With Christmas fast approaching I know the New Year will be here before we know it. Rather than wait until the last minute to declare some goals for 2018. So here's what I'm going to do. Or at least attempt to do. It doesn't make much sense to keep these goals to myself. People need to keep me accountable and once they are out in the open people can ask me about them. I haven't fleshed these goals out for all of you but trust me, they are more elaborate on the sheet of paper I wrote them on. I will hang it on desk as a constant reminder of what I am going to do. I encourage others to make their own list of goals for the new year. Being a young adult is tough; too much time is spent in this floaty land of uncertainty. Some times things feel out of control and you don't know exactly where you are headed. Put some concrete ideas/tasks/projects in place to create a path of guidance for the coming months.
Bre's Goals for 2018 (as of December 11, 2017 and in no particular order)
1. Learn to cook with spices and herbs
2. Run a half marathon
3. Get married
4. Read 36 books total
5. Build a library in the basement
6. Completely housetrain Dunkel
7. Find a job I love
8. Join a gym
9. Make more friends
10. Remodel my kitchen
11. Use my phone less
12. Launch a financially profitable blog
13. Take more pictures (not on my phone, but with my camera)
14. Journal 4-5 days a week
15. More dance parties
Monday, December 11, 2017
Friday, November 17, 2017
Scheduling a Meltdown
A few years ago I was a freshman in college. Life is kinda scary as you finish freshman year: you begin to realize how fast time (mostly college) goes, how little you have figured out in your life, and much you need to get done in the next 3ish years. I remember sitting in my first psychology class, discussing mental health and being very worked up about everything in my life. I planned to go home that night and I wanted ice cream from a local shop. I was going to have a meltdown and then go have ice cream. I told my friend Hannah in the class, "I'm going to go home tonight and have a meltdown and then I'm going to Whippy Dip to make myself feel better." The mental health nut in me now realizes that sounds like a disordered eating issue that I can eat my feelings. I still do that sometimes. Ice cream to celebrate, ice cream after a funeral, whatever.
For the record, I went home that night back in college, had my meltdown, got my ice cream, and went on with my life. It was a therapeutic event. It solved my problems that day. I had a scheduled a meltdown in my life and carried through on it. The ice cream was my coping mechanism. I had found a way to feel better. Sure, it was not a calorically good choice, but it was a temporary band aid. In the grand scheme of life, the meltdown wasn't over anything big. To tell you insignificant it was, I don't even remember why I was scheduling a meltdown in my life anyway. True meltdowns happen. And we can't control them. Sometimes I can tell a meltdown is coming and I induce it just to get it over with. I watch Cristina Yang's last scene from "Greys Anatomy" and I cry every time. I cry it out/dance it out and I feel better. I had found another coping mechanism. My coping mechanisms don't work anymore. I need new ones because these don't provide for me what they used to.
And that brings us to my current life. I'm working through a rough patch. My employment is not what I want it to be and honestly, most days feel like a failure. I am constantly tired and feeling dejected. Not enough to warrant a trip to a psychologist or therapist but I have a very real awareness of my lack of happiness. I have cried more in the last year than in my entire life and much more often than I would care to publicly admit. The worst part is you can't schedule a meltdown. Ever. They have a tendency to just happen and usually at an inopportune time. I used to have a series of disappointing meetings on Mondays that resulted in a cry fest on my couch every Monday night. It happened to work out that my fiancé was out of town every week I had one too. I would sit at home with no one to talk to and it left me too much time to think and wallow. It was weekly self destruction as my dog and I sat there trying to forget the world as we watched "The Bachelorette." My job was stressful: I wasn't eating and I wasn't sleeping. I lived this way for more than month. At some point I accepted that this job was not going to work for me. I was running ragged making phone calls and sending emails and attending events. The catch was I wasn't happy and I didn't know how to fix it. And had no income because I work on commission so I was also constantly worried about my finances. I was mad and sad and angry and disappointed and ungrateful and upset. All at once and all the time.
I was (and some days still am) on the verge of what felt like an emotional breakdown nearly every hour. The worst part was most people didn't know. I walked around like a glass doll, fearful of someone knocking me off my poised position on the shelf. I was cautious and withdrawn and uncertain. I thought if I just kept quiet about my struggles I could protect myself from the impending hurt. If I stayed put on my shelf, my glass face couldn't be broken. It would stay painted and intact. I felt perched on a branch, watching my own life unfold before me and fold in itself everyday. It was and still is heartbreaking. Having a daily meltdown didn't solve my problem; neither did ice cream or dancing.
I am at the point of emotional exhaustion. I'm trapped in my own life with little certainty of what to do next. My former stress relievers of choice might work if I had a different mindset. I will revisit them at a later date when my mental emotional health is in a better place. My mental health is in shambles. The moral of the story is you can't schedule everything in life. I just made a to do list for the next few days leading up to Thanksgiving to make sure I get everything done. I got to the point I knew a meltdown would happen every day but it was too depressing to acknowledge it and put it on my daily to do list. The small optimist in me hoped it wouldn't happen every day so by not putting it down, I wasn't going to let it take over my hour or evening or week. But you can't schedule a meltdown. They just happen.
For the record, I went home that night back in college, had my meltdown, got my ice cream, and went on with my life. It was a therapeutic event. It solved my problems that day. I had a scheduled a meltdown in my life and carried through on it. The ice cream was my coping mechanism. I had found a way to feel better. Sure, it was not a calorically good choice, but it was a temporary band aid. In the grand scheme of life, the meltdown wasn't over anything big. To tell you insignificant it was, I don't even remember why I was scheduling a meltdown in my life anyway. True meltdowns happen. And we can't control them. Sometimes I can tell a meltdown is coming and I induce it just to get it over with. I watch Cristina Yang's last scene from "Greys Anatomy" and I cry every time. I cry it out/dance it out and I feel better. I had found another coping mechanism. My coping mechanisms don't work anymore. I need new ones because these don't provide for me what they used to.
And that brings us to my current life. I'm working through a rough patch. My employment is not what I want it to be and honestly, most days feel like a failure. I am constantly tired and feeling dejected. Not enough to warrant a trip to a psychologist or therapist but I have a very real awareness of my lack of happiness. I have cried more in the last year than in my entire life and much more often than I would care to publicly admit. The worst part is you can't schedule a meltdown. Ever. They have a tendency to just happen and usually at an inopportune time. I used to have a series of disappointing meetings on Mondays that resulted in a cry fest on my couch every Monday night. It happened to work out that my fiancé was out of town every week I had one too. I would sit at home with no one to talk to and it left me too much time to think and wallow. It was weekly self destruction as my dog and I sat there trying to forget the world as we watched "The Bachelorette." My job was stressful: I wasn't eating and I wasn't sleeping. I lived this way for more than month. At some point I accepted that this job was not going to work for me. I was running ragged making phone calls and sending emails and attending events. The catch was I wasn't happy and I didn't know how to fix it. And had no income because I work on commission so I was also constantly worried about my finances. I was mad and sad and angry and disappointed and ungrateful and upset. All at once and all the time.
I was (and some days still am) on the verge of what felt like an emotional breakdown nearly every hour. The worst part was most people didn't know. I walked around like a glass doll, fearful of someone knocking me off my poised position on the shelf. I was cautious and withdrawn and uncertain. I thought if I just kept quiet about my struggles I could protect myself from the impending hurt. If I stayed put on my shelf, my glass face couldn't be broken. It would stay painted and intact. I felt perched on a branch, watching my own life unfold before me and fold in itself everyday. It was and still is heartbreaking. Having a daily meltdown didn't solve my problem; neither did ice cream or dancing.
I am at the point of emotional exhaustion. I'm trapped in my own life with little certainty of what to do next. My former stress relievers of choice might work if I had a different mindset. I will revisit them at a later date when my mental emotional health is in a better place. My mental health is in shambles. The moral of the story is you can't schedule everything in life. I just made a to do list for the next few days leading up to Thanksgiving to make sure I get everything done. I got to the point I knew a meltdown would happen every day but it was too depressing to acknowledge it and put it on my daily to do list. The small optimist in me hoped it wouldn't happen every day so by not putting it down, I wasn't going to let it take over my hour or evening or week. But you can't schedule a meltdown. They just happen.
