Just how hot is it outside?

For whatever reason, the financially flailing newspaper, The Oregonian, has decided to give me a free subscription. I didn't ask for it, the paper just started showing up in my driveway one day. I have never received a bill. No one has called to ask, "Haven't you been enjoying it? Why don't you buy a year subscription!" There has been nothing of the sort, just the faithful daily delivery of the paper. At first I thought it belonged to my neighbor who does subscribe, but his driveway was empty, so I would toss it on to his driveway. After a couple weeks of this I happened to be outside as my neighbor was walking down from the mailboxes. I waited for him to be closer and told him that I had been getting his paper. He claimed that he had been getting the paper twice a day. One before he went to work, at 3:30am, and one before he got home from work. It took a couple different approaches to successfully explain that his "2^nd" paper of the day was from me tossing the paper over.

Since it was now my paper, it was completely at my disposal. I don't want to take the time to read the paper, and if I did, I wouldn't choose The Oregonian. But my co-workers feel differently. Often Bryan would buy a paper and leave it in the lunchroom for the rest of us to peruse. Instead of dumping the paper straight into the recycle bin, I take it to work and alternately give it to Bryan or Matt. They're appreciative of it and it keeps the recycle bin in my garage a little lighter. I often read the headlines as I carry the paper the few steps down the hall to their offices. Today I was amused by the weather box. The high for today is supposed to be 102° and they claim that is "very hot." Just in case you were wondering and couldn't make up your mind whether it was just very warm, hot, kinda hot, stinkin' hot, or very hot - The Oregonian is kind enough to make that call for you. Now you know, today is very hot.

You're asking what?

"What are you doing?" she asked. I was in a swim suit with cap and goggles on, in a pool going back and forth; I would have thought the answer was obvious. But considering the woman who asked was also in the pool wearing a swim suit and was generally going back and forth, I didn't think she was being literal. I wasn't clear what she meant so I stopped, pulled out my ear plug, pushed up my goggles, and muttered, "What was that?" She must have seen the blank confused look in my eyes and asked more specifically, "What stroke are you doing?"

"Oh! It's the breast stroke."

"How do you do it?"

"Oh, um, well, ahhh..." I couldn't answer. It was as if she asked me how to breathe or walk. I had to slowly swim a few strokes and think about what I was doing before I could answer her.

Swimming has become an activity that is second nature for me. It's my stress relief. My place to get away and put aside the cares and worries, and relax. All you can think of is stroke, stroke, stoke, BREATH. The light rippling and dancing across the bottom mesmerizes; the bubbles breaking to the top creates a deafening sound blocking out the world. My zen.

This zen was broken last night with an impromptu swim lesson, but that was okay, I was glad to help. I made a realization yesterday too. I was flipping out and my mind was racing with thoughts yesterday afternoon, as I was cleaning the kitchen my mind would pause for a moment and the thought popped in - "I've got to get to the gym and swim or I'm going to explode." After a few times of telling myself this I realized with horror, "I'm just like Dad!" When he gets wound up his only way to deal with stress is to get on his bike and go, for hours. How did I end up like my dad? Both of us needing to do solitary physical activity to deal with stress. Genetics or modeling? You be the judge.

18 years overdue

Facebook is a wonder. Through the wonders of Facebook I have been able to reconnect with high school friends, college friends and roommates, church buddies from 20something, teaching comrades, keep in touch with Israel travel mates, and voyeuristicly see what's going on in their lives. This past weekend it was no longer by proxy. I had a fabulous time visiting with high school buddies that I hadn't really seen in 18 years. It started with breakfast with Kate, Ani joined us for a little while. When Ani showed up she told me I looked exactly the same, that I didn't have any wrinkles, but then she asked one of the most hilarious questions - "Are you airbrushed?" Cracks me up!

The three of us reconvened for dinner along with a fourth, Lara, who I hadn't seen since1991. It was such an enjoyable evening. We reminisced over our silly teenage antics and embarrassing crushes and attempts to get their attention. I hadn't laughed so hard in a long time. They did ask me the hard question I was dreading, "Why did you leave for our senior year?" I transferred schools 2 or 3 days after our senior year started. After I left I didn't stay well connected, which has been a big regret. I had some great friends, I just didn't realize it at the time. It wasn't easy to explain my motivation, it required explaining my immaturity and being vulnerable, recognizing that I hadn't done right by my friends. Hard, very hard. It was an explanation 18 years over due. But they were gracious and understanding. Hopefully I can recognize the value of their friendship this time so that I don't waste the opportunity to have them in my life for the next 18 years.

