Pride & Glory

Tonight. I decided that...

I AM A
Nut Case!

I have been training for a half marathon since the end of July. Not very well mind you, but at least halfheartedly training for a half. I only made it to about half of the group runs/walks. I've only logged about half the miles I should have. I've been plagued with feet issues from shoes that are just a smidge too small and toes that are just freaky weird (thanks, Dad!). But my determination to complete the race was 100%. Even though my preparation has been halfhearted (or half-witted) it has been my primary focus. I have skipped social engagements, gotten woefully behind in homework, all so that I could hit the pavement, trails and gym as often as possible.

Last Saturday was our final group walk/run before the race. Once again, I took a wrong turn and got lost, making up my own course as I went, keeping an eye on my fancy watch to gauge when to turn around to hit the mileage I wanted. My pace was easy as I was testing out new shoes, I only put in about 4 miles. I headed home determined to get some yard work done before the rains hit later in the week. So it wasn’t until the afternoon that I got around to showering, after which I started to trim my toenails. As I was clipping away my toenail on my right second toe started to move around and then lifted, flapping like a loose sail in the wind. Disgusting! I started poking around the toenail on the left foot and it too was lifting but had not separated from my toe as much. With a bad case of turf toe losing the toenails was inevitable but so gross. I wasn’t sure what to do, I was freaked out. Bandaging them up I decided to ignore them.

I knew loosing the toenails would happen eventually, but was hoping it wouldn’t be until after the race. But I couldn’t pretend there wasn’t a problem, I couldn’t just leave them bandaged until after the event. I had to call my podiatrist and see what was going on. But with that call came fear and apprehension that I may not be able to do the race. “What if Fitzy says it’s a bad idea? What if he tells me I’ll be doing much more damage if I continue with my plans?” It was then that I realized how much my ego and pride were invested in this little venture.

Doing this race was not just a personal goal, like a New Year’s resolution, this was a declaration. A triumphant return to my life. A demarcation of the official end of the recovery season from surgery. I had completed the flat half marathon on July 4, 2005 - it was the last race I did before inflicting the final injury to my back that led to the surgery. It seemed poetic justice to do another half marathon to signal my return. I have been focused on making this statement for the last three and a half months. I had been almost bragging about it in the last few weeks. I was feeling pretty proud of my accomplishment and it wasn’t even reality yet. I wasn’t sure if I could take the humiliation of backing out. Would my recovery be less true? No. Did it mean I hadn’t accomplished anything? No. It would mean that my pride would take a hit; it would not have the crowning glory I had planned. And that was almost more painful than my toes.

On Monday the doc trimmed off the old toenails to reveal teeny misshapen new ones underneath and gave me the go-ahead for the race. I exhaled relief, and signed with resignation; what can I say? I’m complicated. But I started to think about my priorities, about pride and the Biblical view of pride. I was starting to get uncomfortable. Then Tuesday came. I had my one year follow-up with the spine surgeon. He was impressed that I was doing a half marathon, but also admonished me to walk most of it, that a half should really be the cap for my distances; and then he checked that I wasn’t doing anything really crazy like bungee jumping or skydiving. I may be a nut, but I'm not stupid. I guess doing lots of halfs are not in my future, even with a bionic back. But that wasn’t going to stop me from doing this half. But Wednesday hit like a semi-truck. As I was getting ready for the day a muscle down my neck started spasming. I ignored it with the logic it would work itself out. But as I was driving to work, to see my blind spot I had to turn my whole body – not good. Thankfully my chiropractor was able to fit me in at lunch. I still had to support my head with my hands to lean my head back, but I could at least turn side to side which was a major improvement.

So despite banged up toes, warnings from the spinal surgeon, and a neck that is out of whack, come Sunday I am tackling a half-marathon. Yes, I am a nut case! But one who is going to “Run Like Hell” for 13.1 miles and feed my pride and make my statement!

360 Days Later

It has been one year since my spinal surgery on 9/28/2009. Am I 100%? Not quite. Was it a success? Absolutely! A few weeks before my surgery I went out for lunch to a Chinese restaurant and found this in my fortune cookie:
"A bold and dashing adventure is in your future within the year."

I taped it to my monitor at work. A sign of hope for a better future. The months following surgery were rough. But God's mercy has wiped my memory of how bad the pain was. I remember sobbing at my first physical therapy appointment because of the agony, but I don't remember the pain. And that is a blessing. Getting a bionic back has meant a new lease on life. A world that seemed lost to me has been regained.
Consider this evidence:
A month before surgery I was introduced to the Wiggs and the Micah Project. Ten months after surgery - to the day - I arrived in Tegucigalpa, Honduras for the first of many visits to come.

Last Thanksgiving my cousin Rebecca asked if I was still interested in missions. I told her that I was and in fact was thinking God is calling me to a group of street boys in Honduras. This Thanksgiving, I'll be with those boys! That in itself is wonderful, but being able to consider missions again is amazing.

In the spring, The Micah Project newsletter happened to mention that graduation would be November 13th. I put it on my calendar with a pipe dream of being in attendance. By the mysterious economy of God, that dream is going to come true.

Five months before I did the final injury to my back I completed my first half marathon. I thought it would also be my last. October 24th I'll walk/jog my second half and I'm on track to be at my fastest pace ever (which isn't saying much, I'm still pretty slow). And am planning on doing another half in December. I'm moving, I'm active, I've got my groove back!

As surgery was drawing ever closer my inability to cope with the possible negative outcomes were taking a toll. I started to see a counselor, which I have continued to see. It has been a year of bold growth personally.

Life is just better, it's good even. The nerve running down my right leg likes to occasionally freak out, a not so subtle reminder of what I dealt with constantly for years. But it isn't painful, just a nuisance. The vast majority of the time there is no pain. Not being in crippling chronic pain really changes my outlook. In the last year I've made some bold statements and dashing moves. Life has been interesting. But watch out world - I'm just getting started! God has been gracious, He has been mighty in my life and in my healing. All thanks and praise to Him!

Conversion Conversations

Me: "Should I send you the training plan for a 10k this fall? What about "How to improve your marathon training?""

Jon: "No, way! Stop trying to convert me! You can talk about religion all you want, but stop trying to make me work out!"

Love is a Many Splendored Thing

A couple weeks ago the group that went to Honduras did a Micah Team Report after the evening service. We watched the amazing video Jeremy created. After wards there was a 'townhall' style forum where people posed questions to the panel of Micah trip participants who alternated answering. We had a great time sharing about Micah and would have continued for hours more if allowed. The last question of the evening was, 'How has this experience impacted you personally and your faith?' I didn't share my thoughts that evening, but, if you'll indulge me, I will here.

The trip was a culmination of nearly a year of learning about the boys and the ministry. The story of the lives of each boy transformed from a two-dimensional list of factoids into a multi-dimensional spectra-colour person. The stories became alive and real, as if I had walked into my favorite novel and was able to interact with all my favorite characters. Actually, that is exactly what my first night felt like. As we walked into the Micah house and could take in the view, not limited by the border of a photo, and hear the boys talking and joking, I kept thinking - "This is so surreal! It's real, it's all real. The boys are real." The boys are indeed very real, and have made a significantly real impact in my life which can be summed up with one word - love.

Through their friendship my understanding of what it is to love one another has greatly expanded. But it reaches much further than that, my heart knowledge of the Father's love is so much richer for knowing these boys. Somehow in the process of learning to love the Micah boys simply because I am choosing to, I understanding in a new way how God loves me just because He wants to. It's a simple truth that has finally found its way from my head to my heart. And it has been so liberating.

God loves me just because He wants to. It isn't any inherent value of my own, not because of my potential and how I could be used, my accomplishments are not the reason; quite the contrary. If I were to be judged according to my own disposition and actions for my worthiness to be loved by the Sovereign God I would fall horribly short. For on my own I am rebellious and selfish, doing things the Lord despises. That is why God's love is so amazing! That while I was rebellious, He loved me. He loved me to the point of death so that my sins were atoned for and I would no longer be an enemy of God. Because of His love, I have worth. "But Christ did not die for us because we are valuable; we are valuable because Christ died for us. It is not for us to say to one another, "Worthy are you!"—which is the mantra of a great deal of modern psychology. Instead, we turn to God and say, "Worthy are you, O Lord our God!" (Rev. 4:11)."¹ I am not worthy, and never will be, I can set aside all striving and insecurity.