Thursday, November 2, 2017
Last Lasts
My brother plays his last home football game this weekend. His final game ever is next Saturday. I had hoped to make it to one of them but the way schedules work out I just couldn't swing it. So naturally I thought I would blog about it. Not about missing the game, but about the last time you do things for the last time.
Many college athletes have already experienced their last competition in high school; some knew they were going to continue playing the sport in college and the "last game" wasn't really the last game. Seventeen and eighteen year olds move on from their final games much easier because the prospects of leaving home for college or work create more excitement; they bounce back by being young and dumb. There's something special about college athletes, particularly at the division III level. Their college athletics career is driven by something other than money. They do not get a free college education for their skills and abilities. Division III athletes play sports in college for a love of the game and competition. Nothing else compares to the love of an athlete and his or her sport.
I was in the same position as my brother a few years ago. I was completing my last year of college, on the verge of full fledged adulthood, but also nervous for the real world. I was doing many college things for the fourth and final time and I had mixed feelings: excitement, sorrow, happiness, disappointment. I spent ten years running track. I think of all the workouts that tried to kill me and the long runs where I discovered my best friends. Looking back on my college experience, all my best friends and favorite memories come back to people on the track team, not necessarily the meets or individual races. And we will always be part of that team even though we graduated. The coolest part about being a runner is you are branded a runner for life. Heck, after college you can even go out and win money for races. It's great. As long as you have working legs and a desire to run you're a runner. Even after your legs stop working, you will always be a runner because the label never leaves.
But here's the kicker about football (<-- best pun I've written in a while, thank you): your final game is the very last time you will suit up and play. Very few people make it to the NFL but the vast majority of college football players are done playing at 21, 22, or 23. I can't imagine trying to get 22 friends together, plus the equipment and space to play a full game at age 30. The injuries would be tremendous! Everyone that played in the game wouldn't be able to walk for a week after the game because of pulled muscles and trying to prove they "still got it," what "it" is: speed, strength, stamina, endurance. You end up jumping at the chance to play a flag football game, even though it is a poor substitute for the real thing--you are so desperate to get back into the game. But it's ok. It's human nature to gravitate towards the things we love. Go play in the first flag football game you can and every one after that.
There are a few perks to being done with a sport. You have your life back during the season you used to compete. I was at a loss of what to do with all my free time the first spring I wasn't running. I was accustomed to hours of practice followed by hours of studying in the library after. With no after work commitments I thoroughly enjoyed the spring weather. And my legs didn't hurt; I had not idea what it was like to wake up everyday in March and April and not have to give my shins a pep talk because of perpetual shin splints. You too will wake up mostly pain free when your sport ceases. During football season you will have the opportunity to watch every college and professional game available. Do it. Watch them all. Because you can and because you earned it. You sacrificed 4 or 5 years of summer into fall Saturdays not watching your favorite teams. You only saw the highlights and heard the synopsis from your classmates after the fact. Lay on your couch for 24 hours and enjoy the freedom. It will make you miss the game more. You might be a little lost and heartbroken but you will heal. We all do.
~~~~~
Good luck. With everything. With every last last. You will relish in some final lasts: your last class, your last caf meal, your last paper, your last reading. And others will cause some anguish: your last concert, your last workout, your last group meeting, your last practice, your last game. The last time you hang out with your friends as students and not as alums. Trust me, that one is scary. But you'll be ok. Life is glorious and you're just getting started. Thirty or forty years from now you might not remember every game or even the big plays of major upsets. You will remember the people who were there and celebrated with you, win or lose. These were likely the first friends you made in college. The ones that taught you how to do laundry and how to hack a microwave meal. They remember your college experience almost as well as you do and maybe for some nights, better than you do. They were an integral part of your college experience. Cherish it all. Every final hoorah is worth celebrating. So do it. Enjoy all your last lasts.
Monday, October 30, 2017
Kevin's Big Adventure
Today was big day for Kevin. I knew a week ago that he would be getting a book to take home today. He found out in the classroom at 12:45pm and by 12:50pm he was the proud new owner of a book. If you have been following my blog you know a little bit about Kevin. He's a 7 year old boy in the second grade. This is the first book he himself has ever owned; the first book his house owns. I hope he reads it to the point he memorizes it. This was huge. He was so proud of his new book he asked me, "Can you take my picture with my book, Miss Bre?" Of course, Kevin. Of course. He was still concerned the book would go to his classroom or be put on the cart of books available to us through the program. Nope. This book is all for you kid. He said it was his favorite book ever. I asked if he had read it before and he said no but he already knew he would love it. That's the power of reading, learning, and education. Don't ever doubt your impact on others.
A brief update on his reading skills. It astounds me how much progress we have made in a month of reading together, once a week, for 30 minutes a day. We start each day with me reading to him while he eats his lunch (have you ever watched a 7 year old multi-task? It doesn't work. At all.) and eventually move to us each reading every other page. Some days, when Kevin feels bossy or is really interested in the book, he reads it all to me. Sure there are words he struggles with but for the most part he can sound them out. I provide a little help here and there. Today we talked about the different sounds the letter G makes (the word suggest was confusing for him). Sometimes it is 'ja' like giraffe or 'ga' like game. We came across the word "through" and he asked why there was a G in that word because he couldn't hear it when he said it. Touché, Kevin, because I don't know.
We read a few Halloween and fall themed books today and he breezed through them. He was explaining Beggar's Night to me (it's a Des Moines thing). I told him I didn't know what it was because I wasn't from Des Moines. He then proceeded to ask me about where I grew up so naturally I drew map of Iowa to show him. Then I drew the surrounding states. He asked about Florida and Arizona; at that point I pulled up a map on my phone because my art skills are quite lacking so showing him was much easier. I also couldn't draw the whole United States from memory. We talked about different states and where they are in relation to each other. Then he asked about Africa and China and Antarctica and I found a world map that showed everything. He claimed he is going to visit everywhere on Earth. I said go for it and good luck. He seemed pretty determined to see the whole world.
He gets 3 more books this year but he doesn't know that yet. I want them to be a surprise; I hope he is as excited for the next 3 as he was for the first one. In the movie "The Blindside" Sandra Bullock meets with a few of her friends and they are talking about the young man she has taken into her home. The quote goes, "'You're changing that boy's life.' 'No, he's changing mine.'" That's Kevin. I've taken reading and books for granted my whole and Kevin puts just enough perspective into my life to keep me humble. He's changing my life and I didn't even know it needed changing.
Kevin posing with his first book.
Saturday, October 21, 2017
Priding Moments
I was recently asked what accomplishment in my life I was most proud of. I thought for a moment and provided a legitimate answer. And then I got to thinking, what other things am I proud of in my life? I'm only 24 but I have done enough in my life at this point but I wanted a definitive list. So here they are, in some semblance of an order but this could be subject to change. (Update: this list changed 8 times while I was writing and elaborating on each statement.)
1. Passing the securities exams I took this summer to become a financial advisor. These tests are a kick in the pants. Don't let anyone tell you differently. I spent countless hours this summer studying for these tests and was thoroughly convinced I was going to fail them. I was so convinced in fact that I was job searching the night before each test because I was sure I would not be able to continue down this path. Alas I passed and here I am.
2. Running a lifetime PR in my last 4x400 experience. I ran track for 10 years. Nothing is greater in track than a lifetime PR. I went out and ran that race with no goals or intentions. It was the last meet with all my teammates before the conference meet. It was the Wartburg Dual and I had nothing to lose. I chased some girl down and crushed it. Never mind the fact my last race the following week was not as good but the PR race meant more to me because of the people I ran with. It was four years of friendship that race all jammed into a 4 minute race.
3. Raising a puppy. Anyone that says having a dog isn't like having a real child is lying. A year and a half ago we got a puppy (<3 Little P). It is amazing how helpless she started and how much she can do now. Every skill she has we taught her. At the same time every skill she does not have is our fault. She is far from perfect (sorry to all the people she takes a running leap at and hits you right in the midsection...It's only people she vaguely recognizes). She's a work in progress but I never thought we could get her to the point of free reign of the house while we're at work based on how the first week went. I have no idea how we potty trained her. She used to take a 3 hour nap after walking from her potty spot to the garbage center at the apartment and now we can walk an hour and she's hardly tired.
