You should probably sit down (unless you already are). This is unexpectedly big like the Royals winning the World Series (or even having two winning seasons in a row); like having a black man and a woman vying against each other for election nomination; like Basil getting married...
At 5:34 pm today (Sunday, February 24th), I registered to run a 5K. A real one.
Just in case you forgot or are new to my blog - I HATE running, and I NEVER run outside. I also hate mornings and the run is at 7:30 IN THE MORNING!
So, on April 5th, I expect to see all kinds of shining faces along the course, cheering me on!
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
the story revealed.
Due to the uprising of some of my readers(ehem, chris), I have (finally) woven the story that is found in the pictures below.
It was comical, in a not so funny way. Tammy and I were headed to Kansas City for a conference planning team meeting. Of course, like most good IV staff, we were running a bit late. Just as we put the vehicle into drive, it started sleeting. Yes, sleeting. Now, I was not worried about our driving because we were driving a flipping HUGE Ford F-150 that I affectionately dubbed "big red". That's right. Extended cab. 4-wheel drive. Deep red. AH-MAZING! The small town girl in me grabbed my cowboy hat from my car, through the truck into 4-W, and cruised (at a careful pace) to the interstate. (really, Tammy was driving at this point, but that last sentence sounds better if I reference myself as the driver because Tammy's not really a small town girl).
Within almost a mile of being on I-70, we found ourselves stuck in traffic. There we remained behind the greenish truck for almost 3 hours. We moved occasionally, but never enough to actually consider it progress. When our meeting in KC started, Tammy and I were still only about 2 miles from my apartment.
As you can probably tell we used my new digital camera (thanks mom, dad, gb, and gr) as entertainment, a taste of which is in the "photojournal".
We did finally reach our destination, 6 hours after we left and 3 hours late for the meeting. But our Iowa coworkers (who ironically didn't hit any weather issues) welcomed us, fed us, and made us stay up late making decisions :)
The drive home the next day was uneventful, except for trying to scrap the ice of my car and kissing "Big Red" good-bye.
It was comical, in a not so funny way. Tammy and I were headed to Kansas City for a conference planning team meeting. Of course, like most good IV staff, we were running a bit late. Just as we put the vehicle into drive, it started sleeting. Yes, sleeting. Now, I was not worried about our driving because we were driving a flipping HUGE Ford F-150 that I affectionately dubbed "big red". That's right. Extended cab. 4-wheel drive. Deep red. AH-MAZING! The small town girl in me grabbed my cowboy hat from my car, through the truck into 4-W, and cruised (at a careful pace) to the interstate. (really, Tammy was driving at this point, but that last sentence sounds better if I reference myself as the driver because Tammy's not really a small town girl).
Within almost a mile of being on I-70, we found ourselves stuck in traffic. There we remained behind the greenish truck for almost 3 hours. We moved occasionally, but never enough to actually consider it progress. When our meeting in KC started, Tammy and I were still only about 2 miles from my apartment.
As you can probably tell we used my new digital camera (thanks mom, dad, gb, and gr) as entertainment, a taste of which is in the "photojournal".
We did finally reach our destination, 6 hours after we left and 3 hours late for the meeting. But our Iowa coworkers (who ironically didn't hit any weather issues) welcomed us, fed us, and made us stay up late making decisions :)
The drive home the next day was uneventful, except for trying to scrap the ice of my car and kissing "Big Red" good-bye.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Monday, February 04, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
the markings of a "J"
My former roommate, Tanya, made me take the Myers-Briggs personality test prior to our living to together. It turned out to be a powerful aid in our living together as it provided some understanding in our actions. It has also been helpful as I joined the IV staff world; they too often speak in "myers-briggs".
Lately I've been noticing (and doing that thing where I blog in my head) traces of my "J" ness as I walk through my day. As a J, noticing these things probably would have made me self-conscience, but after living and working with P's, I've learned to laugh.
I am an ESFJ.
Here's my version of...
You Know You're a "J" if:
(Some of these might actually be a combination of SJ)
10. You fight (or give in to) the urge to call the person you're meeting when they are 3 minutes late.
9. You lock your pens in your desk so your coworkers won't walk off with them.
8. You call your boss everytime you think of something you need to tell him rather than saving it all up for one conversation.
