Elective torture

I am currently on a 9 day running streak. I decided I need to stay active this winter, but set the bar low -- all I need to do to maintain this streak is run a mile a day. It's hard to say no to 10 minutes.

No Show

I was out of work on Friday taking a personal day, but I received an e-mail invitation to a meeting from my boss for today, and I accepted it (this is our routine for scheduling time). Our department, which includes the two of us and our awesome office coordinator, has been working on a proposal to realign some job responsibilities in order to free up our time to spend with kids. You know, because we're school counselors. But, we were proposing our idea to our principal today, so needed some time to get things together before that proposal this afternoon.

12:45 rolls around, and he's not there. He operates on a somewhat informal clock, so our coordinator and I started looking over the proposal and chatting, making some edits. 15 minutes later, he's still not there, so I call over to the office where I know he's talking with colleagues, and asks if he will be joining us or if he has a timeframe. "5 minutes," he says. 10 minutes later, he's still not there, so we wrap up and I go on to take care of all the other things I could and should have been doing during the 25 minutes I wasted waiting for him to arrive at the meeting he called. WTF?

I enjoy my boss a lot. We work well together, get along, and can be pretty frank with one another. But today, I was not feeling very collegial. I was feeling pissed. I know that things come up. I know that his other meeting had some big stuff going on in it. But we needed to go over our proposal and for the love of the good Lord Jesus he was the one who scheduled the meeting. If you're not going to show up on time, what's the point of setting the time aside?

I acknowledge that I am a pretty structured person and that working by appointment works for me. I know that if anything, I err on the side of being too rigid. That said, I think it's incredibly impolite to blow off an event where people are waiting for you. It send the message that their time isn't valuable. Which really rubs me the wrong way.

Luckily, we have the sort of relationship where I can express this to him, which I plan to do tomorrow. I don't want to stew and be resentful, so I'm just going to put it out there. Here's hoping he's able to hear me.

And God grant me patience, which is something I need to work on as well.

Getting Dirty

This past summer, I had a garden. It was amazing, and though I am biased, it is also true. See?

I began the fall with a freezer full of food, and we even bought a new chest freezer to accommodate some of the extra.

In the spring, digging in the garden felt absolutely essential and therapeutic. I planted seedlings indoors, I tilled the whole thing by hand outside, I watched my seedlings sprout and grow and I felt good again after my SAD winter (which, I'm afraid, is something of an annual occurrence I'm working to manage). But then, there's this interim period between the joy of seeing new things grow again and the eventual harvest, and all of my motivation got sucked away as the weeds got crazy and my veggies were still too small to crowd them out. In the end, the product was great, and I'm pleased with my pickles and frozen veggies, but I also realized this past year that I (shockingly) bit off more than I wanted to chew. The yield wasn't worth the misery. (Don't get me wrong, I spent many happy hours in the garden as well and ate much healthier this summer than I have in a long time, but I'm talking straightforward utilitarian happiness vs. product here).

So, I decided to make some changes and scale back. This was part of an initiative that our department at work took on this year to tackle the essentials of our job and let the rest fall away. I realized that I was overdoing it in my hobby-life as well. Turns out that I don't have to supply my family with our sole source of vegetables for the winter...because I live less than a mile from a grocery store. I also can make choices about eating more locally without having to grow things in my garden, hence our decision to join a farmstand CSA this year which was magical. In keeping with these ideas I was rolling around in my head, I determined that garden is essential, but that it didn't have to take over my entire summer and that there were smarter ways for me to set it up to minimize my workload and maximize my enjoyment. For goodness' sake, when you take on a hobby voluntarily, it should never feel like torture (except running. That will always feel like torture).

I decided to do some lasagna gardening, and built some very low frames to outline my beds this fall. I decided to start with four 4x4' beds, and see how that goes. I loaded my beds with a layer of cardboard and newspaper, then compost, grass clippings, and a big old layer of leaves. They're about a foot tall now, but should shrink down over the winter. The cardboard is meant to smother weed growth, and in this type of gardening, plants are put close enough together to shade out weeds better than in row gardening. I'm planning to do a bed of tomatoes and basil next year, and some combination of carrots, beets, onions, green beans, peas, squash, and greens. Maybe even some flowers (I've promised Claire sunflowers). I've plotted out about 5 different garden plans, but have decided to put those away so that I have some process of gardening to enjoy in the dead of winter (namely perusing seed catalogs and drawing my beds).