4. Picking out a wine cork with a tweezers in France because I didn't have a wine opener. I went abroad for a month during my sophomore year of college. We went to a grocery store in France and I bought a bottle of wine. Being the inexperienced wine drinker I was (because I was only 20 in the US which doesn't allow me to buy alcohol) I did not think to look for a screw top cap. I bought a bottle with a wine cork. I was determined to open the damn bottle myself. I sat on the floor on my hotel room in France with my tweezers for a half an hour picked out the cork piece by piece. Naturally I had to drink the whole bottle in one night because the cork was destroyed. I think it is an excellent testament to my patience and creativity.
5. Successful photography career at Luther. My first photos at Luther weren't great. I can't even remember the first ones but I know they were not up to the standard I wanted to produce. By my senior year I was in a wonderful place with my photography: I knew my camera inside and out and could manipulate it in the dark. I knew it well enough to teach others how to use it. The image I am most proud of specifically is still used widely in college mailings and advertisements. I got up at 4:30am to photograph the Martin Luther statue on campus at sunrise (fun fact: trees block the sun from touching the statue until well after sunrise hours). In order for the morning to not be a complete bust I wandered around snapping pictures of other campus attractions. The bell at sunrise with not a soul around and dew glistening on the grass is my favorite photo of all time.
6. Starting a blog. This blog started as a small undertaking and a free hobby during a time when I didn't have a ton of funds. I had no idea how many people would read it, enjoy it, and appreciate it. Thanks, fan club!
7. Learning how to cook. I left college with very few cooking skills and have managed to develop some recipes I am proud of. I am even at the point I can offer minor cooking advice to others. This winter my brother is going to live with me for a two months and I am going to teach him all I know about cooking. Not that my knowledge is vast but I can offer great advice for beginners.
8. Planting and growing a garden. One time in the 10th grade I wrote my autobiography (the entire class did, this wasn't just a me thing). We had to list out goals (5 years, 10 years, 15 years, and general). I put grow a vegetable garden on my general goal list. Low and behold I planted a tomato and squash garden earlier this summer. I was up to my eyeballs in tomatoes and the squash was pretty tasty. I did not anticipate my level of success but I learned a lot about small scale agriculture and now have a group of garden ladies at church that provide free advice for growing a successful garden.
9. Running a half marathon. I ran my half marathon back in 2014. I trained pretty religiously for this. Around mile 8 of the race I was content to quit. I tried to find a pothole midcourse and try to roll an ankle to end the misery. There were ample choices on an old stretch of interstate in the Twin Cities but alas I kept running. I finished. I laid on the ground after and cried. A nice man handed me a medal and congratulated me. He then informed me I was in the way and needed to move. Except I couldn't so I kept laying there until my family came to get me.
10. Prime execution of my 90s mom Halloween costume senior year of college. My roommate Jesse and I were unsure of what to be for Halloween. Naturally we went to Goodwill in town and scoped out the secondhand clothes options. We stumbled upon turtlenecks and jumpers. Add in our tacky jewelry and big glasses and we looked just like our own moms shortly before we were born. We got many compliments. We underestimated how hot our costumes would be at the bar and how drenched in sweat our outfits would be (note: don't wear a turtleneck to the bar. Just don't.). The morning after our adventure out I picked up my turtleneck and it was skill soaked. I nearly threw up it was that bad. But nonetheless we had the perfect costumes.
There you have it. My top ten priding accomplishments. Maybe you skimmed over them, maybe you read them all, maybe you were there to witness them. Thank you. Sometimes I get bogged down with all the stress and negativity in my day to day in my life that I forget to be thankful for all the opportunities on my journey and all the people that helped me get there.
1. Passing the securities exams I took this summer to become a financial advisor. These tests are a kick in the pants. Don't let anyone tell you differently. I spent countless hours this summer studying for these tests and was thoroughly convinced I was going to fail them. I was so convinced in fact that I was job searching the night before each test because I was sure I would not be able to continue down this path. Alas I passed and here I am.
2. Running a lifetime PR in my last 4x400 experience. I ran track for 10 years. Nothing is greater in track than a lifetime PR. I went out and ran that race with no goals or intentions. It was the last meet with all my teammates before the conference meet. It was the Wartburg Dual and I had nothing to lose. I chased some girl down and crushed it. Never mind the fact my last race the following week was not as good but the PR race meant more to me because of the people I ran with. It was four years of friendship that race all jammed into a 4 minute race.
3. Raising a puppy. Anyone that says having a dog isn't like having a real child is lying. A year and a half ago we got a puppy (<3 Little P). It is amazing how helpless she started and how much she can do now. Every skill she has we taught her. At the same time every skill she does not have is our fault. She is far from perfect (sorry to all the people she takes a running leap at and hits you right in the midsection...It's only people she vaguely recognizes). She's a work in progress but I never thought we could get her to the point of free reign of the house while we're at work based on how the first week went. I have no idea how we potty trained her. She used to take a 3 hour nap after walking from her potty spot to the garbage center at the apartment and now we can walk an hour and she's hardly tired.
4. Picking out a wine cork with a tweezers in France because I didn't have a wine opener. I went abroad for a month during my sophomore year of college. We went to a grocery store in France and I bought a bottle of wine. Being the inexperienced wine drinker I was (because I was only 20 in the US which doesn't allow me to buy alcohol) I did not think to look for a screw top cap. I bought a bottle with a wine cork. I was determined to open the damn bottle myself. I sat on the floor on my hotel room in France with my tweezers for a half an hour picked out the cork piece by piece. Naturally I had to drink the whole bottle in one night because the cork was destroyed. I think it is an excellent testament to my patience and creativity.
5. Successful photography career at Luther. My first photos at Luther weren't great. I can't even remember the first ones but I know they were not up to the standard I wanted to produce. By my senior year I was in a wonderful place with my photography: I knew my camera inside and out and could manipulate it in the dark. I knew it well enough to teach others how to use it. The image I am most proud of specifically is still used widely in college mailings and advertisements. I got up at 4:30am to photograph the Martin Luther statue on campus at sunrise (fun fact: trees block the sun from touching the statue until well after sunrise hours). In order for the morning to not be a complete bust I wandered around snapping pictures of other campus attractions. The bell at sunrise with not a soul around and dew glistening on the grass is my favorite photo of all time.
6. Starting a blog. This blog started as a small undertaking and a free hobby during a time when I didn't have a ton of funds. I had no idea how many people would read it, enjoy it, and appreciate it. Thanks, fan club!
7. Learning how to cook. I left college with very few cooking skills and have managed to develop some recipes I am proud of. I am even at the point I can offer minor cooking advice to others. This winter my brother is going to live with me for a two months and I am going to teach him all I know about cooking. Not that my knowledge is vast but I can offer great advice for beginners.
8. Planting and growing a garden. One time in the 10th grade I wrote my autobiography (the entire class did, this wasn't just a me thing). We had to list out goals (5 years, 10 years, 15 years, and general). I put grow a vegetable garden on my general goal list. Low and behold I planted a tomato and squash garden earlier this summer. I was up to my eyeballs in tomatoes and the squash was pretty tasty. I did not anticipate my level of success but I learned a lot about small scale agriculture and now have a group of garden ladies at church that provide free advice for growing a successful garden.
9. Running a half marathon. I ran my half marathon back in 2014. I trained pretty religiously for this. Around mile 8 of the race I was content to quit. I tried to find a pothole midcourse and try to roll an ankle to end the misery. There were ample choices on an old stretch of interstate in the Twin Cities but alas I kept running. I finished. I laid on the ground after and cried. A nice man handed me a medal and congratulated me. He then informed me I was in the way and needed to move. Except I couldn't so I kept laying there until my family came to get me.
10. Prime execution of my 90s mom Halloween costume senior year of college. My roommate Jesse and I were unsure of what to be for Halloween. Naturally we went to Goodwill in town and scoped out the secondhand clothes options. We stumbled upon turtlenecks and jumpers. Add in our tacky jewelry and big glasses and we looked just like our own moms shortly before we were born. We got many compliments. We underestimated how hot our costumes would be at the bar and how drenched in sweat our outfits would be (note: don't wear a turtleneck to the bar. Just don't.). The morning after our adventure out I picked up my turtleneck and it was skill soaked. I nearly threw up it was that bad. But nonetheless we had the perfect costumes.