I'm discovering a beautiful cycle, that as I know God's love more, I love Him all the more, and as the love between me and my God grows, my love for Micah grows, and the more I love Micah, the more I love God. Over the past couple months I feel like the Grinch at the end of the story whose heart grew three sizes. My heart is growing and expanding, coming alive. Even on the hard days, when I say "no" to my own wants so that I can say "yes" to things related to the boys. Or when they run away and my heart aches, it grows larger still as I see myself in their rebellion, addictions, and poor choices and know that I love them still, as God loves me when I continue to sin.
I am learning that love is a many splendored thing!

"I have loved until it aches, and found that the love consumes the ache, so there is only love---much more love" Ann Voskamp

¹Love Needs No Reason by Mark Galli

Logos + Mac = A Very Good Thing

Logos makes some of the best (maybe even the best) Bible resource software. I've stuck with a Windows based computer for years because of this program. It was more important to me to be able to have Logos, than to have a Mac. Now I can have the best of both worlds! Logos is now available for Macs! Yay!!

Check it out here:
http://www.logos.com/mac

No, Not the Scrooge Kind

When you hear the word "ebenezer" what comes to mind? Ebenezer Scrooge? The famous Charles Dickens' character from A Christmas Carol is the only reference most people would have for that funny word. A character who is remembered more for his miserly ways than his turn of countenance at the end of the story. Those who have been part of a church that sings hymns may remember another use of the word, a line from the song, "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing,"

Here I raise my ebenezer;
Here by Thy great help I’ve come;

The word actually shows up in1 Samuel 7:12, the Israelites defeat the Philistines, after Samuel has offered a sacrifice. Samuel puts up a stone in memorial and names it Eben-Ezer - a 'stone of help.' The name Eben-Ezer also means "God has led us thus far" or "Thus far God has helped us."

Genesis 31:52 and 35:14-15 are a couple other examples of building pillars, stacking stones - Ebenezers - as memorials to important events. There is a verse somewhere, I can't find the exact reference (if you know it, tell me where to find it please), that talks about building stone monuments as remembrances of what God has done, a testament to future generations; 'when your children ask why this pillar is here, tell them of the great works of God.' It sounds like Exodus.

Anyhow, I latched on to this idea of "stones of remembrance," collecting my own personal ebenzers several years ago. I pick up stones at the places I travel to whether it be the Oregon coast or the Israeli desert to Picacho Park in Tegucigalpa. Sometimes, if I happen to find an interesting one on a walk around the neighborhood I'll pick it up too. So what do I do with these rocks? I use a Sharpie (you know I always have at least one with me) and write a word or two or a verse to remind me of a time where God's faithfulness, intervention in my life was more palpable. I keep them in a pitcher on my kitchen windowsill so that when I need encouragment, when I need to refocus, when I need a reminder of who is really in charge, I can reach in and grab a stone and remember what God has done in my life in the past and know that He is faithful, He will continue to work in my life.

For almost a year now I have been looking for a specific stone; a heart shaped stone. I have known what I would write on this stone, but have not been successful in finding the stone itself. I started my summer at Cannon Beach and had spent quite some time searching for the elusive heart stone. I even found one that sorta looked heart shaped but I accidentally dropped it in a drive way made out of gravel and it was lost. Labor day holiday weekend found me at Cannon Beach again, it is one of my favorite places after all. This most recent trip I had success. I actually found two. The only issue is that they are not palm size, more like fist size, the fist of Andre the Giant - they won't fit in the pitcher, so they are now sitting in my front yard. But now I have two - do I use only one? Or do I come up with a second word? The word that has been mulling around in my head waiting for a stone is... (drum roll) MICAH! Not surprising, is it?

So help me out peeps - which rock is more heart shaped? Which one should have Micah scrawled on it? what should happen to the other rock? Any suggestions for another word?

What would be written on your ebenezers?

The Phantom Critic

I feel the need, the need for speed. No, that's not it. I feel the need to defend and explain myself. To whom? No one in particular. The phantom critic, the person who has read my post-Honduras update and is bashing me for referring to Hector and Wilmer as "my boy" and questioning my "motherly love." I questioned my word choices as well. I tried to think of another way to describe what I feel towards the Micah boys, because it is not just Hector or Wilmer who are "my boys" - they all are, and that really is the best way to say it. I know, I know, they aren't really mine, truly, they belong to God. The love I have for them is most akin to a maternal love, and wouldn't any mother call her sons "my boys" with the understanding that they are her responsibility, they have been put in her care, entrusted to her by God. And that is not unlike how I feel; that God has imbued me with a deep love for these boys that is motivating me to help carry the responsibility of raising and caring for them. I just can't come up with a better word than "maternal" to describe it.
I have no desire or illusion of being their mom, they have mothers. Some are involved in their lives, some have passed away, some are absent, some are a positive influence, some are not, but they have mothers - and it isn't me (we need an equivalent of the African notion of "Auntie"). What I can be is an adult figure who loves them, just as they are, who will stand beside them through their ups and downs, a stable positive constant, teach them how to navigate life, encourage them to be their best, point them to God, training them up in the way they should go, who will continue to love them even when they throw it back in my face. Why? Because that is what God does for me every single day. It's all about the love of Jesus. Because He loves me, I need to share that love. Because He first loved me, I can love my boys. Because He loves me, and has given me this love for Micah, I will do the hard work of loving. To the boys, I'm just one of many visitors that came down this summer; I'm just the crazy gringa who spoke gibberish that no one understood, who spit water on Hector, kissed Wilmer (and others), and had a camera permanently attached to her hand - that is, if they remember me at all. Before I can be that 'caring adult figure' I have to earn the right, earn their trust and respect, prove myself, before I can speak into their lives. That will take time, years, and it won't be easy. But I am driven to take on this challenge by the love of Jesus. What other source could give me the strength to sell my cute home (and my books, which may be more painful) and move to Honduras? It's all about the love of Jesus, baby!
And there I go again, talking like it's a done deal!

This is my response to that phantom critic who lives in my head, and hopefully only there.

*One more note about Hector, "the son I didn't know I had." If I had ever had a son, I'm certain that the resemblance in personality and temperament to Hector would have been uncanny. That's all I meant.

Honduras Updates

Call me paranoid, I'm fine with that. But I didn't want to post on here about my trip to Honduras until after I was back. I didn't want it known to anyone on the web that my house was going to be sitting empty. Now that I'm back (and occupying my house, any potential robber can go away) I'm posting my pre-departure update and my post trip update.

Pre-departure can be found here:
HondoUpdate#1

Post trip update can be found here:
HondoUpdate#2

The fonts and some of the links got mixed up along the way. They are still readable, just not as pretty. And the links, well... copy & paste, my friends!

Who needs words when there are pictures:
picasaweb.google.com/stregerlady
An album for each day I was in Honduras.

A Typical Joniffer Conversation

Jon: I don’t like the sound my new belt makes when I sit down.
Jenn: You got a new belt!?!?
Like three weeks ago! I’ve been waiting for you to notice.
I’ve been gone, then you were gone. Plus, I didn’t think you would ever replace that other belt. Did it finally disintegrate?
Pf… that belt is instructable! No, I just couldn’t find one I liked. Or, indestructible.
Ha! Ha! Belt, you will go through the keeper and stop at this hole, and tighten around my wait.
Yes, I instruct my belt every morning. “Belt, today you will hold up my pants.”
Ugh! You’re wearing a brown belt with shirt that has black?! What a faux pas!
Is that not okay?
You shouldn’t mix the color of your accessories. Although I’m wearing a brown belt and black shoes. But I intended to wear brown shoes but changed my mind once I was downstairs and didn’t want to go back up to change my belt since I was already late. I figured my sweater would cover the belt anyhow, so it wouldn’t show.
How do you know this? Does everyone know this rule? Was it something you were taught or just know?
Ah.... yeah, I guess it was taught to me.