I think it will be much more manageable this year, especially since in my household, there are only 1.5 gardeners (Claire is learning, but her stamina is low at this point). I value the fresh produce, but also my sanity. Like anything in life, it's a balance.

I Think I Have a Book Inside Me

I once read this title of an article, aimed at people who wanted to write and needed the motivation to sit down and do so (incidentally, it also sounds like a medical problem, or an episode of "Sex Sent Me To The ER"). In any case, I not only think I have a book inside me, I'm sure of it. Does that mean I have an intention of setting it down on paper? It does not. For myriad reasons, such as 1. I have a two year old. 2. I work full timeish. 3. When I think about how I want to spend my time, it's not sitting down and writing a book. 4. Just because there is something inside me doesn't mean I have to listen to it. There are a lot of things inside me, skills I could tap into and reveal if I tried hard enough. I have an incredibly narcissistic view of my abilities. But I've also learned with age that I don't have to do everything. I'm a grown-up now. I don't have parents I'm required to please anymore (though I still get an intense sense of satisfaction when my father recounts my accomplishments).

The other day, my colleague asked if I had a bucket list. I explained that I did not, because if I want to do something, I just do it. I'm not impulsive my any means, but I just don't lack the motivation to make things happen. Remember that one time I started running in March (from scratch) and completed a half-marathon that same July? That wasn't on a bucket list, I just wanted to see if I could do it. I could.

I did consider, however, that our family could use a bucket list, specifically a travel one. It's very hard for me to get the motivation to plan travel, mostly because travel feels like such a hassle. But I believe strongly in its value, and want the aforementioned two year old to experience the seeing of things the same way I did when we were kids. We didn't take world vacations, but my parents did a fantastic job of loading us into the car each year in the week after Christmas and taking us to places that were within driving distance. We went to St. Louis. We went to Chicago. We went to Toronto. We went to Gettysburg. We went to some town in Indiana that has a giant toboggan run. I want that for Claire, and I think a traveling bucket list would be a good idea.

In any case, the conversation sparked a little twinge to write that's been missing for awhile. So, I'm back. Right at this moment. I know enough not to make promises for the future. It won't be a book...for now. But you never know.

Bloggin' here, bloggin' there.

Last week, Ann e-mailed me and asked why she couldn't find my new blog entries. Well, because there aren't any. I've been busy lately, primarily with my other crafty blog endeavor, but also with life. You know.

But life is kind of poopy right now. My cat and husband give me sanity, but my job is stupid and it's really putting a damper on things.

See, I work with kids, and I like working with kids. But the whole professional (or lack thereof) aspect of my job, where I have to interact with adults who are in charge of determining how things at my place of employment run, makes me crazy. Absolutely crazy. Because we're a small non-profit, everyone is expected to just pitch in and make it work and cover for everyone else to get things done, and I'm feeling kind of done with that. I've had a lot of "coverage" (substitute teaching on our planning periods) lately since people have been absent, and I feel like I've been given the short end of the stick as far as scheduling is concerned with a lot of tough kids, and I feel discouraged after an attempt to apply for a position that would have been a promotion, and the position going to someone else. None of these things along are enough to make me dislike my job, but together, they make me insane.

I'm a pretty sarcastic individual, and I'm ok with coming off a little darkly. But in my place of employment, this is a big no-no, and I feel like a miserable and bitter person because it's very frowned upon NOT to be happy-go-lucky and adaptable and flexible all the time. And those three words do not describe me. So in addition to feeling frustrated, there is no one to just sit around and bitch to about the frustration...and sitting around and complaining is key to my coping. It just is. So when I do complain, I feel like a bad person, and when I feel like a bad person, I feel like I don't belong at my job, and when I feel like I don't belong at my job, I feel anxious that my work colleagues think badly of me, and when I feel anxious I get miserable.

So blech.

Here's the rub: The economy is bad. Turns out that's sucky. I'm in a position where I'm working on a plan to return to school full time starting this summer, and working toward my degree and licensure in school guidance counseling. Assuming this plan goes forward, all is well. The problem is, I want to leave my job now. Seriously. However, that would be dealing with 3-4 months of minimal employment on my part. The other unfortunate this is that dear husband has a job, but is currently contracted and not full-time. His teaching position is supposed to go full-time this summer, but it's not for sure yet. And until that is for sure...well, we can't really afford me going back to school.