Thursday, October 12, 2017
Burn Baby Burn
The other day I asked my best friend for a blog topic because I short on ideas. She mentioned job burnout. This is a topic that has been studied quite extensively in the psychology field so I have heard my fair share about it. Certain occupations are more prone to burnout than others (teaching and nursing are just a few examples) but no occupation is completely exempt. I'm relatively new to my own job and haven't felt burnout quite yet.
But here's the catch: we could all use a day off. I am by no means overworked but my work brain is always on. I have dreams about emails and phone calls I need to make in the following days. Emails pop up on my computer in the bottom right hand corner of the computer screen. Weirdly enough, that's the exact location of where the email notifications show up in my dreams too. I have nightmare-esque dreams where insurance illustrations come to life and the numbers attack (think mutant contagious virus except with thousands of dollars). Unsurprisingly I am not sleeping well either.
I'm blessed with a flexible schedule and when a bout of the stomach bug hit yesterday morning I was able to stay home and not do much. It was great: I briefly checked my email at 10:30am when I finally left the couch and then didn't touch my computer the rest of the day. My day off was great. Sure I have weekends where I am not formally working but I usually have my eyes and ears open to look for potential clients: at the dog park, at church, shopping around town. I'm always on. Yesterday, there were no expectations. The morning was spent stuck on the couch feeling less than stellar. But the early afternoon was full of efficiency: I washed all my rugs, swept the floors and washed them, made a trip to the grocery store and bought supplies to make a tie blanket. I was mentally turned off. These were all things I wanted to get done this week but doing them at my leisure instead of in hurried frenzy before my parents come to town Saturday made me feel much more at ease. I had no desire to see if anyone emailed me. My phone was with me all day so I know that no one called me. The separation was refreshing and rejuvenating. The disconnect brought me a renewed set of energy.
Burnout is not some myth: I see it in people all the time. I worry about young people in particular. We carry more debt (student loans) than any generation before but aren't making that much more money for a starting income than previous generations. I know of recent grads working two or three jobs to afford the lifestyle they would like. Except they don't have the free time to spend the money they have earned. On the flip side there are other grads working their butts off putting in 60+ hours a week making minimum wage; or worse, they are salaried low and the expectation is for them to do it all and work all the hours possible. It's a vicious cycle of work and free time and money available. There often feels like no end is in sight.
You were designed to have breaks in your schedule. You need recharge time. I don't know how many people I know that don't use their vacation time to their advantage; they are also the first complain about feeling overwhelmed and overworked. Use the time you are granted and take that PTO. I am not advocating for people to call in every time they feel even the slightest bit not okay but take a mental health day here and there for your own sanity.
But here's the catch: we could all use a day off. I am by no means overworked but my work brain is always on. I have dreams about emails and phone calls I need to make in the following days. Emails pop up on my computer in the bottom right hand corner of the computer screen. Weirdly enough, that's the exact location of where the email notifications show up in my dreams too. I have nightmare-esque dreams where insurance illustrations come to life and the numbers attack (think mutant contagious virus except with thousands of dollars). Unsurprisingly I am not sleeping well either.
I'm blessed with a flexible schedule and when a bout of the stomach bug hit yesterday morning I was able to stay home and not do much. It was great: I briefly checked my email at 10:30am when I finally left the couch and then didn't touch my computer the rest of the day. My day off was great. Sure I have weekends where I am not formally working but I usually have my eyes and ears open to look for potential clients: at the dog park, at church, shopping around town. I'm always on. Yesterday, there were no expectations. The morning was spent stuck on the couch feeling less than stellar. But the early afternoon was full of efficiency: I washed all my rugs, swept the floors and washed them, made a trip to the grocery store and bought supplies to make a tie blanket. I was mentally turned off. These were all things I wanted to get done this week but doing them at my leisure instead of in hurried frenzy before my parents come to town Saturday made me feel much more at ease. I had no desire to see if anyone emailed me. My phone was with me all day so I know that no one called me. The separation was refreshing and rejuvenating. The disconnect brought me a renewed set of energy.
Burnout is not some myth: I see it in people all the time. I worry about young people in particular. We carry more debt (student loans) than any generation before but aren't making that much more money for a starting income than previous generations. I know of recent grads working two or three jobs to afford the lifestyle they would like. Except they don't have the free time to spend the money they have earned. On the flip side there are other grads working their butts off putting in 60+ hours a week making minimum wage; or worse, they are salaried low and the expectation is for them to do it all and work all the hours possible. It's a vicious cycle of work and free time and money available. There often feels like no end is in sight.
You were designed to have breaks in your schedule. You need recharge time. I don't know how many people I know that don't use their vacation time to their advantage; they are also the first complain about feeling overwhelmed and overworked. Use the time you are granted and take that PTO. I am not advocating for people to call in every time they feel even the slightest bit not okay but take a mental health day here and there for your own sanity.
Tuesday, October 10, 2017
Reading Reality
I think back on my own life and I had ample books growing up. From birth on there were always books at my disposal in my own home. Book orders where my favorite thing to take home each month. I have always loved reading (hence volunteering as a reading mentor and joining a mystery book club at a neighborhood bookstore). At any given time there are a few books on my nightstand just dying to be read. Perhaps I would have loved reading less if my parents didn't feed into my love. It helped that my parents were teachers who could see the value of reading and could financially afford to support my desires to read and learn.
One time in first grade there was a reading challenge (my family took it to mean contest; we're competitive). We were supposed to read 21 books in the month of February. It was called Running Start and there was a little track to keep a record of how many books I read, with 21 books on a page. For each book read you got a little shoe sticker to move one step forward on the track. Well, I read 301 books in the month of February and got third place in my class. Running Start continued for a few more years but the rules were rewritten after my class. One kid read over 600 books. I don't even begin to know what else he did with his life for that month. Did he sleep? Did he go outside? Did he call in sick to school a few times and stay home and read all day? I will never know. There was a snow day that month. After we read all the books in our house my dad and I went to the library twice in one day to get another slew of books to read. I don't remember how many books we read that day but it was a lot.
During the current school year I read with a little boy (let's call him Kevin) at a local elementary school every Monday during lunch through Everybody Wins! Iowa, a program from United Way of Central Iowa. Each Monday, Kevin and I get together along with about 20 other adults reading to second graders from the school. We only have 30 minutes together during the lunch time. I read to Kevin while he eats lunch. When he is done eating we take turns reading, alternating pages per his request. He is a little sweetheart, asking me on the first day if he can call me "Miss Bre" and not just "Bre." Of course, you're too polite.
Let me tell you more about Kevin. He's a second grade boy. He is not a strong reader but loves being read to. He enjoys sports and Star Wars books. We have a bingo card of book types to fill up. When we have filled the whole card Kevin gets a free book. He thought the book would go to his second grade classroom. I informed him he would get to keep the book himself and take it home. He was so excited. The only books he had at home were "God books." ("You mean bibles?" I asked. "Oh yea, those.") This would be the first book he has had all to himself. He's 7. This is the first book he will own. He is well below grade level in reading. I know I was an overachieving kid in the reading department but as a second grader he is struggling through books I mastered in kindergarten. He wants to be a dentist. If he doesn't learn to read there's strong chance he will not excel in other academic areas because the reading will be too difficult. My hope is that we can really develop his reading skills this year. That starts with having access to books for him.
Behind all of us that read so many books growing up were parents encouraging our every move. The thing is, I don't know if Kevin even has a library card or parents who would get him one. I know he has a dog and while dogs are cute and fun they don't come with library cards or books that will help him learn. There are scary statistics about kids not being at grade level reading by the start at third grade are less likely to succeed in school: never be at grade level reading and they are more likely to drop out. Beyond third grade reading is not just learning to read it is about reading to learn. This program is vital. It is vital for all kids but Kevin is a prime example. I grew up very privileged compared to him with books always within an arm's reach.
So the next book you read (or magazine or newspaper or study material), think about what got you to that point. Your parents, your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, your teachers. Someone had to help you. You didn't magically wake up one day with the ability to read. You had to learn. Thank the person that helped you and pass along the gift of reading to someone else.