Oh, wait! I remember you!

I had lunch today with a friend I hadn't seen for several years - three to be precise. We used to work together, sorta, and even though I didn't necessarily enjoy the work I'd look forward to it because he would make me laugh so hard I didn't care what we were doing, as long as I was being entertained. Today we started out serious, getting caught up on the last three years, but it wasn't long before the snide remarks, the witty retorts, and the silly puns started. The mischievous sparkle in his eyes hasn't changed. We had a good time, it was great to reconnect. As I was reflecting on it later, I realized there was a distinct difference than the guys I work with, than most of my other guy friends, but what... It came down to this: it felt really nice to be taken care of. Which sounds weird and has connotations of a type of relationship we do not have, but I couldn't think of another way to phrase it.

I had written a short "thank you"email to him for his time and for treating me to lunch. I mentioned I was still amused by the water incident.

Allow me to deviate for a moment and tell you about the water incident.

We were having lunch at a Thai place I had suggested because it was close to work and has this one dish that I really like. The place was unusually slow in business, maybe because it was almost 1pm. But as a result we were pretty much ignored. He finally did get the attention of one of the waiters (or was he a busboy?) to ask for water, the guy came over and filled up his water glass and his alone and left. Apparently I was being rationed water and since my glass was not empty yet I didn't deserve anymore. My friend is never at a loss for words or quipy retorts but as the waiter walked away I looked over at him and his mouth was literally agape, speechless and dumbfounded. So that's the water incident.

I immediately heard back from him wanting to be sure that I understood why he was upset; that he was not amused. He mentioned that a gentleman would always be upset by how I was treated. That was it! He was behaving in a gentlemanly manner. He was (is) a gentleman. I had forgotten what they look like, which is why I couldn't name it before. I'm starting to remember - 'Gentleman,' nice to see you again, it's been too long; there are far to few of you in the world. The feminist movement may have killed you off like big game hunters, but for me, I never feel more feminine then when I'm treated well by a gentleman.

I'm done!... oh, wait - NOW I'm done!

What a wild ride.

I had shown my strength and adept ability to procrastinate once again. The big integrative project that I had been postponing for weeks was finally unavoidable. The instruction packet was nearly 20 pages long. It was overwhelming. The homework was more than I could handle on a weekly basis, how was I supposed to do the project and the weekly homework? My only solution was to procrastinate until the last possible moment, take two days off work plus the weekend, and plow through it. I sequestered myself to the house and researched and typed away for four days. My plan was to print the final paper Monday afternoon at 4pm, and have it in the mail by 4:30pm, get home and indulge in Mike's lemonade. The deadline passed and I was only half way through the paper. I reset my deadline for 8pm. That time came and went and I was still typing away. I was so stressed and frantic I couldn't help the tears that started slipping out. After a quick freak out, I buckled down and finished the paper... at 11pm. I did a quick spell check, printed it off, and packaged it up.

I jumped into the car and raced off to the post-office. It is a good thing that I know the route, I was wearing my glasses as I hadn't bothered to take the 2 minutes away from writing to put in my contacts. Driving with my glasses is a scary proposition, doing anything in my glasses except walk from the bathroom to my bed is a scary idea. I walked into the Tualatin post office and walked up to the auto shipping kiosk only to see that it was out of order. Jumping back into the car I rushed towards the Lake Grove postal office. Thankfully their machine was up and running and the date on the stamp had Monday, May 11th - it still qualified as on-time. Driving back home it started to sprinkle, making the fact that I was behind the wheel even more of a liability. Thankfully I made it home, safe and sound, with a huge weight lifted off my shoulders.

Sitting at my desk while at work the next day I checked my email and found an email from the class coordinator announcing the deadline was pushed back to Friday. I didn't have to kill myself yesterday! I could have gone to bed at a decent hour and finished it up later. Oh, well. I quickly sent an email to the grading coordinator and told him to toss the paper when he got it in the mail and that I would send another by the end of the week. Thankful for the extra time I polished the paper (an integrative study project of the lessons from the class and how they could apply to the Druze of Lebanon), did a better job of proof-reading, and sent it again. I am now, finally, done. Yippee!

Not Unfounded

I've always been a bit leery over the gap between the elevator and the floor once the doors are open.  It's just big enough that my keys or phone if I were to drop them would slip right through.  I've dismissed this as a sort of irrational concern, not unlike my fear of being eaten by a gigantic mutant alligator. But today I realized my fear of losing something down the elevator shaft is not unfounded.  My coworker stuck her hand out to block the elevator doors to hold it for someone and her key badge did a little flip with the action and promptly slid right between the elevator and the floor and clunked it's way down to the bottom of the shaft.  Apparently I really do need to mind the gap.

