I never seem to find anything good, unlike most of my relatives.  I hate the inanity of people trying to quibble over fifty cents (I am not a haggler.  Just pay the price and be done with it).  And generally there's a fair amount of heat and sun involved, which is no good for a pasty person like myself.

Now, I'm just out of college and flat-broke, which explains most of my reasoning behind having a garage sale rather than donating all of my stuff.  But as I was preparing for the garage sale (I'm not going to lie, I'm still not done and I only have about two days to finish.  Whoops.), I realized a garage sale really has more to it.  A garage sale, and the act of a random stranger purchasing that which you no longer care for, validates your caring for it in the first place.  Someone else's desire for an item means it was okay to hang on to the item, because at some level, it has a value.  It's a lot easier to give something up if it means someone else wants it.  At the end of the day, that's all most of us really want, right?  Validation, appreciation, affirmation - it's an emotional human need, and it carries weight.

Even from a stranger at a fifty cent price tag.

A Favor for a Friend

I knew a girl in high school named Anna.  Actually, I went to school with her little sister Katie, and I didn't know Anna that well except for the fact that she took my gorgeous senior pictures.  Anyway, through the magic of Facebook, we've kept in touch (because what else is Facebook for but talking to people you barely talked to in high school in the first place?).

Anna is one of those inspirational people, the kind you never think you'd actually know - she works for Feed My Starving Children, runs ANOTHER non-profit organization to help abandoned children in Africa, and at 25 years old is in the midst of adopting a Ugandan orphan with her husband.  Talk about being stretched thin, right?

Except it gets thinner.  Anna and her husband David thought their adoption process would take a couple years, so they planned out how they would go about raising the $30,000 it would take to rescue a child and grow their family.  Except the years of waiting they thought they had only lasted about five months.

Anna and David have a little boy waiting for them.  For them, specifically.  They have seen his picture, they know his name, and they have decided that this is their son - now they need to go get him.  The $20,000+ they have left to raise, they now need to raise by June so that they can travel to Uganda and pick up their son before the Ugandan courts close for a time.  They have come up with a simple idea to raise the money called Donate 2, Invite 25.

Anna and David are asking that you donate just $2 toward their adoption fund, then invite 25 friends to do the same.  The results would be exponential - if just 25 people invite 25 people, who in turn invite 25 people and all those people donate $2, their adoption will be fully funded.  There are other ways to help: their website features jewelry, shirts, and Ugandan-made gifts that all support their adoption, and there are instructions on how to donate Delta Skymiles you won't use (the airfare alone will cost them over $5000).  

So consider this my invitation to however many see this page; everyone is invited to help save this child.  Donate as you can, but please, please, share away on Facebook, Pinterest, Google+, wherever.  Anna and David just want to meet their son.

Graduating and Packing and UNpacking, Oh My!

Well in the blog description, I wrote "I firmly believe something about life is always changing."  Or, in this case, a lot of somethings.  I graduated from college four days ago.  Six days ago, I was quite literally still taking tests, and now I have gone through Baccalaureate and Commencement, packed up ALL of my things, scrubbed my apartment (which is now no longer even mine because I signed the papers and handed in my keys), driven 250 miles back to my parents' house, and begun the ridiculous process that is moving an entire apartment's worth of crap into one bedroom.  Oh, and begun truly fretting about the whole finding a job thing.  Update: In between drafting this post and posting it, I actually DID get a part-time job and some other opportunities opened up as well.  More on that another blog.

The unpacking thing is miserable.  Because I have so much crap, I cannot merely unpack the boxes/bins/bags and put things away.  I  have to go through everything in my room and clean out, throw out, donate, and reorganize.  Typically, I would be okay with that as I love organizing things, but in this case, I've had to face some ugly truths about myself, including the following:

1. In the past several years (while earning my Bachelor's degree) I have spent, at most, four months at home.  My theory throughout that time was apparently "stick it in a pile and clean it up later."
2. I have an obsession with Post-Its/mini-notebooks/notepads that is bordering on dysfunctional (I already knew about the addiction, I just didn't realize how bad it was, as demonstrated by the picture below - and the picture barely does it justice.).
3. I get WAY too emotionally attached to things.  It's a bit insane how much crap from elementary, junior high, and high school I have saved.  At one point, I apparently thought saving every test and paper with an A on it was a good scheme.  Believe me, I do not have the space necessary for that.  Also on the list of things that are weirdly hard for me to throw away are socks, journals from sixth grade, jewelry I have never worn, and any movie stub.
4. I cannot get rid of anything that I, my nephew, or my future children might want OR that may have another useful purpose after a bit of refashioning.  I am certain this is one of the genetic quirks passed on by my mother, as she often joins me in my reusing pursuits. (I'll blog more about this later - make your own notepads; this combines basically everything I love).

It starts to feel a bit like I should have my own episode of Hoarders.  Four bags of garbage later, I swear the piles have not gotten any smaller.  As much as it annoys me to no end, I can't really be mad about #3 or 4.  Being thrifty and frugal in the economy can only be good, right?  And at least if I'm attached to something, it means I care.  Finding ways to mesh all these sides of myself and situations together is just part of the beautiful mess.

My stash from #2.  This doesn't even include the DIY ones.

I haven't finished unpacking yet either.  Who knows what I'll find?