One time in first grade there was a reading challenge (my family took it to mean contest; we're competitive). We were supposed to read 21 books in the month of February. It was called Running Start and there was a little track to keep a record of how many books I read, with 21 books on a page. For each book read you got a little shoe sticker to move one step forward on the track. Well, I read 301 books in the month of February and got third place in my class. Running Start continued for a few more years but the rules were rewritten after my class. One kid read over 600 books. I don't even begin to know what else he did with his life for that month. Did he sleep? Did he go outside? Did he call in sick to school a few times and stay home and read all day? I will never know. There was a snow day that month. After we read all the books in our house my dad and I went to the library twice in one day to get another slew of books to read. I don't remember how many books we read that day but it was a lot.
During the current school year I read with a little boy (let's call him Kevin) at a local elementary school every Monday during lunch through Everybody Wins! Iowa, a program from United Way of Central Iowa. Each Monday, Kevin and I get together along with about 20 other adults reading to second graders from the school. We only have 30 minutes together during the lunch time. I read to Kevin while he eats lunch. When he is done eating we take turns reading, alternating pages per his request. He is a little sweetheart, asking me on the first day if he can call me "Miss Bre" and not just "Bre." Of course, you're too polite.
Let me tell you more about Kevin. He's a second grade boy. He is not a strong reader but loves being read to. He enjoys sports and Star Wars books. We have a bingo card of book types to fill up. When we have filled the whole card Kevin gets a free book. He thought the book would go to his second grade classroom. I informed him he would get to keep the book himself and take it home. He was so excited. The only books he had at home were "God books." ("You mean bibles?" I asked. "Oh yea, those.") This would be the first book he has had all to himself. He's 7. This is the first book he will own. He is well below grade level in reading. I know I was an overachieving kid in the reading department but as a second grader he is struggling through books I mastered in kindergarten. He wants to be a dentist. If he doesn't learn to read there's strong chance he will not excel in other academic areas because the reading will be too difficult. My hope is that we can really develop his reading skills this year. That starts with having access to books for him.
Behind all of us that read so many books growing up were parents encouraging our every move. The thing is, I don't know if Kevin even has a library card or parents who would get him one. I know he has a dog and while dogs are cute and fun they don't come with library cards or books that will help him learn. There are scary statistics about kids not being at grade level reading by the start at third grade are less likely to succeed in school: never be at grade level reading and they are more likely to drop out. Beyond third grade reading is not just learning to read it is about reading to learn. This program is vital. It is vital for all kids but Kevin is a prime example. I grew up very privileged compared to him with books always within an arm's reach.
So the next book you read (or magazine or newspaper or study material), think about what got you to that point. Your parents, your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, your teachers. Someone had to help you. You didn't magically wake up one day with the ability to read. You had to learn. Thank the person that helped you and pass along the gift of reading to someone else.
Monday, October 2, 2017
Beauty of Being American
Mornings like these it is difficult to remember how much America has to offer. We are far from perfect but no country has it all figured out; everyone has something to improve.
When a mass shooting occurs people immediately start to point fingers. "Take away all guns." "Assault rifles for everyone to protect themselves." "Maybe something in the middle that lets people have guns but not such high power weapons." There are always opinions floating around. Luckily for me, my dad is a government teacher. I don't know about everyone else's government teachers but mine wasn't overly political in class. Since he's my dad I know his political affiliation but he keeps it pretty quite while teaching.
If anything, government class taught be how to listen intently without judgement. Frankly I do not care where anyone stands on major issues. I might not agree with your stance on guns, gay rights, or abortion but I'm willing to hear you out. If you do not strong backing to your argument ("it's just what I think") I have a harder time understanding where you come from and why you think it. My own best friend of 10 years has very little in common with me politically but here we are getting along just great. It would be easy to fall into the trap of trying to convince each other that the other is wrong but that is wasted breath. Instead we focus on our shared loves of rom coms, country music, and the Bachelor. There is not much point in telling people their ideas and affiliations are "not correct." In politics, there is no right or correct answer. We are not living in a test universe. There is plenty of room for shades of gray. There are multiple right answers in most situations.
Do you hold the door for someone behind you with their hands full of groceries and 3 kids in tow? I like you. Do you politely request another set of silverware at a restaurant when the waiter forgets a set? I like you. Do you smile at your neighbors when they are headed to the store? I like you. There are too many good qualities in people to let a bit of politics ruin a good relationship.
At the end of the day there will be too many families across the U.S. who no longer have a loved one. I cannot fix it. I can hope the world heals a little here and there. I can hope we find a solution to gun rights and mental health that puts the fewest people in harm's way. I can hope for common ground and a way for America to move forward peacefully. There might be a some self-destruction through the process but we will make it. The beauty of being American is that we have the freedom to choose. I carry a copy of the Constitution with me wherever I go. (I promise I'm not that geeky; I got a free copy at government camp once and it's never left my purse collection.) It serves as a constant reminder that I live somewhere where I have choices and my friends and family have choices and that we can all live together happily even when we do not make the same choices.
Be kind. Give everyone a break.
When a mass shooting occurs people immediately start to point fingers. "Take away all guns." "Assault rifles for everyone to protect themselves." "Maybe something in the middle that lets people have guns but not such high power weapons." There are always opinions floating around. Luckily for me, my dad is a government teacher. I don't know about everyone else's government teachers but mine wasn't overly political in class. Since he's my dad I know his political affiliation but he keeps it pretty quite while teaching.
If anything, government class taught be how to listen intently without judgement. Frankly I do not care where anyone stands on major issues. I might not agree with your stance on guns, gay rights, or abortion but I'm willing to hear you out. If you do not strong backing to your argument ("it's just what I think") I have a harder time understanding where you come from and why you think it. My own best friend of 10 years has very little in common with me politically but here we are getting along just great. It would be easy to fall into the trap of trying to convince each other that the other is wrong but that is wasted breath. Instead we focus on our shared loves of rom coms, country music, and the Bachelor. There is not much point in telling people their ideas and affiliations are "not correct." In politics, there is no right or correct answer. We are not living in a test universe. There is plenty of room for shades of gray. There are multiple right answers in most situations.
Do you hold the door for someone behind you with their hands full of groceries and 3 kids in tow? I like you. Do you politely request another set of silverware at a restaurant when the waiter forgets a set? I like you. Do you smile at your neighbors when they are headed to the store? I like you. There are too many good qualities in people to let a bit of politics ruin a good relationship.
At the end of the day there will be too many families across the U.S. who no longer have a loved one. I cannot fix it. I can hope the world heals a little here and there. I can hope we find a solution to gun rights and mental health that puts the fewest people in harm's way. I can hope for common ground and a way for America to move forward peacefully. There might be a some self-destruction through the process but we will make it. The beauty of being American is that we have the freedom to choose. I carry a copy of the Constitution with me wherever I go. (I promise I'm not that geeky; I got a free copy at government camp once and it's never left my purse collection.) It serves as a constant reminder that I live somewhere where I have choices and my friends and family have choices and that we can all live together happily even when we do not make the same choices.
Be kind. Give everyone a break.
Wednesday, September 27, 2017
The Science/Math/Psychology of Homecoming
For the last 20 years or so my parents have been the senior class sponsors in Decorah. In our early years in town this was a big week for us because homecoming was in full swing. We would spend several weeknights at the fairgrounds decorating the senior float for the parade. The smell of spray paint still reminds me of this time.
My mom was also in charge of the homecoming vote counting for king and queen candidates. The current system is all electronic but it used to be paper ballots that my mom would hand count. I watched. Every year. It was never a secret to me who won. I could keep a secret with the best of them and not a tell a soul for almost two weeks. I think it is a great skill when you work in a business of confidentiality, but that is besides the point. After many years of counting votes and my own knowledge of who people were, my mom and I used to guess who was going to win the king and queen. We had a very methodical system for our guesses. Looking back, this is probably where my love of the human mind and psychology began. So far I haven't figured out a way to predict who will be on the ballot in the first place (aka be the top 5 or 6 from the entire class). Once they are on the ballot, we have a few theories as to how the winners come to be chosen.
1. The kiss of death: It sounds sad and definitely can be. Typically this person does not win the king or queen spot. They have won their class vote but do not win the whole school vote. Maybe they are well known in their class but do not have a lot of contact with underclassmen. There are a few exceptions. No one but the vote counter knows who wins the class. But when you're on the inside, you know who isn't going to win the final round of voting. Generally winning your class leads to not being the king or queen.