7. You have to unpack all of your boxes before you sleep after moving into a new apartment or house.
6. Your underwear drawer is not only organized, but compartmentalized.
5. when using a microwave, you must hit the clear button after stopping something before time runs out because you just can't handle a "portion" of time sitting on the screen.
4. Everything in your freezer is in a container...and is labelled.
3. You do the same thing every morning - hit snooze for 10 minutes, get up, go to bathroom, turn on hot water, wash face, get dressed, make breakfast, quiet time, pack lunch, get shoes, go to work.
2. Every file on your computer is neatly filed away and you can actually see the desktop picture.
1.You wake up a bit sweaty from a nightmare that consists of someone expecting something of you last minute
(for those of you that know me: my "nightmare" - Andrew and Paul, the work day coordinators had a team of around 150 sitting in the cafeteria waiting to eat. I had NO IDEA that I was even supposed to cook for them. And Paul was insisting that he told me and expecting me to pull something together right there)
Lately I've been noticing (and doing that thing where I blog in my head) traces of my "J" ness as I walk through my day. As a J, noticing these things probably would have made me self-conscience, but after living and working with P's, I've learned to laugh.
I am an ESFJ.
Here's my version of...
You Know You're a "J" if:
(Some of these might actually be a combination of SJ)
10. You fight (or give in to) the urge to call the person you're meeting when they are 3 minutes late.
9. You lock your pens in your desk so your coworkers won't walk off with them.
8. You call your boss everytime you think of something you need to tell him rather than saving it all up for one conversation.
7. You have to unpack all of your boxes before you sleep after moving into a new apartment or house.
6. Your underwear drawer is not only organized, but compartmentalized.
5. when using a microwave, you must hit the clear button after stopping something before time runs out because you just can't handle a "portion" of time sitting on the screen.
4. Everything in your freezer is in a container...and is labelled.
3. You do the same thing every morning - hit snooze for 10 minutes, get up, go to bathroom, turn on hot water, wash face, get dressed, make breakfast, quiet time, pack lunch, get shoes, go to work.
2. Every file on your computer is neatly filed away and you can actually see the desktop picture.
1.You wake up a bit sweaty from a nightmare that consists of someone expecting something of you last minute
(for those of you that know me: my "nightmare" - Andrew and Paul, the work day coordinators had a team of around 150 sitting in the cafeteria waiting to eat. I had NO IDEA that I was even supposed to cook for them. And Paul was insisting that he told me and expecting me to pull something together right there)
Sunday, January 13, 2008
longing for the familiar of what once was
Do you ever find yourself longing for the familiarity of what once was? The bed you used to sleep in, the schedule of an old job, the friend you always ate cafeteria food with in college.
I'm in the middle of my fourth year in St. Louis and while I have friends that will dance with me, a job - or three - that I enjoy, and a home that brings me comfort, there are times when everything feels so foreign. Today was one of those.
I spent most of the day on the couch; the result of an eventful night, a terrible headache, and some sore muscles (no, there was no alcohol involved!). Amidst the throbbing I found myself thinking of a particular friend from the college days. Our first meeting was in an InterVarsity Bible Study. I was a table leader, and he was a freshman - as awkward as they come. However, he was a friendly awkward freshman.
Our friendship seems to have happened overnight as I can't recall much of how it happened. At some point, he grew into a mature leader with a passion for people, Christ, and justice.
I'm not certain why he made it to the front of my mind tonight, but I do know that I am left with a longing for the familiarity of him. To lose horribly at ping-pong against him, to absorb his political knowledge, to talk late into the night about God's heart for justice and the oppressed, dreaming big dreams about saving the world.
Maybe I was feverish this afternoon. Maybe I was just walking down memory lane. But really, dreaming of the familiar is what helps me walk through the unknown.
I'm in the middle of my fourth year in St. Louis and while I have friends that will dance with me, a job - or three - that I enjoy, and a home that brings me comfort, there are times when everything feels so foreign. Today was one of those.