Sunday Funny

I spotted this as I left the market and got such a good laugh out of it. The car looked like it had two green horns!

dawn

The corners of the horizon were starting to glow a bit and the silhouette of the trees could be seen sharper in the east as I drove to the gym this morning. There wasn't a morning chill as it was already a balmy 50° making it easy to believe it would actually get up to 85° this late April day. As I made the short drive to the gym I was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of Israel. I can't pinpoint what it was, maybe the sky ripe with anticipation of the coming day, the colors reminiscent of the many mornings we set out at the break of day in similarly 'warm' mornings. Isn't it funny how random things will remind us of a place or person or time. By the time I left the gym the sun was almost over Mt. Hood and lighting up the sky, that feeling of Israel was gone leaving me 'homesick' for Israel.

Isn't it grand to be 1 year old!?

Saturday the clan got together to celebrate Easter, David's birthday and Zachary's 1st birthday. Here are a couple pics of the birthday boys!  Saturday was Zach's first taste of chocolate - do you think he liked it?  Notice the funky hairdo? That is the mad styling of frosting! You just gotta love it! "King" David celebrated 32 years but he wasn't about to be upstaged by his nephew at 1 years old and stole his special bib. 

Sloshy Soggy Good Friday

Pulling into the driveway of the office building I was faced with two large fire trucks. At first I wasn't sure that I would be able to get by them to access the upper level parking lot where I prefer to park. Once I squeezed by I started to wonder why they were there. The Easter Seals organization was going to sell tulips in the lobby today, could it be for that? The elevators have been on the fritz for awhile maybe one of them had decided to quit between floors with people in the car? That was a more probable scenario than the tulip sales. Being the ambulance chaser type I was hoping that I would be able to see whatever disaster had brought the fire brigade to the office. As I waited for an elevator everything seemed somewhat normal. One elevator was locked but appeared to be in use for moving but no one was screaming to let them out. The elevators were not the problem. Julianne got on the elevator with me and asked which floor, I said, "3rd please." She responded, "Oh, you're going to have a fun day!" Quizzically I asked, "How's that?" She explained a pipe had burst on the 4th floor and had flooded all the floors below. As she finished telling me the elevator doors opened and we were affronted with the damp thick smell of wet plaster. The presence of the fireman was now explained. I walked down to my office and stopped dead in my tracks at the hallway intersection just before my office door. The hallway down to the other side of the building was lined with garbage bins, the ceiling tiles were mostly gone, and water was streaming out of the ceiling. Bryan's office at the end of the hallway looked like monkeys had gone crazy with fire hoses; the water was running down the windows like a car wash. As you walked down the hallway the impression of your foot step filled in with water leaving mini glistening pools in shoe shapes. I felt badly for the media team as they were the worst hit on our floor, but nothing seemed to be damaged or lost thankfully. I must admit, I found the whole scenario quite amusing. The smell was more than most people could handle on my team and by 10 am there were only three of us left, by 2 pm I was the sole representative for my team at the office, everyone else chose to work from home. As a perk for staying and having to endure the smell and noise our manager brought in treats from Grand Central Bakery and the Operations team treated us to pizza for lunch. It is going to take awhile to get back to normal. The affected staff have been relocated to temporary offices with their belongings scattered around. All in all, it was anything but a dull Friday at the office.

My trip in pictures

Cultural Lessons

Friday Janelle and I decided to take our studying to the beach. It was a beautiful day and I had been craving the beach and thought in central California I might have a chance of being warm at the beach. We found a spot around Bodega Bay and staked out a spot not too near anyone with a big log that ran parallel to the beach so we could use it as a back rest. It was great for about a half hour. That is when the Hispanic family decided to have lunch just a few feet in front of us obstructing our lovely view of the ocean. There was wide open sandy beaches for quite some distance beside us either way, so why did they choose to plop down right in front of us? Janelle and I were a bit mystified. I made the comment that "We are in the midst of a cross-cultural lesson, but I'm not getting it." And I still don't get it. What made it more amusing is that after they had finished eating lunch they started wandering off, but left their stuff. All the guys had congregated for a game of soccer down the beach away from people, and several of the women were down there watching. Two kids were left to keep watch over their belongings which we helped out with when the seagulls attacked and the kids were playing down by the water. Can anyone explain this behavior to me? I'm really quite curious.