2. The tiebreaker/last in: This is my favorite one. My mom always wants even numbers of boys and girls on the court (either 5 or 6 depending on ties and such). Sometimes there is a tie on the girls' side and another boy is brought on the court, or the opposite. Often times (there isn't a tie for the top 5 every year so this one isn't always occurring) this person brought on in the final minute to even the sides becomes the winner. They almost weren't an option on the ballot and now they are the homecoming king or queen. Or, someone who just barely had enough votes to be the fifth one on the ballot becomes the winner. It's like coming from behind in a big game you didn't even know about.
3. Fall involvement: This sounds obvious but the activities you are involved with dictate who votes for you. Band, cross country, football, FFA. What do they all have in common? Activities with a lot of kids. Activities that have a large number of students provide a justification for when people decide to vote for their king and queen. This gets extra interesting when there are several members from the same activity on the court. This aspect is very similar to how political campaigns filter out, as groups are split. (Can you tell my dad was a government teacher?) For example this year's king candidates all play football. The cross country kids have to vote for someone as a king so they will pick a secondary set of activities to determine where they cast their vote. It comes down to a game of numbers and how teams and groups will divide their votes.
4. Younger family members in the high school: The surest way to win is having several younger siblings and cousins that are well liked within the high school. You could be a great person as a senior king or queen candidate but your bratty younger sister could bring you down. If your younger siblings also happen to get on the ballot and people see the repeated name, the older sibling is more likely to win. Whether the older king or queen candidate is even known by the younger grades doesn't matter. As long as there are multiple people with the same last name on the ballot at the same time, the older student is more likely to win.
So there you have it. You know how to be the next homecoming king or queen. Most of you have missed your opportunity to capitalize on your siblings and your own involvement :) Happy Homecoming Week!
My mom was also in charge of the homecoming vote counting for king and queen candidates. The current system is all electronic but it used to be paper ballots that my mom would hand count. I watched. Every year. It was never a secret to me who won. I could keep a secret with the best of them and not a tell a soul for almost two weeks. I think it is a great skill when you work in a business of confidentiality, but that is besides the point. After many years of counting votes and my own knowledge of who people were, my mom and I used to guess who was going to win the king and queen. We had a very methodical system for our guesses. Looking back, this is probably where my love of the human mind and psychology began. So far I haven't figured out a way to predict who will be on the ballot in the first place (aka be the top 5 or 6 from the entire class). Once they are on the ballot, we have a few theories as to how the winners come to be chosen.
1. The kiss of death: It sounds sad and definitely can be. Typically this person does not win the king or queen spot. They have won their class vote but do not win the whole school vote. Maybe they are well known in their class but do not have a lot of contact with underclassmen. There are a few exceptions. No one but the vote counter knows who wins the class. But when you're on the inside, you know who isn't going to win the final round of voting. Generally winning your class leads to not being the king or queen.
2. The tiebreaker/last in: This is my favorite one. My mom always wants even numbers of boys and girls on the court (either 5 or 6 depending on ties and such). Sometimes there is a tie on the girls' side and another boy is brought on the court, or the opposite. Often times (there isn't a tie for the top 5 every year so this one isn't always occurring) this person brought on in the final minute to even the sides becomes the winner. They almost weren't an option on the ballot and now they are the homecoming king or queen. Or, someone who just barely had enough votes to be the fifth one on the ballot becomes the winner. It's like coming from behind in a big game you didn't even know about.
3. Fall involvement: This sounds obvious but the activities you are involved with dictate who votes for you. Band, cross country, football, FFA. What do they all have in common? Activities with a lot of kids. Activities that have a large number of students provide a justification for when people decide to vote for their king and queen. This gets extra interesting when there are several members from the same activity on the court. This aspect is very similar to how political campaigns filter out, as groups are split. (Can you tell my dad was a government teacher?) For example this year's king candidates all play football. The cross country kids have to vote for someone as a king so they will pick a secondary set of activities to determine where they cast their vote. It comes down to a game of numbers and how teams and groups will divide their votes.
4. Younger family members in the high school: The surest way to win is having several younger siblings and cousins that are well liked within the high school. You could be a great person as a senior king or queen candidate but your bratty younger sister could bring you down. If your younger siblings also happen to get on the ballot and people see the repeated name, the older sibling is more likely to win. Whether the older king or queen candidate is even known by the younger grades doesn't matter. As long as there are multiple people with the same last name on the ballot at the same time, the older student is more likely to win.
So there you have it. You know how to be the next homecoming king or queen. Most of you have missed your opportunity to capitalize on your siblings and your own involvement :) Happy Homecoming Week!
Monday, September 18, 2017
Year of Yes
For Christmas my best friend gave me a journal by Shonda Rhimes (creator of Grey's Anatomy, Scandal, How to Get Away with Murder) called, "Year of Yes Journal." It was a very thoughtful gift and having a best friend who was an English major in college we have a tendency to buy gifts for each other that follow a reading and writing theme. Well, I started writing in it January 1. New year, new start, new year of yes. It was focused and easy to do. I had planned to write most days and finish the journal in just over a year if I could. I'm plan driven so this seemed perfect. I looked forward to reading it when the 365 days were completed and I could reflect on everything that happened and didn't happen in a year.
The premise of the journal is to chronicle all the things you say "yes" to over a year; the author found herself saying no to too many opportunities. The sections of the journal are themed by month, ranging from beauty to play to people to help and everything in between. There is also a section each day where you can write the ugly parts of the things you said yes to, called "dark and twisty," reminiscent of Cristina Yang from Grey's. She was my favorite character so this felt like an extra appropriate section for myself. Because the reality is there's a lot of crap in a day that can bog down all the good things that happen to us.
I started strong in the beauty section, writing every day for 6 straight days. January 1-6. Then I stopped. I don't remember the definite reason I stopped. I know there were a lot of things out of my control at the time and journaling just didn't fit in my schedule: my job was unstable, my sewer line was backing up on a regular basis, my fiancé was gone a lot for work, the list goes on and on. I wasn't saying yes to anything (except maybe Netflix) because I was worried about everything. I felt obligated to stay home and monitor my sewer and sump pump. I spent hours at night frantically searching and applying for jobs to find something before I could become just a number in a downsize effort. I was stressed and isolated, partly my own doing and partly my circumstances. It was a pretty big time of helplessness. I didn't feel like I was allowed to say yes to anything. There were no silver linings (and I can find the silver lining in about anything if I think about it long enough) and I hated everything.
But I'm back. I've said yes to a few great things this year already but they aren't in the book. Like my engagement, my wedding dress, being a bridesmaid in one of my own bridesmaid's wedding, a new job. They aren't chronicled but simply a stapled page in the beginning to remind me the entire year didn't suck. Sometimes it is difficult to think of those fun times when I remember how unhappy I was at the start of the year.
I'm writing in my Yes journal every morning at work (so 5 days a week). I check my email which is usually a bit depressing and then I think of something happy. I don't have to be to work immediately after I wake up in the morning so I usually spend time watching the news, coffee in hand, and a dog on my lap. These are all things I enjoy doing and I have the privilege of doing them daily. I put on a powerful lipstick color free from Clinique (even though my fiancé says it makes me look a bit pale and vampire ish). Side note: bought a new lip gloss at Target on Thursday and it makes me feel like I can take on the world. There is always something that has happened by 9am that makes me feel good about myself and saying yes to that decision is just the beginning.
Here's the challenge for you: go find that thing that makes you say yes everyday. Some days it is a promising opportunity to meet with a client. Other times it is a great lip color. Whatever you need to say yes to each day to make yourself successful, do it. Do it everyday. And do it with your whole being.
The premise of the journal is to chronicle all the things you say "yes" to over a year; the author found herself saying no to too many opportunities. The sections of the journal are themed by month, ranging from beauty to play to people to help and everything in between. There is also a section each day where you can write the ugly parts of the things you said yes to, called "dark and twisty," reminiscent of Cristina Yang from Grey's. She was my favorite character so this felt like an extra appropriate section for myself. Because the reality is there's a lot of crap in a day that can bog down all the good things that happen to us.