Love

Today I've been trying to collect things for the garage sale next weekend. While trying to get one box down from a shelf I sent another one upside down, spilling its contents - old journals. I couldn't resist taking a peek as I started to put them back. I found a quote, maybe from a sermon, from July 22, 1992, that is worth sharing:

"Love is an action of caring for others like God does for us. We can't show love without knowing God. Nothing proves our love for God more than our love for others. Love is an attitude, love is a prayer for a soul in sorrow, a heart in despair. Love is goodwill for the gain of another, lover suffers long with the fault of a brother."

I think I'll stop reading there before I'm mortified by my younger self. :)

The Inbetween

In the early hours of the morning while irrational thoughts make perfect sense, contradictory ideas can co-mingle happily, and the alarm isn't loud enough to break the spell, my mind creates a happy place. This morning as I hit the snooze and while drifting into that nether place I started to think about what I should wear today: 'Yay! Street kid soccer tonight, so grubby jeans, and not a white t-shirt like last week, that was a challenge to get clean and I want to play with Esther.' My next thought, 'My feet are cold, there is a sharp chill in the air coming in; I didn't expect that from the forecast last night. Good thing if it's really going to be 90 today.' And then reality starts sinking in - street kid soccer is in Tegucigalpa, the weather is for Portland; I can't go to street kid soccer if my feet are cold. My heart sank as the truth came into focus. I am no longer in Honduras, haven't been for a week, playing with Esther at soccer will have to wait - much to my disappointment.

Today was filled with thoughts of remembrance about last Friday, my last real day in Teguc. It filled me with longing to be back there. A deep ache welled up in my chest as I thought about how much I missed the boys. Oh, I miss 'em like crazy! I know the longer I'm back it should become easier, not quite as sharp & intense, but I don't want that. It's good motivation to be diligent in learning Spanish, among other things. I love these boys and that isn't going it change.

While the in-between of sleep and awake allows me to happily remember, and believe I am in, Honduras. Once awake I find myself in a different kind of in-between; living in Portland but having my heart in Tegucigalpa. How to navigate this in-between is uncharted territory.

Bumper Beauties

Art comes in many different forms, and I enjoy many of them, one of the better forms being classic cars. The size of the engine is irrelevant, it is the swoop of the bumper, the gleam of the chrome, detailed door handles - that is what I enjoy. This weekend was the Concours d'Elegance in Forest Grove, the better classic car show in Oregon. It had been a few years since the last time, so today Dad and I went again. I still had the borrowed Lensbaby and the cars would be a great source for testing it out. It was a challenge to get the focal sweet spot just right. The field of view is quite narrow so to get a whole tire within the frame I had to be relatively far back, which was hard to do considering the number of people milling about. My favorite continues to be the early 1950's Corvette. The BMW Isetta was beyond cute. A beautiful Cobra could be felt in your chest as it rumbled by up to the stage. An intriguing find was a Tatra, a sports car made in Czechoslovakia during the Cold War era. How did it makes it's way from Communist Czech to Milwaukie, Oregon? One beautiful 1948 Ford was being shown by the original owner. Dad and I couldn't decide which should be classified as the antique - the car or the owner. So many beautiful cars, I think I was born in the wrong era. (more pictures here)

Friday Funnies

It has been awhile since I've posted any of my office interactions with Jon. Since he made me laugh to the point of nearly squirting tea out my nose I thought I'd share.

I was half listening to Jon as he talked about this website he had found last night of pictures of an exotic gun collection of a busted drug dealer. Or at least that is what I thought I heard, I wasn't really paying attention. He mentioned something about the odd pets these type of people have, but couldn't think of one. I offered the suggestion of "komodo dragon." "Yeah, like that! Weird animals." To which I off-handedly said, "Did I tell you that I almost ran over a peacock the other day?"
Stunned silence. I took a slurp of my ice tea.
Slowly, an awe filled response, "That may be the most awesome sentence I've ever heard." It was at this point that my mouthful of tea almost came out my nose.
Somehow I managed to swallow it down and answer the ensuing questions, it was a couple weeks ago, on a side street in Lake Oswego, yes - I stopped and stared it down until it moved to see if it was real, and no - I didn't question if I was crazy and seeing things, didn't occur to me. Oh, it was too funny.

A little later we were walking to Starbucks and a tabby cat went shooting across the street with amazing speed. Jon exclaimed, "Geez! It's like wild animal kingdom out here!"

As I walked back to my seat at Starbucks with drink in hand I noticed Jon was staring at my right forearm. "What did you do this time?" he asked. "You're just now noticing it? I've had this bruise all week." With an exasperated sigh, "You know how unobservant I am." Of course I told him a prolonged detailed story of how the vacuum cleaner attacked me. To which he just shook his head.

Missy, Jon's wife, cut his hair the other day and he has been fussing over it constantly ever since. "As soon as I cut my hair, I wish it were long." She did a really great job, but he can't figure out what to do with his bangs. We both have that issue. I offered him one of my little clips that I keep in my desk. "While I do wear barrettes and make it look good, I'm not going to do that here."

As we were waiting for the elevator to head out for the day, "You know how bad my memory is and how unobservant I am; each day for me is brand new. I get to do goal structures today? What's that? Sounds like fun!" Ha! Ha! Yeah, you keep thinking that, Jon.

Bonus funny story from Thursday:
I walked back into our office with my lunch that I had just heated up. Jon asked, "Why do you always do that?" "Do what?" "You always heat up your lunch right before a meeting." "But I'm hungry." "But we have a meeting in 15 minutes." "What? I thought we had more time." "I always feel bad for you. You heat up your lunch and eat two bites before you run off to a meeting and it just sits here getting cold. I wonder if I should cover it... but I don't. You need someone to take care of you." "I know, I do." Jon was a little surprised at how quickly I acquiesced. "Isn't that in your job description? I think that is the whole reason you are here, (in a silly voice) 'Take care of scatterbrained Jenn.' "

Garage Sale for God's Glory

Two years have passed since the last garage sale endeavor of my mother's and I. Not quite enough time to forget the pain, annoyance, and work involved in having a sale but the stuffeth over floweth, so a sale will be had. My brother moved to New York City last week and left everything he didn't want or need (e.g., dishes, pans, etc.) with my parents to deal with, including a vehicle and a townhouse - anyone need a 4Runner and a garage in Beaverton to park it in? I keep a container in the garage that is my designated donation box. The past year I've been saving it up for a garage sale. When Janelle was up visiting over Memorial Day, she helped me purge the stuff in my garage. The box is now heaped and other boxes have been pressed into service. Unfortunately I am on my own to purge the rest of the house. It won't be very thorough, it's not as if I am moving to NYC into a teeny shared apartment, so why bother? Why, indeed. Because of God's glory.

Having a garage sale for God's glory may seem rather strange. If our purpose as Christians is to bring God glory, it requires us to be refined and purified from those things that detract us from this goal. We need to remove whatever idols and little gods we have in our lives which dilute our passion and effectiveness. Like a professional athlete who trains with diligence, perseverance and determination to receive glory in their sport; likewise, Christians should be training too for God's glory. We are in a battle, we need to be fit warriors.

Still wondering how a garage sale fits into the picture? I live in America, a culture known for it's consumerism. We are consumed with having stuff. This does not bring God glory and traps our heart. Stuff in itself is not bad. A couch is a comfortable spot to sit and write my random thoughts on this blog. Some stuff is necessary, even nomadic tribes and ascetic monks have some stuff. But what happens when a single person has too much stuff? They get comfortable, sated, complacent, immovable. Being comfortable and content isn't necessarily a bad thing, but when that is valued more or keeps a person from following God's leading it isn't a healthy place to be. I recognize that I am getting closer to that line than I would like; my comfortableness is making me uncomfortable.