Janelle received some other cultural lessons during my visit. Apparently the concept of using honey to sweeten coffee was new to her. What was really new was malt vinegar and dousing french fries with it. I don't think she believes me that it's really tasty. Honest J - it's really good! :)

Girl seeks sun!

It always happens about this time of year. I develop a need, an overwhelming need, a compulsion, a driving desire, to see the sun. Unlike my brother who actually likes the drab overcast drizzly days I crave the sunshine. I crave it with a ravenous hunger. And not just the sun but sun and warmth. Don't get me wrong, I am a proud Oregonian, it is just the time between end of February to the beginning of July that I have a hard time with. I chalk it up to being born in Southern California. While I only lived there for my first two years, those early years are a very impressionable age and I believe all that sunshine imprinted my genetics with a need for sun. Further proof is my brother, he was born here in Oregon in March so it stands to reason that he loves the drippy days, that was his first experience in life.

This year I am going to soak up the vitamin D in Santa Rosa, California while I visit with two of my roommates from the Israel trip. I'll be staying with Janelle who lives just a short distance from the last house where my paternal grandparents lived. I haven't been back in over a decade so I am expecting some weirdness/sadness on that front. One day we are going to visit St. Helena and one of my food Meccas - the CIA - the Culinary Institute of America. I was hoping to take a morning cooking class but I dilly-dallied too long debating whether I should spend the time with Janelle and Debbie or take advantage of being in the area and take the class. Procrastination is the thief of opportunity. The class was full by the time I went to sign-up. Another place on the must visit is Bouchon Bakery owned by Thomas Kellar of The French Laundry fame. For the next few days I'm going to imbibe in the foods I enjoy and forget about my allergies, well, almost all of them. There is no food so tempting that I will knowingly eat bananas or mushrooms, it isn't worth the hospital trip. Yes, I'm a foodie and while the area is known for it's wine, I plan on enjoying the food. Most of all I'm looking forward to seeing Janelle and Debbie, just hanging out laughing and having a good time, being away from work and a computer, snagging some of Janelle's pics from Israel and ohh-ing and ahh-ing over Debbie's scrapbook.

The next five days are going to be great!

Better yet, I got bumped and stayed an extra day! I don't know how Janelle put up with me for so long. :) Love you J!

Don't Should on Yourself

The obnoxious ringing won't stop and my brain wakes up just enough to command my hand to reach out from underneath the warm fluffy covers and grope around for my cell phone - the source of the noise. Successfully finding it's target my fingers start pushing in hopes of hitting a button that will stop the intrusive sound. This is alarm #1, it's 5:50 am. I have ten minutes to deny the fact that I have to get up before the next alarm. Suddenly and all too soon a strobbing yellowish light is lighting up my bedroom. I squint my eyes to block it out and bury my face deep into the pillow. Once again the hand is sent on a blind journey hunting for the button to make it stop. This is alarm #2, it's 6:00 am. The trouble is this alarm clock's snooze button only grants a mere 5 minute reprieve. The hand will be sent on a journey to find the snooze button no fewer than 5 times, often more, before I acknowledge the reality that I must get out of bed. It isn't until alarm #3 at 6:30 am, emitting from my cell phone once again, that I start taking measures to force myself out of bed. Throwing off the covers so that the chill of the room wakes me up, turning on my bedside lamp, and maybe sitting up which makes it a little bit harder to fall back asleep... but not impossible. No one would ever call me a morning lark, not by a long shot, I am a night owl to the core. But there is something wonderful this morning - it is a Friday morning which means tomorrow is Saturday which means I get to turn off all of my alarms and sleep in.

I am particularly excited for this weekend because it will be the first in well over a month (maybe two?) that I do not have anything planned, no obligations, nothing dictating how to spend the time. My entire weekend is at my discretion. I can do whatever I want. As I start to think of how to spend these precious two days an impossible list quickly grows in my head. It is a list full of "must do..." "want to..." and "should do..." items. But Paula gave me some great advice many years ago:

"Don't should on yourself!"

So this weekend I'm going to take care of the "must do's" - laundry, paying bills, mending my suitcase (since it is going to be pressed into service this coming week it really is a must), send Bethie her birthday package, homework, and sleeping in - and if I have time and feel so inclined a few "should's" might get accomplished as well but it will not be out of a sense of guilt or obligation. I will not should on myself this weekend.