I started strong in the beauty section, writing every day for 6 straight days. January 1-6. Then I stopped. I don't remember the definite reason I stopped. I know there were a lot of things out of my control at the time and journaling just didn't fit in my schedule: my job was unstable, my sewer line was backing up on a regular basis, my fiancé was gone a lot for work, the list goes on and on. I wasn't saying yes to anything (except maybe Netflix) because I was worried about everything. I felt obligated to stay home and monitor my sewer and sump pump. I spent hours at night frantically searching and applying for jobs to find something before I could become just a number in a downsize effort. I was stressed and isolated, partly my own doing and partly my circumstances. It was a pretty big time of helplessness. I didn't feel like I was allowed to say yes to anything. There were no silver linings (and I can find the silver lining in about anything if I think about it long enough) and I hated everything.
But I'm back. I've said yes to a few great things this year already but they aren't in the book. Like my engagement, my wedding dress, being a bridesmaid in one of my own bridesmaid's wedding, a new job. They aren't chronicled but simply a stapled page in the beginning to remind me the entire year didn't suck. Sometimes it is difficult to think of those fun times when I remember how unhappy I was at the start of the year.
I'm writing in my Yes journal every morning at work (so 5 days a week). I check my email which is usually a bit depressing and then I think of something happy. I don't have to be to work immediately after I wake up in the morning so I usually spend time watching the news, coffee in hand, and a dog on my lap. These are all things I enjoy doing and I have the privilege of doing them daily. I put on a powerful lipstick color free from Clinique (even though my fiancé says it makes me look a bit pale and vampire ish). Side note: bought a new lip gloss at Target on Thursday and it makes me feel like I can take on the world. There is always something that has happened by 9am that makes me feel good about myself and saying yes to that decision is just the beginning.
Here's the challenge for you: go find that thing that makes you say yes everyday. Some days it is a promising opportunity to meet with a client. Other times it is a great lip color. Whatever you need to say yes to each day to make yourself successful, do it. Do it everyday. And do it with your whole being.
PS- Thanks, Kaitlin for the journal. I'm finally putting it to good use again and it's a godsend some days.
Wednesday, September 13, 2017
All Over the Place
This post might contain a little bit of everything but these are things that have been on my mind a lot lately. Some of them might resonate with you more than others but that's okay. Yesterday I turned 24. Not that I am old by any means but I spent a good chunk of the day yesterday in a contemplative state. A full day of phone calls and emails and meetings at work gave me plenty of time to sit and think. And here's what I thought about:
1. Expectations of failure never quite turn out the way we think. I had a track coach in high school who repeatedly said, "No fear of failure." It's a mantra I should have adopted in my garden this summer. I had never had a garden and didn't know what would happen. I anticipated more plants dying, not watering them enough, rabbits getting into the garden and eating the early plants, etc. None of it happened. I expected a certain amount of failure and now I'm up to my eyeballs in tomatoes. Also taking suggestions for what to do with so many of them...
2. Time goes faster the older you get. Last night I had drinks with a girl I met in preschool. We now find ourselves 20 years later living in the same city. It doesn't seem that long ago we were going to tumbling together every Tuesday night but now we have adult jobs and are living on our own. She told me about her brothers being well into their school years and I still picture them as little toddlers. Stepping away and not seeing something, be it people or buildings or cities, you realize how much can change in the blink of an eye.
3. Always use a travel coffee mug when transporting hot liquids in a moving vehicle. This one is actually from this morning. I spilled my coffee on my dress and car seat this morning as I was pulling out of my driveway. There was no time to turn around and fix it. I just had to go. Luckily I wore an abstractly patterned dress. Other than smelling like Mississippi Grogg coffee, I don't think anyone will notice the stain because it blends in so well. Nonetheless, use a lid whenever possible. Not that I didn't already know this but it's always a good reminder.
4. In the age of telemarketers I'm not surprised no one answers a call from a strange and unknown phone number. I make a lot of phone calls on a regular basis. I can only assume people don't like answering strange numbers because they assume I am some automated scam on the other line. They don't want to be bothered with such a nuisance. Maybe I'm wrong. Who knows but that's my theory and I'm sticking to it.
5. Why are we so bad at taking care of our own health but never miss a vet appointment for our pets? I haven't taken a multi-vitamin in weeks. My salad kick ended months ago. I haven't been great at working out lately because of an unpredictable schedule. But by golly I am going to the vet tonight so that my dog can get her monthly flea medication to take tomorrow. No way around that. I don't know at what point we start putting other people and pet's health in front of our own but it has happened to me and it makes me feel like a 40 year mom of 5.
1. Expectations of failure never quite turn out the way we think. I had a track coach in high school who repeatedly said, "No fear of failure." It's a mantra I should have adopted in my garden this summer. I had never had a garden and didn't know what would happen. I anticipated more plants dying, not watering them enough, rabbits getting into the garden and eating the early plants, etc. None of it happened. I expected a certain amount of failure and now I'm up to my eyeballs in tomatoes. Also taking suggestions for what to do with so many of them...
2. Time goes faster the older you get. Last night I had drinks with a girl I met in preschool. We now find ourselves 20 years later living in the same city. It doesn't seem that long ago we were going to tumbling together every Tuesday night but now we have adult jobs and are living on our own. She told me about her brothers being well into their school years and I still picture them as little toddlers. Stepping away and not seeing something, be it people or buildings or cities, you realize how much can change in the blink of an eye.
3. Always use a travel coffee mug when transporting hot liquids in a moving vehicle. This one is actually from this morning. I spilled my coffee on my dress and car seat this morning as I was pulling out of my driveway. There was no time to turn around and fix it. I just had to go. Luckily I wore an abstractly patterned dress. Other than smelling like Mississippi Grogg coffee, I don't think anyone will notice the stain because it blends in so well. Nonetheless, use a lid whenever possible. Not that I didn't already know this but it's always a good reminder.
4. In the age of telemarketers I'm not surprised no one answers a call from a strange and unknown phone number. I make a lot of phone calls on a regular basis. I can only assume people don't like answering strange numbers because they assume I am some automated scam on the other line. They don't want to be bothered with such a nuisance. Maybe I'm wrong. Who knows but that's my theory and I'm sticking to it.
And here's a cute picture of my dog to remind me to go to the vet tonight.
Monday, August 14, 2017
Comparison is the Thief of Joy
This past weekend I went to a wedding of someone I didn't know. I was a plus one to a wedding to a long time family friend of my fiancé's family. It was a nice opportunity to attend a wedding and take notes for my own because I didn't know the couple. It was an unbiased chance to look at design elements, program wording, and timeline layout without considering how much it represented the couple.
I had a conversation with other guests during the cocktail hour about the comparisons and judgements at weddings. I had to laugh as the man commented that his daughters better have flawless weddings because they always had something negative to say about other people's nuptials. It got me thinking: we all do it. We walk away having something bad to say. The bride and groom and their families put a lot of time and effort into this day for every guest to rip it to shreds.
The wedding I most recently attended was actually quite lovely. With the exception of the microphone not working while the bride and groom recited their personally written vows, the rest of the day was great. The church was appropriately sized for the size of the wedding. The bridesmaids had cute dresses they all looked good in and carried a simple arrangement of flowers. The groomsmen looked quite spiffy in their tuxes. The reception space was downtown and quite hip (little jealous of the original floor tile; wish I had that in my bathroom at home) with more than enough space for all the guests. I had a great meal of chicken and the pasta helping for the alternate entrée was massive. We had donuts for a cute and personal reason to the couple. The dance had an extremely high participation rate; more than half the guests were out there busting moves. I'm quite sure the groom's family is in a swing dance club because they all knew how to do it.
I walked away with a plethora of ideas: how to do a receiving line, songs I had completely forgotten about but needed to be on my wedding dance list, a plan of attack for RSVP card wording so that I knew who would be showing up and what they wanted to eat. The list goes on and on. I saw different set ups for aspects I hadn't even considered but will definitely need to, like place cards and diagrams for seating arrangements. And I too walked away with my judgements. I wouldn't call them bad; the wedding was fabulous itself. I would call my opinions my preferences. I wouldn't "fill in the blank" that way for my own wedding but it worked for them. It did not take away from the wedding experience. The efficiency freak within me didn't like how particular things were laid out but other guests didn't seem to notice or mind. My opinions simply didn't need to be shared, nor did anyone else's.
We all find nitpicky things to lock in on at weddings. It's become a habit for many people. As soon as we leave the ceremony/cocktail/reception/dance space we spill every critical detail we were holding inside. In reality, we all have preferences and they don't have to line up with the bride and groom's. The bride and groom had a blast on their big day and no one's opinion is going to ruin the joy they felt that day.