As I talked with a friend last night, sharing a budding idea about moving, she asked in dismay, "You have such a great home. You would give up all of this?" I realize it is a very un-American attitude to think of selling my home, most of my possessions, pick up roots. Yet I don't want to be so comfortable that when God says, "Go!" that I stammer with excuses of being comfortable, settled, and unable to obey. My answer to the question from my friend, "You would giver up all of this?" was - "Absolutely." A conviction doesn't mean it will be done easily. I have many fine things that I inherited from my paternal grandmother, items I have never once used - they don't fit my lifestyle, but they are my connection to grandparents I hardly knew, a substitute for the relationship that wasn't there. I also have items from my maternal grandmother, not quite as fine but greater treasures because of the dear relationship with my grandparents. Passing these things along will not be easy, heart-wrenching actually as I have made them a substitute for the person they represent. Since I am not moving imminently, those items will be held on to for a little longer. I want to use the gold filigree Wedgewood demitasse cups at least once before I sell them.

Many other things have no connection to relatives that are just taking up space and weighing me down. Taking inspiration and a cue from my brother, I'm starting a purging process. Making room for something new in my life. Ironically, my new House Beautiful magazine arrived this weekend and the theme is 'small living' and each article talks about paring down to the essentials, small spaces needing to be uncluttered. How nice of God to send me another source of inspiration and instructions. I better wrap this up, I've got work to do!

"DUSK" is NOT a Time

I've been picking up my camera fairly regularly lately. It is still too much of a mystery of how to operate it and get the results I want. The only remedy is experimentation and lots of use. So the Tigard Balloon Festival seemed like a great opportunity to try some different environments. In the evenings they have "night glow" when the balloon owners turn the burners on just enough to inflate the envelope but not lift off. Sounds like a great photo op, doesn't it? The night glow was scheduled to start at "dusk." Dusk. What time is dusk?

I waited until the sun was just about down, 8:30 pm this time of year, and headed over to the park. I asked the first parking attendant - "Are they still doing the night glow?" "I am sure they are, they like to wait until it's good and dark." he answered. I asked the next parking attendant who took my money, "Is the night glow still going on?" "I don't know, probably." I was feeling much less confident but paid the fee anyhow. At the admission gate I asked once again, "Is the night glow still going on?" "If you hurry, you may see the last few. But the ticket is good for all weekend, you could come back tomorrow for the launch." Argh! After paying to park and the ticket I turned down the street to head to the park and was met with a wall of people - leaving! I raced down the hill and made it to the entrance just in time to see the last balloon go down. I was so mad. Dusk! Dusk is NOT a time!! I was there, may as well make the best of it and take some long exposure shots of the carnival rides.

Once home I was still grumbling that I had forked over the money for "nothing." I decided I'd show them; stick it to the man! If I had to pay for a weekend ticket, I was going to take advantage of it. Despite the fact I wasn't going to bed until a little after midnight, by gum, I was going to get up at 5 am and go to the balloon launch! That'll show 'em! How silly, like anyone would care; I was only depriving myself of sleep. The balloons would wake me up at 6:30 when they started floating over my house, might as well wake up early and join them.

I still had a bad attitude in the morning. I was determined not to pay anymore money for this weekend adventure so I parked on a side street and hoofed it to the park. It may have been my bad attitude that motivated me to skip sleep and go early to the balloon launch, but it ended up being great. The balloon launch was really fun and interesting. I spent a couple hours taking shots, some actually are good. Since I was up, might as well get my workout in. I was already dressed in my gym clothes so I headed straight to Tualatin H.S. to use the track. To my delight, some of the balloons were landing. I grabbed my camera and ran to the other side of the campus, following a balloon as it came in for a landing. After it came down in the parking lot, the crew tethered it to a trailer and truck and started giving rides! Without the crowds around I was able to get up close for some shots, talk with the crew and learn a lot about hot air ballooning. Best of all, I got a ride! We only went up maybe thirty feet, but it was fun. It ended up being a great morning. Now how often does a bad attitude lead to a great day?

The Big Red Box

Sometimes, I scare myself. Today I had one of those moments. I was wandering through The Container Store checking out what was on sale. Down one aisle I spotted a box, a big 12x17x3 red leather lidded taffeta lined box, on sale. After hemming and hawing, trying to convince myself to get the paperboard version that was a little less than half the cost of the red one, I went with the leather one. I could justify it because I plan on having this box for a long time to come. There is a very specific purpose for this box: to hold all the ephemera that constitutes the memories of my life. My memory has more holes than a fine Swiss cheese. Keepsakes of good times are stuffed into various boxes, envelopes, etc. to jog my memory, fill in those holes. But there is too much. Thus the red box, I'm limiting myself to what can fit inside this box. Plenty of things can be scanned and stored away electronically. But for those things that I want to hold onto the original, they'll go in the red box- and only the red box. Why pare down to just this one box? Simplicity, less clutter, focus on the essentials... and if I happen to move, it will make it a little bit easier.

Okay, just imagine the bottom box in a deep red.

Heading to Honduras Hoping for a HUG!

Click on the text to see this larger and more readable. If you would rather, I can email it to you as well.

Twilight

I really do not understand the appeal of Twilight but the vampire fever has swept through all generations of my friends. Fans come from former students who are now in high school to women my mother's age. Curiosity got the better of me and when the first film was on TV for free, I did watch it. I was creeped out. Not so much by the idea and notion of vampires but by the values and attitudes that were highlighted. Trying to explain it to my co-workers who are fans I was at a loss to articulate my opinions more than "It felt insidious." To which I was met with confused stares combined with a suspicion that I was a bit crazy. Yet I have good company. I found an article by a woman with a doctorate who was able to make the arguments I would, if I could find the words. I am by no means a women's libber, not by a long shot, but if any of my former student were to start dating some guy that was controlling and isolating her from her friends and family, subjugating her, I would throw a fit, as would you, so why is it okay for Edward and Bella? It may be just a 'harmless' fun story, but values and morals are taught through story, myth, and fairy tales. I am not saying I agree point for point with this woman, but overall I do. Find the article her:

Why This Middle-Aged Woman Loathes Twilight | Psychology Today

And this is from a secular point of view. There is an element of spiritual allusions and I think that is what creeps me out the most. How Edward refers to himself as the lion and Bella as the lamb. Ah, no... God is the lion, the Lion of Judah. Yet Edward does behave as a demi-god, a very controlling one at that. And when he steps into the sunlight and is all sparkly, my thought was, 'Yeah, and Lucifer was the most beautiful angel too.' Those are the two that stick out in my memory. Insidious. I tried to explain my point of view to a friend who is a Christian, who is a Twilight fan, her response was essentially 'It's only a story. Vampires aren't real, what is the big deal.' And the frog thought, 'It's only a pool of warm water.'

Okay, stepping off my soap box now.

Going Retro in all the Wrong Ways

As a teenager I was spared that hideous right of passage that most all of my friends and classmates were forced to go through. Apparently my escape wasn't to be life-long. As my birthday approaches ever closer, that odd year where no longer can I say I am in my mid-30's, but not quite into the late 30's - not just yet, for the first time in my life I'm dealing with acne. I've had the occasional blemish, but nothing much or consistent. It has been a blessing. As a highly insecure teenager, I don't know that I could have handled dealing with constant break-outs.
I remember junior year, chemistry class, two friends were talking about their zits and one looked at me and made a disparaging comment about my clear skin. The other friend insisted I was just covering them up and promptly lifted my banana roll bangs (it was the 80's after all) to prove her point. She was somewhat dismayed when proven wrong. I don't know how I got so lucky, up until now that is.
Ever since my surgery I've been having a horrible time with acne. When I mentioned this to the spinal surgeon and his P.A., their response was, "huh." Gee! That's helpful, thanks. For whatever reason, my face has decided to revert back to my teen years and make up for lost time. It's awful. It's maddening. It's embarrassing. This has been going on for almost nine months, I hit my limit. This week I went to the dermatologist for my biannual mole check and while I was there, asked her for help with the blemishes. Being in my mid-late 30's I should be more capable to handle this issue, but no. It may be less traumatic than if I were in my teens, but it is still a challenge to my self-image. Hopefully the cream from the doctor will do the trick. But I have a theory of what is happening that the cream may not help. Here is my theory: surgery took a lot out of me energy wise, I'm still recovering and trying to regain my energy. I sleep, a lot,and even deeper than normal. I've woken up more than a few times drooling. I think I'm drooling more than I am aware of and that is causing the break-outs. It makes sense, right? Who knew that could be a side-effect of the surgery? Ugh.