I spent most of the day on the couch; the result of an eventful night, a terrible headache, and some sore muscles (no, there was no alcohol involved!). Amidst the throbbing I found myself thinking of a particular friend from the college days. Our first meeting was in an InterVarsity Bible Study. I was a table leader, and he was a freshman - as awkward as they come. However, he was a friendly awkward freshman.
Our friendship seems to have happened overnight as I can't recall much of how it happened. At some point, he grew into a mature leader with a passion for people, Christ, and justice.
I'm not certain why he made it to the front of my mind tonight, but I do know that I am left with a longing for the familiarity of him. To lose horribly at ping-pong against him, to absorb his political knowledge, to talk late into the night about God's heart for justice and the oppressed, dreaming big dreams about saving the world.
Maybe I was feverish this afternoon. Maybe I was just walking down memory lane. But really, dreaming of the familiar is what helps me walk through the unknown.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Just a short blog today. Many of you city folk often ask me questions about small town life...well here's one for you:
I just drove 12 miles to a McDonalds in order to have a wireless connection.
I have been blogging in Word so that I could keep up, but have just posted everything I've written. Enjoy the words...posted from McDonalds in small town Missouri.
I just drove 12 miles to a McDonalds in order to have a wireless connection.
I have been blogging in Word so that I could keep up, but have just posted everything I've written. Enjoy the words...posted from McDonalds in small town Missouri.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
a run down memory lane
I went for a run yesterday evening. The sun was on the verge of setting which made the snow ice glisten even more so than usual. I ran in the middle of the road, a perk of a small town, so as to avoid the black ice and a bruised tailbone. The route I took was one that I had walked a million times before. The sounds of Riley’s techno music keeping my feet moving, and the places I passed flashing scenes from my life across the screen in my mind…like I was watching a movie in fast forward.
About two blocks into my run, I came to a beautiful three-story gray house. I remembered when the owner’s built the porch that ran the entire length of two sides of the house and came to a close at a gazebo. I remembered playing with one family that lived there, and baby-sitting for the next. It towered over the tiny white house next door; the house where I spent almost every Saturday afternoon in elementary school. I couldn’t wait to finish my chores so that I could call Amber. We spent hours and hours playing school, house, and Guess Who in her grandma’s basement.
At the next corner was Mrs. Schmidt’s house. She was the most elegant high school teacher I had ever met. Her love of literature was so contagious that it almost forced a desire to understand Shakespeare upon her students. She had an immaculate backyard…with a path that wound through the flowers, past the perfect climbing tree, and along the shoulder-high picket fence.
Later in the run, I came to Coach Palmero’s house. He was one of the greatest coaches in the history of my high school. He retired shortly after I made the transition to high school which limited my time with him. However, one day as I was getting ready for practice, my coach was nowhere to be found and my knee needed to be wrapped. I didn’t want to suffer the consequences of being late so Palmero in his New York accent said, “Hop up on the table. I’ll wrap your knee, dwall (doll).”
Around the corner was what used to be my Great Aunt Joan’s house. She was my grandmother’s sister. There was evidence of some major rehabbing left in the yard; the new owner’s attempts to make it fit their needs. The final leg of my run included the Cooper’s house. Mrs. Cooper was my elementary music teacher, my piano teacher, the woman who cheered me on and helped me along as I sang all through high school. I spent hours at the piano in her living room, and watering the plants in her yard.
Her house sits across from track and football field. I could see the lights on, the crowd yelling as Buddha intercepted and ran for a touchdown. The laughter of my new friends, our athletic “enemies”, as we sat on a blanket by the gym building watching our friends run the 400m echoed in my ears. Whether football, band, or track, I spent many hours with the gates of that field.
As I finished my run, one of Riley’s songs on – ironically. I'm missing a couple of the lyrics and have a request in to my friend who is also Riley's bro and music partner to fill in the blacks. What I know of the lyrics follows:
There once was a runner in days of old
Wasn’t this with words so bold
Set your eyes straight down this road
Leave your past, your friends, your gold
Sankofa – a Swahili word that means looking back to move forward. It was a Sankofa run today.