Cake Pops

This weekend was chock-a-block full of things that needed to be done: mid-term exam, homework, personal reflection paper, bills to be paid, birthday package that needs to be put together and mailed off (two months late already), bathrooms to clean, laundry, and the list could go on. But the most important thing this weekend was a baby shower for a co-worker. So forget all that other trivial stuff - I spent the weekend making cake pops for the shower on Sunday afternoon. Aren't they cute!! Thanks Bakerella for the inspiration!

Now for that mid-term...

Refrential Rainbow

I thought this was pretty amazing. Can you guess what it is? I know it looks like some sort of science experiment. Actually, it is a graph of the Bible's cross-references. The whitish-gray lines are the length of chapters in the Bible, each color represents the distance between references. Pretty cool, huh?!

Concoction

Did you know that taste buds have memory? They do, I'm convinced of it! While remembering the trip to Victoria, BC on which I took the picture below my taste buds started salivating. They were remembering something. It wasn't the high tea at Butchart Gardens, nor was it the beer battered fries at the Sticky Wicket Pub (which the Pelican Pub at Pacific City has much better ones). What those little buds were remembering, screaming for, was the strangest concoction I've ever imbibed at The Next Chapter bookstore & coffeeshop in La Conner, WA. I can't remember the name of the drink, but I remember asking what was in it and thinking that it sounded so strange that it had to be tasted. It was a combination of Coke, espresso, fresh squeezed orange juice, a slice of orange, and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Weird? Yes! Absolutely! I wasn't sure what to except and after the first noxious sip I questioned the choice of trying something so peculiar. I was tempted to dump it but the after taste was strangely good. I took another sip and my face involuntarily winced at the bitterness, but again after the initial shock the flavor was good and my taste buds were asking for more. It was a compulsion to keep drinking despite the initial taste, but it grew on me too. And as the ice cream melted it became very tasty. I have not attempted to recreate it - not yet that is - I think it may need to be attempted very soon. Have you ever heard of such a drink? Any guesses on proportions? It needs a good name... hold on, I'm going to try and make this thing and see what it inspires.

Update: I have since attempted to recreate the drink. It wasn't good. The coffee was leftover from the morning, the orange juice was from a container, and the ice cream was to little. It wasn't good, but it wasn't bad. I'm on the right track.

A life of its own

Elana walked into my office to ask a question about IQR and halfway through her sentence she pauses, looks quizzically at my bulletin board, and then asks with a confused and excited voice, "Is that your picture? I mean obviously it's yours, it is on your board, but that's not a postcard it's an actual photo isn't it?" Stumped at what she was getting at I offered a tentative, "Yes, it's a photograph. I took it up in Victoria, B.C." After my answer Elana squealed "I have that picture! It sits on my mantle with this light that hits it just right so that the flower looks like it glows. I always point it out to everyone who comes over. I even used it in a photography class I taught. You are the artist!!" Honestly I was a little confused but as we continued talking she reminded me that I had submitted it to the Lake Oswego Festival of the Arts several years ago where she had purchased it. What a wild turn of events that I met the person who had purchased one of my photographs. To add to the coincidentalness she lives in the neighborhood that I grew up in. Elana made me feel like a celebrity and a real artist which was very fun. But was nice to know that my photo was being enjoyed and appreciated.

Still Pals

Carol and I - still friends after all these years.  The friends who sticker together stick together!

Carol, Dave "Shoe" & me

Hanging out at Mt. Tabor park after the Western Seminary Alumni BBQ.  Carol's kids were getting a bit squirlley so we went to the park so they could run around.  It has been eight years since I finished classes, seven years since Shoe graduated, and Carol, we aren't sure when she stopped taking classes.  It has been a few years but we had a great time being all together again.  We were just missing Summer, Terri and Andrew, and Wayne for a full reunion.

Changes in the wind

I was walking back from the mailbox flipping through the few pieces of mail that had accumulated over the past few days since I last checked my box and thought, "I need to get a duplicate key made for Kate." And then it hit me. Like a wave overtaking me and knocking me over. My life is about to radically change - and I panicked. Kate isn't just coming to stay for a visit she is moving in, indefinitely. My home will no longer be just mine. My routines will have to accommodate someone else. My way of doing things may have to bend and become flexible. My life is going to be shared - no more hiding away in my home. Is this all a bad thing? No! I had to ask my self do I want to back out or change my mind about Kate moving in? No! Am I going to have to be less selfish and less self-focused? Yes! And that is a very good thing. Life is going to be very different this fall, but I'm looking forward to it. Just remind me of that the next time I panic. :)