Sabbath & Me

I've been struggling with the question of Sabbath in our modern era. In Exodus there are very clear commands that we are to keep the Sabbath, a day of rest set apart for God. I'm all on board for having a day of rest, a day to put aside the distractions of the mundane everyday, slowing down so that we can reflect and focus on God; it's like hitting the reset button. On days where I do slow down and put aside the to-do list,the shoulds, oughts, wannas, and do what connects me with God, life is so much better. Yet as a modern day single lady it's hard to carve out a whole day of no work. With only 7 days in a week it's hard to take care of all the chores - laundry, dishes, cooking, bills, cleaning, etc. - and work a full-time job. Then add on top of that maintaining relationships, trying to get fit, be part of church and ministry, and all the other good stuff that fills my time. It's just all too much. How is one to keep the command of the Sabbath? Really, I am asking, how?

Today I tried to make a couple errands/to-do items more "Sabbath-y." I still needed to get some things accomplished but perhaps they could be done in a way that would promote rest, reflection, connection. One thing on the list was to go to the Eddie Bauer Outlet store in Woodburn to pick up another t-shirt and see what other deals might be had. Why not do that and then head out to Mt. Angel Abby to write the support letter that should have been done a week or so ago. It was a lovely day, the Abby was beautiful, as was the drive, had some interesting conversations with God, and I even got a first draft done of the letter.

But then the drive home happened. Just pass the Donald exit, the last exit for many miles, traffic came to a screeching halt. The trip took three times as long as normal. There is just something so wrong about putting a car into park while in the middle of the freeway. Since I didn't plan to be gone as long as I had, I didn't have any snacks and it was dinnertime. As we creeped slowly forward in short increments, my bladder likewise was filling. Not a good situation. Not very Sabbath restful. But what are you going to do? There is no where to go. Sit back, relax, laugh at the kid hanging his head out the window looking pitiful, pop in a Rich Mullins CD and go with the slow flow. Maybe it was God's way of slowing me down and giving me a Sabbath rest after all. Is it wrong that I am disappointed that after an hour of sitting on the freeway I wasn't even rewarded with seeing what caused the shut-down?

A Reason to...

...Use Paper Towels on Door Handles.
This morning I had trouble waking up, nothing unusual. I hit the snooze, again, and again, and again. Finally lifting my face out of the pillow I tried to open my eyes, but had trouble. My right eye was all gunked up and wouldn't open. I managed to get it clear only to see an eye that was beyond bloodshot. It was a day for Visine. Drop, drop, drop, and let it do its work while in the shower. By the time I put my contacts in my eye looked normal. I was good to go. (This is building up to something, really.)

A couple hours later my eyes were feeling horrible. Time to switch to glasses. Grabbing the glasses I keep in my file cabinet for days like this I headed to the bathroom where a bottle of saline is kept. While I scrubbed my hands everyone's favorite mug stealing soup nipper came in. Despite everything she still surprises me. WARNING: You may not want to continue reading, think about it, the setting is in the bathroom and I'm writing about soup nipper - do you really want to know?
So, for those brave enough to keep reading, as I filled the contact case with saline and plucked the filmy contacts out of my eyes, soup nipper came in. She came in, went through to the stalls, made use of one and was back out in under a minute, maybe even under 30 seconds. What?! Women are not capable of such speedy use of the facilities, they're just not, especially older women! I'm certainly not and I'm half her age. It makes me wonder how she manages, or what she is doing. I don't want to think about it, but I couldn't help myself. I decided to leave it at one possibility - a colostomy bag, it would be quick to empty - I think, maybe, I don't know. I don't want to think about it.

But the story doesn't end there. In my world after using the toilet you always, always, always wash your hands. And to wash your hands properly you should wash them for 20 seconds, about the time it takes to sing "Happy Birthday" or "Jesus Loves Me." Apparently that is not true for soup nippers. In her world one quick millisecond swipe under the faucet is sufficient. My only response - (shuddering) EWW! If someone has a need of a toilet, they have a need to wash their hands after wards and that includes using soap. And that is the reason to start using paper towels to open the door when exiting the bathroom at work.

...Be Thankful For The NBA Playoffs.
Walking out of the locker room and into the main cardio area of the gym I was surprised at how empty it seemed. Granted, I had left work late and was getting a slow start, but it is rare that my favorite treadmill is available on a weeknight, even at 6ish. It wasn't until about the time I was leaving that I realized, with a big "OH!" that the NBA playoff game was on. Of course the guys would chose to watch the game in a more enjoyable place than the gym! C'mon Lakers and Celtics, take it to game 7! Just have those games on weeknights when I'm at the gym.

...Not Take Your Style Cues From Star Wars.
I was doing my floor work, finishing up at the gym, when a young guy joined me in the general area. I was laying on my side facing him while doing leg lifts. First I noticed that he was wearing Chaco sandals, so I put him in the outdoorsy yoga rock climbing group. But what really caught my attention was the bright red shade of his toes, especially his little toe. We are talking seriously red to the point I almost asked him what was wrong with his feet, if he had had frostbite at some point. I thought better of it and controlled my curiosity. Then I noticed he had one long small braid behind his right ear with the rest of his hair rather short. He looked like the teenage Anakin Skywalker from the 2nd (or is it the 5th) Star Wars movie. Some people need to choose who they model their personal style after a little more judiciously.

Neighbor & Matchmaker in one!

When I arrived home after my spending spree at the garden center I noticed that there was a white Highlander parked in the drive way of the unit next to me. I had seen the same car there are couple of times this week, most of last weekend, but never any people. Today was different, there was a woman in the garage. I poked my head around the corner and called "Hello!" An older woman in a black and white striped t-shirt with dark curly hair turned towards me and quickly returned my greeting introducing herself, Judy. She immediately asked if I had children, I answered "No, it's just me here." "Oh, you must work awfully hard, I haven't seen you once all week when I was here cleaning. Are you engaged?" Slightly startled I fumbled a negative answer. This delighted Judy, "I have a single son! He's in his early 30's. He'll be coming down for our open house on Memorial day! You'll have to met him." A little later her husband, Gary, came out and as soon as the introductions were over Judy made a point to inform him that I was single, and that they'll have to make sure I meet the son (I didn't catch his name).

Oh, good golly I think I might have to accept Manuel's application for boyfriend! Looks like I'm going to have my hands full with my new neighbor. At least it sounds like the son lives a bit away, he won't be around much.

Manuel, applicant for boyfriend

My relationship with Manuel started several months ago. I pulled into the Chevron down the street from my home to fill up on gas one afternoon. Manuel was the only attendant and he stuck close by my car. He tried making some small talk, "How is your evening?" "Oh, good." I'm not used to talking it up while getting gasoline. I had asked for a fill-up with the discounted car wash - my car was more dirt than car. As he handed me my receipt he carefully pointed out where it showed that I had pre-paid for the car wash, how much I had saved, and "you have very beautiful eyes." Huh, what?! My brain couldn't register his last statement as it didn't have anything to do with my car, gasoline, or a car wash. He repeated himself, "You have very pretty eyes. Are they green?" "No, they're blue. Thanks." "They are very beautiful. Have a good evening." Weird, but amusing.