So I can't quit. But the thought of another trimester at school makes me insane.

So that's where I'm at. Miserable at my job, barely holding my frustration together around my largely-silly colleagues, and wanting to get out without that option right now.

Blech.

On the bright side, I have a kitty.

Sucessful Marriage

A couple weeks ago, I went to see the movie Julie and Julia. I was less than enchanted with the storyline about the woman cooking through the cookbook (although it did inspire me to create a blog with some theme and, you know, get a book deal and make millions...but that is less-than-likely to happen), but I was very taken by the marriage between Julia Child and her husband, Paul. Aside from being an adorable couple (which I attribute in part to their real-life partnership and in part to the magic of Hollywood and amazing actors), they were just so functional together, which was quite nice to see. No doom and gloom and discord for them. Thank you for the change of pace, Hollywood.

Now, I've always been very pragmatic about marriage, even before I was a married woman myself. I have never been under the illusion that marriage is a cakewalk or that there won't be tough times. I subscribe to the philosophy that marriage involves a choice every day; that you wake up every morning and recommit to your spouse, regardless of the feelings or happiness or frustrations that are a part of the current nuptial milieu. I admit to stealing this philosophy from the movie "Keeping the Faith," but it seems sound advice. I think that recognizing this as a philosophy BEFORE I got married allowed me the chance to really commit to the decision I was making the day I got married. It wasn't a whim, it wasn't all romance and hearts a-flutter, it was me committing to choose marriage each day of my life. I know it sounds ridiculously pragmatic and void of emotion, but this frame of mind is, for me, a solid underpinning for a strong marriage.

The beauty of my marriage thus far is that, along with this boring and practical undercurrent, married life has been fun! I genuinely enjoy being around Andy. We have fun, we laugh, we joke, we understand each others humor. We like to do the same things (well, some of the same things), and those things that we don't share as hobbies, we're tolerant of when the other partakes. In the movie, Julia and Paul seemed to similarly enjoy each other, even after several years of marriage, which was just so darn pleasant to see. I hope that as I grow older, and come into my own (in that hopeful, morphing and growing as one ages kind of way), Andy and I continue to enjoy one another, and have fun together. If we don't always, I'll continue to choose marriage, but I think that we'll be far happier if we're able to maintain the humorous and enjoyable connection we have now in our relative youth.

Creativity

Once in awhile, I am filled with an urge to be creative. To literally create things. I'm feeling it now, burbling up from the inside, and screaming to come out.

The problem is channeling the creativity. When I was at home, I found Dad's old camera from middle school. Which is actually now MY camera because he gave it to me. When I was in high school, I went through a photography phases, and became slightly obsessed. And, if I do say myself, I was good, in an untrained kind of way.

But picking up the camera this time gave me a feeling of seeing things differently. I was amazed at the difference between digital and SLR photography. Not just the mechanics, which are, of course, different; rather, the mindset you must adopt in order to compose a shot with an old 35mm camera.

You cannot point and shoot. An SLR is designed in such a way that you must be patient to complete the act of taking a picture. First, you must compose a shot, looking with your naked eyes at the world around you, and figure out which small slice of what you see will make a photograph worth printing. Only then can you put the camera to your eye, and adjust the focus and the light. Sometimes, the picture you wish to take simply cannot be taken with the combination of light, film, location, and subject you have in front of you. You would end up with an overexposed negative, or perhaps a blur on the page. But if the light is workable (and oh, SLR, how much light you do require!), then you move onto the focus.

Dad's old Pentax came with a single lens. I have a zoom lens that I bought later, and it serves its purpose, but the non-zoom, simple lens forces you to work within limits, and use the constraints in a creative way. Often, in a single shot, you cannot focus on the entire scene in front of you, but must choose a foreground or background object on which to train your shot. These pictures have amazing depth.

I flitted around this past weekend shooting pictures of home, including many shots of my husband, and the surroundings I grew up in. In an act of sheer irony, I, forgetful about the processes involved with my beloved machine, popped open the door of the camera before rewinding the film, likely exposing the roll and ruining the pictures. I chalk it up as a learning experience, and hope to salvage a few from the beginning of the roll.