About two blocks into my run, I came to a beautiful three-story gray house. I remembered when the owner’s built the porch that ran the entire length of two sides of the house and came to a close at a gazebo. I remembered playing with one family that lived there, and baby-sitting for the next. It towered over the tiny white house next door; the house where I spent almost every Saturday afternoon in elementary school. I couldn’t wait to finish my chores so that I could call Amber. We spent hours and hours playing school, house, and Guess Who in her grandma’s basement.
At the next corner was Mrs. Schmidt’s house. She was the most elegant high school teacher I had ever met. Her love of literature was so contagious that it almost forced a desire to understand Shakespeare upon her students. She had an immaculate backyard…with a path that wound through the flowers, past the perfect climbing tree, and along the shoulder-high picket fence.
Later in the run, I came to Coach Palmero’s house. He was one of the greatest coaches in the history of my high school. He retired shortly after I made the transition to high school which limited my time with him. However, one day as I was getting ready for practice, my coach was nowhere to be found and my knee needed to be wrapped. I didn’t want to suffer the consequences of being late so Palmero in his New York accent said, “Hop up on the table. I’ll wrap your knee, dwall (doll).”
Around the corner was what used to be my Great Aunt Joan’s house. She was my grandmother’s sister. There was evidence of some major rehabbing left in the yard; the new owner’s attempts to make it fit their needs. The final leg of my run included the Cooper’s house. Mrs. Cooper was my elementary music teacher, my piano teacher, the woman who cheered me on and helped me along as I sang all through high school. I spent hours at the piano in her living room, and watering the plants in her yard.
Her house sits across from track and football field. I could see the lights on, the crowd yelling as Buddha intercepted and ran for a touchdown. The laughter of my new friends, our athletic “enemies”, as we sat on a blanket by the gym building watching our friends run the 400m echoed in my ears. Whether football, band, or track, I spent many hours with the gates of that field.
As I finished my run, one of Riley’s songs on – ironically. I'm missing a couple of the lyrics and have a request in to my friend who is also Riley's bro and music partner to fill in the blacks. What I know of the lyrics follows:
There once was a runner in days of old
Wasn’t this with words so bold
Set your eyes straight down this road
Leave your past, your friends, your gold
Sankofa – a Swahili word that means looking back to move forward. It was a Sankofa run today.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
a traditional non-traditional christmas
It has been the topic of conversation for several weeks now – “What does your family do for Christmas?” It’s not necessarily a dreaded question, but a question I never have the expected answer for. There are only three things that I can be certain of finding each Christmas with my family
1) There will be lep cookies. A wonderful molasses cookie that comes from the German side of our family. They take 10 days to make and are worth the wait!
2) We always open presents one at a time while everyone watches. As a child it was hard to be patient as I waited for my sisters to open a present so that I could have another turn. In my old age, it has become more meaningful. We get to admire what each person gets, take time to admire what has been given to us, and watch as my nephew tries to open them all! Instead of a five minute free-for-all frenzy, we have two-hours to spend together giving and receiving.
3) That there will be a lot of non-traditional happenings. This year we celebrated on December 23. Today, I played Clue and Pitch with my sisters and father, went to a movie (which I’ve NEVER done on Christmas before) and then went for a run (yes, I did!)
Traditions are fun and are often catalysts of great memories, but even the side of me that loves consistency doesn’t hate the tradition of non-traditions!
1) There will be lep cookies. A wonderful molasses cookie that comes from the German side of our family. They take 10 days to make and are worth the wait!
2) We always open presents one at a time while everyone watches. As a child it was hard to be patient as I waited for my sisters to open a present so that I could have another turn. In my old age, it has become more meaningful. We get to admire what each person gets, take time to admire what has been given to us, and watch as my nephew tries to open them all! Instead of a five minute free-for-all frenzy, we have two-hours to spend together giving and receiving.
3) That there will be a lot of non-traditional happenings. This year we celebrated on December 23. Today, I played Clue and Pitch with my sisters and father, went to a movie (which I’ve NEVER done on Christmas before) and then went for a run (yes, I did!)
Traditions are fun and are often catalysts of great memories, but even the side of me that loves consistency doesn’t hate the tradition of non-traditions!