A few weeks later my gas grill ran out of propane. Having never been in need of propane before I didn't know what to do. I noticed my local gas station had it for sale and figured that if I showed up while Manuel was working I guessed that I could bat my eyes and have him take care of it for me. I guessed correctly. While he was filling up my propane tank he asked what I was planning to fix - hot dogs. He suggested carne asada, and that I should invite him over. I agreed that carne asada sounded much better than hot dogs, but I had been craving a grilled dog covered in sauerkraut and topped with a little veganaise so I was going to stick with my original choice. He said I could bring him one, that he still would be working for a couple more hours. I just laughed it off. Manuel was very helpful, he did everything, even putting the tank back in my trunk, and wrote up the receipt for less than what actually went in. Did I feel a little guilty for taking advantage of him? Just a twinge. But it's just so hard being me with my beautiful eyes that I can use to persuade guys to do work for me.

It has been awhile since I've been in desperate need of gas so that I'll go to the Chevron instead of Costco, but today was one of those days. The needle was precipitously close to the E and I didn't want to take the extra time to go to Wilsonville for the cheaper gas. After all, I'd only save maybe a buck. As I pulled into the Chevron I noticed my buddy and wondered what he was going to say this evening. Manuel did not disappoint. As he was giving back my debit card he was sounding out my name, "Yenn-e-fair. Hen-i-fir. That is your name?" "Yeah. (he hands me the card) Thanks." I start digging around for the wallet I just had in my hands to replace the card in it's slot. But then Manuel is back at my window, "Henny-fur, are you married?" "No." "Do you have a boyfriend?" Long pause - do I lie to try and create a barrier or tell the truth?? "Do you have a boyfriend?" "Not at the moment." Good compromise, truth but with enough edge that maybe one is imminent. "Can I have an application?" "Ha, ha! That's a good one." He walks off with a grin. He brings me my receipt and is studying it, "Ginn-e-fer, is this number right? 503-637..." "Ha, ha. Nice try." "Can I have your number?" "No, I don't think so." He hands me my receipt and then reaches into my car and squeezes my shoulder. He tells me, "Have a nice evening. I love you." "What!?!" "Just kidding. See you next time." And again, he reaches in my car and gives a couple squeezes to my shoulder. Part of me is incredibly amused and humored by the interaction with Manuel, another part is screaming don't ever go back there.

Got Fierce?

Got Fierce?

That is the tag line on the bottom of a poster at the gym. There are other posters with other lines, but this one struck a chord with me. The take off from the milk commercial is getting a bit old. The use of the word "fierce" to describe things is getting a bit passe. Yet, "Got Fierce?" is a good question. It is possible that I have been reading too much lately about how Christians are warriors and need to have that mentality, and being fierce is necessary. Sin and darkness are rampant, aggressive, persistent. Fighting it requires fierceness.
So let me ask you,

Got Fierce?

Ode to Lilacs

I love lilacs. Ever since my trip to Ukraine in May 1995 where they were prolific, I have loved lilacs. They don't seem to grow as well here as they do in central-eastern Europe, why is that? As I turned the last corner towards home on my evening walk I came across a lilac bush in bloom! My heart leaped with joy and a giant grin spread across my face! I cupped my hands around head after head, shoving my face into them, inhaling deeply. What a glorious, yummy scent. I was reluctant to leave the corner. Deciding to play by Czech rules, that anything growing into public areas is fair play, I broke off a branch that clearly went past the fence and was protruding into the sidewalk area, and quickly hurried past the house towards home delighted with my contraband flowers.

It's a what?!?

I just don't know what to say about this. Notice the strips of garbage bags creating a "mane" on top of the car. What you can't see well are the various zebra stuffed animals along the back deck, the zebra seat covers - both front and back, the zebra disco ball, air freshener, seat belt cover, and best of all - the head of a zebra stuffed animal attached to the front grill. This guy (yes, a guy was driving this thing) really, really likes zebras!

6 Month Anniversary

Ka-POW!! I did a 5k in 48 minutes with change. Now that is the way to celebrate my sixth month anniversary post-surgery. I'm still not at 100%, but I've been told I need to be patient, it will probably be about a year before I get there. I'm not sure I am that patient, but it's not like I really have a choice.

Thursday, April 1st, marked my last physical therapy appointment. It was sad, I even got a little choked up saying good-bye. Although it was quite fitting that my last workout and time to harass and tease Damon and Jarret was on April Fool's Day. The whole crew at North Lake Physical Therapy are fantastic. They have been patient and kind when I cried with every move, could barely walk at a 1.5 mph pace while wearing a huge back brace. Once I started feeling better (and got off the drugs), I started getting a bit sassy, no longer burst into tears and P.T. become fun. Damon has been really good at challenging and pushing me. He started me on a great program, Core Performance. But now it is up to me to keep moving forward and getting buff. *sniff*sniff*

Daylight savings is an extortionist

It has been a hard week, whether I can really attribute it to the time change I don't know. But I have been rather snarky this week, hitting Jon with every snide remark and low blow that came to mind. He provides plenty of fodder, usually I'm better at holding my tongue - not this week.

Jon: You have been really grumpy since you can't eat anything.
Jenn: It's the lack of sleep
Jon: You don't have to agree so quickly!

Jon: I gotta tell you, my self-esteem is down here this week (placing his hand around middle of his shin). And if we had a therapist on staff we would be in their office right now. I would be crying and you would be in soooo much trouble!

We had three interviews for a new admin this week. As we were prepping for the interviews, looking over the standard questions, Jon decided on creating his own that he thought would be the most important:
-How do you work with people you don't like, such as Jennifer Streger?

I think we are heading down a slippery slope of sarcasm.

Conversation with Damon

I laughed at myself the other day talking with my physical therapist, Damon.

Damon: "So how is the knee doing?"
Jenn: "Actually, really good. Except the left one, it's pretty sore, but that's because I fell on the sidewalk and landed on it Tuesday evening."
Damon: "Yeah, that could make it hurt. You shouldn't do that."

a little later

Damon: "That's a nasty bruise on your arm, how did you get that?"
Jenn: "I was talking to someone getting off the elevator as I was getting on and the doors closed on me, got me in the arm."
Damon: "Watch out for those elevators, they're vicious."

and yet later

Damon: "What was that??" (referring to a loud popping noise)
Jenn: "Oh, my shoulder. I feel down my stairs once and landed on it. It's never been the same since. Occasionally it just has to pop."
Damon shares a story about his back that used to pop but hasn't since he has started this new program that he is starting me on.
Damon: "Remind me, how did you injure your back?"
Jenn: "Playing soccer in 9th grade, I ran into a mole or gopher hole and fractured the vertebrae."

When I do balance and flexibility activities I do really well. But apparently in everyday life, I'm a total klutz.

Hopefully the deep purple bruise I accidentally inflicted on myself yesterday, in a very stupid way, will be faded enough by this week's appointment so that I don't have to explain that one as well.

Oh, Jo(h)nny Boy...

Jon, my work partner. Yes, that's him to the left. The first part of "Joniffer." He keeps me entertained, hopefully he can entertain you as well. Here's a sampling of our life from the past few weeks.

[Previously, I've chided Jon to recycle his soda cans. One day I gave him 'a look' as he got up and was about to throw away a can or juice bottle into the garbage.]
Grabbing his can, "I'm not leaving my DNA around for you! I don't trust you."
"I'm gonna take your DNA and clone you to make my own Jon army. Maybe you'll get your work done that way."

We were talking about movies one afternoon. Jon was talking about Inglorious Bastards, a movie that he owns, and that I should watch it. I quietly said, "Maybe someone should let me borrow it, if they really want me to see it." There was no answer from Jon, he kept staring at his computer. After a minute or two I couldn't help but ask, "Did you hear me?" "Yes, I made a mental note." "Oh, okay, it's just that you didn't respond." "Geez! I'm going to start getting in trouble like I do at home. (Doing one of his voices to mimic Melissa) "Are you listening to me?"" He has yet to loan me the movie, must not have been a very good mental note.

I made the comment to Michele about Jon, "He's a total smart alec." To which he very quickly responded with a little snippityness in his voice, "I think you're just projecting!"

me: "Jon, is AK Alaska or Arkansas?"
Jon: "I'm so manly that when I her AK, I think AK-47!"