Off to Costco tomorrow, which I have been told does a quite nice job of developing. And then onto the magic of waiting for the prints.

Wedding pictures

I had a relapse in my wedding photos obsession this week. So I made a slideshow. I think I am now cured.

I like being Catholic...usually.

So, I consider myself a relatively liberal Catholic, but a Catholic nonetheless. My mom's is Catholic, my dad agreed to raise us as such, and my upbringing in my lovely little church at home in Ohio was a good one -- it's full of good people and good memories.

Yesterday, however, Andy and I were at Mass, and all was going well...until the homily took a political turn. Which is a red flag/flashing danger sign for sure. In the near future in Vermont (our current home state), this is a vote on whether gay/lesbian couples will be allowed to enter into marriages. Now, it is no secret to me that the Church is against marriage being anything other than one man, one woman, and it is something that I have accepted that I will just have to disagree on, but the tone of the sermon (by our priest who I really do like) was pretty negative. He used phrases such as "under a mistaken notion of equality" (which I'm sure he would also use if I argued that women should be priests), and at the very end, got very negative when he warned that if this were passed, "they" would demand that a priest marry them as their "right," and then priests would be considered civil disobedients and put in jail.

Now, I won't disagree that that might happen -- I know enough about Civil Rights movements to know that testing those limits is part and parcel of the struggle. But the characterizations that gay and lesbian people are out to jail the clergy is, I think, wrong. And I have to imagine that even if this passed, it would be pertaining to marriage in a civil sense. I don't think that they could force religious to change their views and perform sacraments that the religion doesn't believe are valid. Perhaps I'm naive, but I do have a certain amount of faith in the separation of church and state.

As my Dad always says, "If you're going to be Catholic, be Catholic." I have to disagree with him. I'm willing to take some bad with the good. But for the longest time, I had no framework for my gut feeling that homosexuality is NOT a sin, despite the fact that I consider myself to be a Catholic. I got one last year at Pre-Cana, however. At one point, our leader was talking about a formation of conscience, and how we have to pray about things we are unsure about, and allow our conscience to form. I think that my opinions about homosexuality have really developed under such a model. I know that the Church finds it wrong. I really feel in my heart, however, that is isn't. I'm suspicious of all the talk of a "natural order," when homosexual beings have been around since the beginning of time, and I'm not convinced that the ability to procreate has to be a criteria for "natural." I just can't wrap my head around that.

I'm hopeful, despite the horror that the diocese is feeling, that this particular issue changes to allow homosexual marriage, although I would also hope that church opinions would be respected, and that no clergy would be forced to perform any actions against his beliefs. I guess we'll see how it turns out.

Academia

A few weeks ago, I got a hankering for academia, and e-mailed my adviser from my master's program asking if she would second-author my thesis if I worked on turning it into a journal article for publication. She of course agreed, and told me to send her a draft when I had one.

I've been dragging my feet for weeks on said pare-down, and with good reason. It's a major undertaking, at least in theory -- the thesis was 100 pages plus, and a journal article needs to be around 20 to be submitted. I was dreading the task, but when the star aligned and I got a full weekend off from my part-time job, I figured it was a sign that I should probably take the plunge.

After hemming and hawing all day yesterday, I got up early this morning, and holed up in a nice little coffee shop with an espresso-laden drink that gave me the shakes, and a great soundtrack of 1940s music that they had playing. And about half an hour in, I found myself really enjoying my work, and missing academia. What I was doing was, for the most part, academia-light, but I loved being immersed in my research again, and putting together something that might (fingers-crossed) be put out there for other teachers/researchers/academics.

I got accepted into UVM for their MAT program for next year. This is a part of the hoop-jumping I have to go through to be a real live certified teacher. Part of me is excited, and part of me is groaning internally. This kind of writing and research won't be involved, and I know going in what to (generally) expect. But it WILL be learning, nonetheless, with people who want to learn and discuss and improve their teaching, and that, at least, will be mentally stimulating to a degree. But today's work has started a twinkle within me to think about doing the Ph. D. thing in the future...maybe even in education, which I swore up and down that I would never do. I guess the distance I have from last year has given me a little perspective...but I would still have a lot of mental convincing to go.