Monday, December 24, 2007
christmas in the big woods
I’ve reverted back to the old school days of reading. I have been watching some of my students carry around children’s classics such as “Boxcar Children”, Lois Lowry books, “Little House on the Prairie”, the Narnia books, etc. One of my students tried to hold a conversation with me about “Little House on the Prairie”, but it was very one-sided as I added in my “oh?”, and “what happened next?” when appropriate. Upon pondering that conversation, I made the decision and headed to the library where I have been shopping in the kiddie section ever since. I read a couple of the Narnia series, “Caleb’s Story” – the third in the Sarah, Plain and Tall series, and have moved on to “Little House in the Big Woods”.
I very appropriately came to the chapter on Christmas this evening and was somehow struck by the depiction of them opening their Christmas stockings:
In the morning they all woke up almost at the same moment. They looked at their stockings, and something was in them. Santa Claus had been there. Alice and Ella and Laura in their red flannel nightgowns, and Peter in his red flannel nightshirt, all ran shouting to see what he had brought.
In each stocking there was a pair of bright red mittens, and there was a long, flat stick of red-and-white-striped peppermint candy, all beautifully notched along each side. They were all so happy they could hardly speak at first. They just looked with shining eyes on those lovely Christmas presents. But Laura was happiest of all. Laura had a rag doll.
She was a beautiful doll. She had a face of white cloth with black button eyes. A black pencil had made her eyebrows, and her cheeks and her mouth were red with ink made from pokeberries. Her hair was black yarn that had been knit and raveled so that it was curly.
She had little red flannel stockings and little black cloth gaiters for shoes, and her dress was pretty pink and blue calico. She was so beautiful that Laura could not say a word. She just held her tight and forgot everything else. She did not know that everyone was looking at her…
As I read this, I went back to my own Christmases as a child…my requests for Lincoln Logs and Legos, dolls and electronic gadgets….what would my reaction had been if I had received red mittens and candy canes? Of course that was a different time period in history..a time when imagination still invaded play. Children may have been a little less coordinated, but could milk a cow and grow a garden…vital needs for a family. Even disregarding the difference in culture due to the time; the elation of the children over what they did receive is a rare jewel in our day. How do we go back to helping our children fall in love with the simple things in life? To see them be grateful for the things they get instead of begging for the next step up. To bring the imagination back to play time. It is an art long lost…but on the verge of being rediscovered. Maybe there is hope for my children….
As I leave you to ponder that…I will continue to update you on my journey through children’s books as I plan to continue this for a few months.
I very appropriately came to the chapter on Christmas this evening and was somehow struck by the depiction of them opening their Christmas stockings:
In the morning they all woke up almost at the same moment. They looked at their stockings, and something was in them. Santa Claus had been there. Alice and Ella and Laura in their red flannel nightgowns, and Peter in his red flannel nightshirt, all ran shouting to see what he had brought.
In each stocking there was a pair of bright red mittens, and there was a long, flat stick of red-and-white-striped peppermint candy, all beautifully notched along each side. They were all so happy they could hardly speak at first. They just looked with shining eyes on those lovely Christmas presents. But Laura was happiest of all. Laura had a rag doll.
She was a beautiful doll. She had a face of white cloth with black button eyes. A black pencil had made her eyebrows, and her cheeks and her mouth were red with ink made from pokeberries. Her hair was black yarn that had been knit and raveled so that it was curly.
She had little red flannel stockings and little black cloth gaiters for shoes, and her dress was pretty pink and blue calico. She was so beautiful that Laura could not say a word. She just held her tight and forgot everything else. She did not know that everyone was looking at her…
As I read this, I went back to my own Christmases as a child…my requests for Lincoln Logs and Legos, dolls and electronic gadgets….what would my reaction had been if I had received red mittens and candy canes? Of course that was a different time period in history..a time when imagination still invaded play. Children may have been a little less coordinated, but could milk a cow and grow a garden…vital needs for a family. Even disregarding the difference in culture due to the time; the elation of the children over what they did receive is a rare jewel in our day. How do we go back to helping our children fall in love with the simple things in life? To see them be grateful for the things they get instead of begging for the next step up. To bring the imagination back to play time. It is an art long lost…but on the verge of being rediscovered. Maybe there is hope for my children….
As I leave you to ponder that…I will continue to update you on my journey through children’s books as I plan to continue this for a few months.
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