Jon decided to play Houdini for a good part of today. He just disappeared for chunks of time. One of those chunks was just before 10 am, our coffee run time of the day. It wasn't really a mystery where he was, I could hear him and Sarah G. talking in her office. We haven't been going as regularly since I've changed my diet to exclude all foods I'm allergic to, which rules out everything but black coffee or tea. Limited options. But today I was totally jonesing for coffee and decided I'd cheat a little (which means a little half & half in my drip coffee). I waited for Jon, and waited, then waited some more. I thought about just going on my own (oh, the horror!) I thought about IMing Sarah to prompt them to wrap it up, it's not like their conversation was work related - and I needed my coffee. Instead I kept working until he came back to our office. As he walked through the door, Jon said "Do you want to go to Starbucks today?" "Um, YEeeAH! I've been waiting for you. I almost went without you." "Pffa! You wouldn't remember how to get there without me!"

Some fun Jon quotes:
"Why don't you complain like I do? You should try it, it's fun!"
"I've decided my peak time is Tuesday, a lot gets done on that day."
"I wasn't even potty trained by then!" ("then" being age 11)

Kooky Kind of Family

The last few weeks have been somewhat dull in Joniffer land. I guess we've actually been working. I was thinking the other day how the 3rd floor is a kooky kind of family. So I thought I'd introduce you to some of the other characters that I work with that also brighten up my day. Where to start?

Kristi was my work partner before Jon. She's still part of the team, just in a different role. Last week she came to our office to ask a question of Jon, I had tuned them out until I heard Kristi mention how much she likes Skittles and could eat them until she is sick - and has. Jon said, "You can puke up a rainbow of colors." "Magically delicious!" was Kristi's response. Ew! Yet, even after hearing this, I bought a huge bag of Skittles for my candy dish on my desk later that week. I've been seeing a lot more of Kristi, the Skittles have been disappearing quickly too.

Speaking of Kristi, a huge Johnny Depp and Tim Burton fan, she is very excited for the release of Alice in Wonderland. Did I say she is a huge fan? I meant gianormous. Her computer desktop has been a revolving show of pictures from Alice. One caught my eye the other day when I was in her office and we started talking about the movie. Kristi mentioned that she is re-reading the book so she knows the real story, 'but Tim Burton usually sticks really close to the original story, he'll do a good job with it.' It took all my strength to not double over laughing. Do you not see the humor? Oh, well, read this post from "Stuff White People Like" and then re-read her comments. Are you laughing now?

Jon and I had some good laughs over the "Stuff White People Like." Although some of it was embarrassed laughter as we recognized ourselves. Banksy? Yeah, Jon is a fan. Vespa scooters? One of my fantasy vehicles. Jon felt his cool factor go back up a notch when he read that white people actually hate tattoos of dead people. Check out Jon's left arm, he has made a full commitment to tattoos of dead people. I don't like sushi or Barak Obama and have never seen "Mad Men" or "Arrested Development" - that is my redemption. But Moleskins... I do have one, it's my appointment book. I didn't chose it just because it was a Moleskin, but it did lend to its appeal. It really was the best choice and met my space-allotted-for-each-day criteria. But what is Sarah G.'s excuse for her multiples of mini-Moleskins?

If the stuff white people like is a barometer - Sarah G. is ghostly white! She's vegan, likes hummus, grocery co-ops, listens to NPR, supports Teach For America - a non-profit, etc., etc., etc. Sarah G. (yes, I have to use last name initial to distinguish her as I work with five, yes, count them - five - Sarah's) has the office right behind Jon and I. There is a transom window in the common wall so we put messages to each other on the window occasionally. And, unfortunately, Sarah directs the scornful gaze of the ceramic nun and the haughty disdain of Sir Cat in our direction. These lovely works of art, purchased at the Goodwill, were gifts from Jon and his wife, to Sarah. They creep me out. They unnerve Sarah as well, which is why they look down into our office. Monday Sarah used her lunch break to do some grocery shopping at Trader Joe's. I was sitting in the lunchroom actually eating lunch when Sarah came back. She stuffed her bags into the fridge, then put a mango and a single package of fruit leather on the table in front of me. A random gift from her, to me. And in case you are wondering, it's a chocolate dipped peppermint stick and a couple cashews in the vessel the nun is holding. Random!

The media team is a special collection of guys. Kyle and Matt are the audio geeks. They were filming or doing some project down in the office of our CEO who is just down the hall from Jon and I, so they were passing by our office window frequently. Kyle doesn't say much, maybe that comes from listening to audio clips all day. In fact he doesn't show much expression at all. But last week I saw Kyle laugh and chuckle to himself, not once but twice and both times at me! You need to know that my desk is up against the window so that I look out at everyone, and everyone looks in at me. One of the incidents he walked by the office and chuckled at the faces I was making as I tried to make the numbers in my database reconcile. He laughed, actually laughed! Another piece of background information you need to know is that our office tends to collect bad smells, really, really bad smells. And, NO! It's not from the occupants. It was one of those times when the stench was more than anyone should have to endure, so I stuck my knuckles up into my nostrils in an attempt to block the smell. Kyle walked by and guessing by his sympathetic chuckle, I must have looked pretty ridiculous.

And then there is Matt... well, he's Matt. Most people don't like him or are put-off by him, but not me. From the start I always assumed his snarky comments were just for show and effect, and so I laughed at him. Guess that put me on his good side because he's always been 'nice' to me. In January 2008 I was walking from the lunchroom back to the lab, when Matt comes up beside me and asks, "Do you like cheese?" Cautiously I answer, "Yeah." "Great! Here you go, your own block of fine Chavarti cheese food." And Matt hands me a triangle of shrink wrapped Hickory Farms processed cheese food. Nasty. It's not even real food. I put it at my workstation and there it sat, past its expiration date. I left that June to go to Israel, not sure if I would return, I passed the cheese to Paul and left it in his keeping. My first day back at the office as a regular employee I stopped by to say hello to the contractors in the lab, Alan being the only one I still knew, and he was now the keeper of the cheese. Alan offered it back to me but I was generous enough to let him keep it. Later that day I came back to my desk to find the Chavarti proudly sitting there. Matt made sure that I got it back. He has since added to my collection with a block of Sharp n' Smooth processed cheese food. Lucky me! The other day he was standing in the doorway chatting and he spilled some tea on my (short 2-drawer) file cabinet, he sat down and wiggled back and forth wiping it up with his bum. Goofy guy.

Jeff is not technically part of the media team but does a lot with the media team. He is an odd mix. He loves karaoke, plays in a band, is quite cynical, and a master of the fondue. He sat in our office whining one afternoon about how he is so busy with the FACE committee and the media team that he doesn't have time to actually do his official job. He mentioned how much time the FACE committee was taking, which he wasn't expecting, and Jon asked why he participates. Jeff's answer: "I get joy from other people's joy." Said with mock sincerity. You might need to know Jeff to get the funny in that comment.

Soup nipper

I only have one Joniffer story to add today, but I have another story involving a familiar co-worker for your enjoyment too.

As you would expect from co-dependent co-workers, we spent the majority of Friday together. This included "secondsies" - our 10-ish am coffee run. And when I decided to take a short walk around lunch time to drop off my dry cleaning, Jon came with me. A little later when I decided to eat lunch in the lunchroom, getting away from my desk for awhile, Jon did likewise, even though he had already used all of his lunch break going on our walk. While we sat at the table chatting, our tummies full, our manager walked in. My first reaction was slight panic. Was she wondering why we were just sitting in the lunchroom? Especially at 2:30 pm? Would she notice our lunch paraphenalia and know we were legitimately away from our desks? She then started laughing and mentioned, "You two make me laugh! Don't you ever get tired of each other?" We simultaneously answered, "No." with a shrug of our shoulders. Jon's answer may have been more of an "eh" but that means "no," right?

As for my other story, it involves a character mentioned previously who likes to steal my coffee mug, let's just call her "Old Lady Lips" or Ollie for short, to protect her identity.

For the greater part of January the company sponsored a food drive to benefit the Oregon Food Bank. There was good friendly competition between floors; sadly the third floor lost the Golden Plate award this year. The food donation spot was on a table in the lunchroom. One day a case of soup showed up on the table. I noticed it only because I had just bought one can of the same soup at the market and it triggered an idea to bring it in for lunch the next day. The food sat in the lunchroom for many weeks, even after the food drive was over. Some brazen co-worker about two weeks ago must have forgotten lunch and decided to appropriate the case of soup for their lunch. At that time the case went from being part of the donations for the Food Bank to sitting open on the counter next to the microwave. I was stunned that someone was so bold as to take food from the donation pile.

Now fast-forward a few weeks to yesterday. I walked into the lunch room to heat up my stew (yes, more stew.) and was shortly joined by Ollie. While I spooned my barley turkey stew into a bowl, Ollie took a can of soup out the box and started to open it up! I was gobsmacked! She was the one who had taken the soup from the needy? As I tried to process what I was witnessing, she said, "Do you know who brought in this soup? It's really good." WHAT!? I abruptly tell her, "It was originally part of the donations for the Food Bank." Ollie may have picked up on the disapproval in my voice as she attempted to come up with an excuse, "Oh, it must have come in too late to be picked up." Having to duke it out with her for my mug two days before had not left me in a generous mood. "Actually the food was only picked up this week and the soup has been on the counter for a few weeks, and was on the donation table for several weeks before that." She remained quiet for almost a minute. Instead of offering yet another excuse, she said "It's good soup. I wonder where you can find a box like that." I informed her it was from Costco. "Really??" she responded in that annoying high pitched nasal voice of hers. I simply made a "um-hum" sound instead of giving voice to the thoughts in my head - 'no, not really. I'm lying about where you can find soup in some plan to trick you to make a visit to Costco to find soup only to come up empty. Why would you question and doubt me over something so trivial?'

While I would be mortified and ashamed to be caught eating the soup, Ollie didn't even seem flustered. She didn't seem bothered by the fact the soup was intended for the needy and poor, or that the food was counted as part of the donation of the third floor to the Food Bank, and she was eating it. Nor did she seem to recognize the boundaries she had crossed, she was blissfully ignorant of the rules of community office life. I don't know why this surprised me after the incident earlier this week. And I don't know why I guffawed when she put her bowl of soup in the microwave before me, even though I had been there first. I couldn't handle being in the lunchroom with her anymore. I left my bowl on the counter under the microwave and went back to my desk to wait it out. I know it's petty on my part, but I had had my fill of insipidity for the day.

Coffee Runs and Coffee Mugs

Monday
Sitting at Starbucks, reluctant to get up and go back to the office, Jon and I just sat, holding our drinks, looking at each other. With brow furrowed, Jon said, "I should be honest with you," With concern rising, I also raised an eyebrow. He went on to say, "I feel like I'm fighting something, like I might be getting sick. So you might want to keep your distance." "I have some EmergenC in my lunch bag." "Aren't you worried?" "About what?" "Getting sick! We essentially live together." 9 hours a day in a 10' x 8' room, guess we sorta do live together; maybe I should be worried about his germs.

Wednesday
Returning to our office after the team meeting I inform Jon, "I'm still jonesing for my 2nd coffee." Swiveling around in my chair I looked out the transom window that leads into Sarah's office which has real outside windows, and checked if the sun was shining yet; it was. "Actually I just want to get outside."
"No! Not allowed!"
"What!? Not allowed?"
"No, you're never allowed to go outside the building during the work day."
a moment later
Jon: "Do you really want to go to Starbucks?"
Jenn: "Yeah, but you don't have to come with me."
Jon: "No, I want to come."
Jenn: "How have I become so co-dependent? I live on my own, take care of myself, I'm independent, yet in the last two months I've become co-dependent on my co-worker!"
Jon: "Whaaat?" (Jon's favorite word)
Jenn: "I can't go to Starbucks by myself, I can't eat lunch by myself - I've become co-dependent!"
Thankfully, Jon thought it was funny - I think, I hope - he laughed. We might as well be attached at the hip, conjoined co-workers, my brother from a different mother.

As we walked over to Starbucks I whined about how a particular co-worker keeps taking my mug. Our office has a lunchroom on each floor and there is one cabinet for personal mugs, which in theory are not public domain. Apparently, this one gal has decided that my mug should be hers. Jon tried to help me come up with ways to deter her from taking my mug. His idea was to lace the edge of it with a disease such as herpes, gonorrhea, or syphilis. Hm. A little drastic. As we waited for our drinks, Jon scrunched up his face and asked, "Can you really drink from that mug again? She's had her lips on it! It's had old lady lips on it! Eww!!"

Later as we sat in our office I made some comment which prompted him to wonder aloud if it was going to get physical between me and this co-worker. I told Jon, "I can take her." To which Jon said matter-of-factly, " Well, I know that." This is the second reference he has made this week to me physically fighting. What does he think of me?

Life with Jon, always amusing.

Conjoined Coworkers

Tuesday - 8 am-ish
Jon: Sooooo... did you bring a lunch today?
Jenn: Yeah (said disappointingly)
Jon: You don't sound very excited about it.
Jenn: No. It's stew. I'm not in the mood for stew. Plus I forgot to bring the cheese and sour cream. It isn't nearly as good without the condiments. (Quick scan under Jon's desk where he normally stashes his lunch) Did you not bring a lunch?
Jon: No.
Jenn: oh! We should go out for lunch!
Jon: But you have stew.
Jenn: It'll keep in the fridge until tomorrow.
Jon:Whatever.

11:45 am
Jenn: I'm hungry, what are we going to do for lunch?
Jon: I don't know, you've got stew.
Jenn: But I don't want my stew. What are you doing for lunch?
Jon: I don't know. If you don't eat your stew what are you going to eat?
Jenn: I don't know, what are you going to eat?

this goes on, back and forth, for quite some time.

12:30 pm
Jenn: You've never been to Burgerville?!?
Jon: No. Is it good?
Jenn: It's very tasty. It's the only fast food that the author of Fast Food Nation will eat.
Jon: Why?
Jenn: They buy local produce, they can trace the meat back to the ranch or farm.
Jon: That's such an Oregon thing.
Jenn: So should we go?
Jon: Are you sure you don't want your stew?
Jenn: (exasperated) no.
Jon: I think we should go to Burgerville!
Jenn: Okay! Let's go!

Actually left around 1 pm, we had to debate a bit more.

Wednesday 12:30 pm-ish
Jenn: What!? No lunch again? What happened to last night's leftovers?
Jon: There weren't any.
Jenn: Do you want some stew?
Jon: Noooo... I don't want to take your stew!
Jenn: Really, do you want some stew? There's more than enough for two. Wow! That rhymed!
Jon: It sounds like Dr. Suess!
Jenn: I like Dr. Suess!
Jon: You should write a book and start with that! Yeah! Yeah!
Jenn: The Stew for Two book! But seriously, do you want some stew?
Jon: What kind of stew is it?
Jenn: Turkey barley. I remembered the condiments today, so it'll be good. I'll go heat some up while you think about it.

As I start serving up a bowl for me, still not sure what Jon is going to do, he saunters in and looks at the bowl.

Jon: It looks good. I don't want that much, that's fine.
Jenn: This is my bowl! You can serve yourself.
Jon: (grabbing a bowl from the cabinet) Eww! I'm going to get salmonella. Is it really clean?

Joan: So what's the deal? You're bringing lunch for each other now?
Jenn: He didn't have a lunch today, I had plenty, so I'm sharing my extra.
Joan: He's your work husband!
Jenn: Don't let him hear that!
Joan: I have my car husband, we commute together.

(at the same time)
Adam: So you two are the 1pm lunch crowd, huh?
Jon: Yeah...
Adam: Do you just like to eat later?
Jon: Well, we do Starbucks at 10, you see.
Adam: Oh, got it!

Jenn + Micah = CAKE

Hey Ya'll!!

It's Valentine's Day this Sunday! Time to think sweet for your sweetheart!

Help support an amazing group of boys and young men by bidding on a cake auction.

Click here for all the details:

http://jennsfavoritequotes.blogspot.com/2010/02/jenn-micah-cake.html