I had a conversation with other guests during the cocktail hour about the comparisons and judgements at weddings. I had to laugh as the man commented that his daughters better have flawless weddings because they always had something negative to say about other people's nuptials. It got me thinking: we all do it. We walk away having something bad to say. The bride and groom and their families put a lot of time and effort into this day for every guest to rip it to shreds.
The wedding I most recently attended was actually quite lovely. With the exception of the microphone not working while the bride and groom recited their personally written vows, the rest of the day was great. The church was appropriately sized for the size of the wedding. The bridesmaids had cute dresses they all looked good in and carried a simple arrangement of flowers. The groomsmen looked quite spiffy in their tuxes. The reception space was downtown and quite hip (little jealous of the original floor tile; wish I had that in my bathroom at home) with more than enough space for all the guests. I had a great meal of chicken and the pasta helping for the alternate entrée was massive. We had donuts for a cute and personal reason to the couple. The dance had an extremely high participation rate; more than half the guests were out there busting moves. I'm quite sure the groom's family is in a swing dance club because they all knew how to do it.
I walked away with a plethora of ideas: how to do a receiving line, songs I had completely forgotten about but needed to be on my wedding dance list, a plan of attack for RSVP card wording so that I knew who would be showing up and what they wanted to eat. The list goes on and on. I saw different set ups for aspects I hadn't even considered but will definitely need to, like place cards and diagrams for seating arrangements. And I too walked away with my judgements. I wouldn't call them bad; the wedding was fabulous itself. I would call my opinions my preferences. I wouldn't "fill in the blank" that way for my own wedding but it worked for them. It did not take away from the wedding experience. The efficiency freak within me didn't like how particular things were laid out but other guests didn't seem to notice or mind. My opinions simply didn't need to be shared, nor did anyone else's.
We all find nitpicky things to lock in on at weddings. It's become a habit for many people. As soon as we leave the ceremony/cocktail/reception/dance space we spill every critical detail we were holding inside. In reality, we all have preferences and they don't have to line up with the bride and groom's. The bride and groom had a blast on their big day and no one's opinion is going to ruin the joy they felt that day.
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Why yes, we did meet on the track team...
The other night I went to a networking event for young professionals in the Des Moines area. I entered the building with a few other girls who looked about my age. They had just graduated from Iowa State in the spring and were excited about their first jobs out of college; their enthusiasm was cute as they talked about having work phones, professional clothes, and business cards. We were swapping stories about our personal lives when one of them noticed my engagement ring. She thought it was gorgeous and couldn't get over how pretty it was. At this time I will thank my fiancé for buying a lovely ring (side note: I took him to a jewelry store to show him exactly what I wanted but he had to go buy it all by himself, something I highly recommend to all people dating that are considering engagement ring shopping alone vs. together).
Anyway, back to the girl who loved my ring. She said something that struck me as funny. She quite simply stated, "I'm not even close to getting engaged." She has been with her boyfriend a few months now but doesn't feel ready to be attached for life. To each their own on their relationship path; if you're happy I can get behind your happiness. I started thinking about my own relationship (and wedding website that is a work in progress) and how I got to this point.
I was not one to have lots of boyfriends in high school (or even middle school for that matter). I just wasn't. I had friends that were girls and I liked hanging out with the guys I went to high school with but many of them were tied to girls in other grades or had their sights set on someone unattainable. I went to college pretty much convinced I would die with a couple pets and spend a lot of time reading. Quite sure my family put down bets one year as to when I would get married with the earliest date being like 2040. During my freshman year of college the number of guys available to me increased immensely. There were several nice guys on campus but lots of girls liked them and I didn't stand a chance.
I ran track my freshman year as well. There was this random guy that was a sprinter and he was kinda scary looking because he didn't smile much and he was really good at the 100 meter dash. There was running joke about him being a convict because he had big arms and a tattoo. I think I knew his name. He definitely didn't know mine. Fast forward to the fall and my friend Jesse and I decided to make a habit of attending offseason fall workouts pretty religiously. We also decided to befriend some of the other guys there (there was only 1 other girl and we were already her friend). One guy was named Cole. Cole will tell you this is the moment Jesse and I put a bounty on his friendship and that is not what happened but I digress.
Eventually Jesse and I befriended a few of the guys from fall workouts. We even went so far as to have dinner with a few them (like a group date from The Bachelor except there's not a rose or Chris Harrison or fancy clothes). A trip to Europe for myself in January became a turning point. I hadn't gone out much in college to that point. Well I decided it was a way to meet people and get the full college experience.
One night, in a poorly lit bar that shall go unnamed, I was in line for the bathroom with my friend Bailey. I distinctly remember having to pee really bad. Well, one of my befriended track guy friends asked if I wanted to dance. I chose dancing over going to the bathroom (I always recommend peeing over dancing, for the record) but it worked out because we're getting married in 374 days. I'm not counting, I have an app to tell me.
So maybe you're wondering why I talked about the girl who isn't ready to get married I met this week. The short answer is that was me not many years ago. I was the one pretty sure I would die alone and leave money to some charity. But here I am. Don't sell yourself short. You will find someone. Think of the weirdest couple you know: they found each other so you can find someone too. It might be somewhere unglamorous like a college bar or somewhere wonderful like an adult bar with good food and an official happy hour. I don't know. The possibilities are endless.
And I've been a pretty stressful person this week so thanks to my wonderful fiancé for being patient and being great cheerleader. You're the best!
Anyway, back to the girl who loved my ring. She said something that struck me as funny. She quite simply stated, "I'm not even close to getting engaged." She has been with her boyfriend a few months now but doesn't feel ready to be attached for life. To each their own on their relationship path; if you're happy I can get behind your happiness. I started thinking about my own relationship (and wedding website that is a work in progress) and how I got to this point.
I was not one to have lots of boyfriends in high school (or even middle school for that matter). I just wasn't. I had friends that were girls and I liked hanging out with the guys I went to high school with but many of them were tied to girls in other grades or had their sights set on someone unattainable. I went to college pretty much convinced I would die with a couple pets and spend a lot of time reading. Quite sure my family put down bets one year as to when I would get married with the earliest date being like 2040. During my freshman year of college the number of guys available to me increased immensely. There were several nice guys on campus but lots of girls liked them and I didn't stand a chance.
I ran track my freshman year as well. There was this random guy that was a sprinter and he was kinda scary looking because he didn't smile much and he was really good at the 100 meter dash. There was running joke about him being a convict because he had big arms and a tattoo. I think I knew his name. He definitely didn't know mine. Fast forward to the fall and my friend Jesse and I decided to make a habit of attending offseason fall workouts pretty religiously. We also decided to befriend some of the other guys there (there was only 1 other girl and we were already her friend). One guy was named Cole. Cole will tell you this is the moment Jesse and I put a bounty on his friendship and that is not what happened but I digress.
Eventually Jesse and I befriended a few of the guys from fall workouts. We even went so far as to have dinner with a few them (like a group date from The Bachelor except there's not a rose or Chris Harrison or fancy clothes). A trip to Europe for myself in January became a turning point. I hadn't gone out much in college to that point. Well I decided it was a way to meet people and get the full college experience.
One night, in a poorly lit bar that shall go unnamed, I was in line for the bathroom with my friend Bailey. I distinctly remember having to pee really bad. Well, one of my befriended track guy friends asked if I wanted to dance. I chose dancing over going to the bathroom (I always recommend peeing over dancing, for the record) but it worked out because we're getting married in 374 days. I'm not counting, I have an app to tell me.
So maybe you're wondering why I talked about the girl who isn't ready to get married I met this week. The short answer is that was me not many years ago. I was the one pretty sure I would die alone and leave money to some charity. But here I am. Don't sell yourself short. You will find someone. Think of the weirdest couple you know: they found each other so you can find someone too. It might be somewhere unglamorous like a college bar or somewhere wonderful like an adult bar with good food and an official happy hour. I don't know. The possibilities are endless.
And I've been a pretty stressful person this week so thanks to my wonderful fiancé for being patient and being great cheerleader. You're the best!
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Just Hanging On
I haven't written in several months. I'm well aware. Life has been busy which shouldn't be an excuse but I'm going to stick with it. Here's the deal: since my last blog post I got engaged, changed jobs, studied full time since job change, was the maid of honor in a wedding, took three financial tests, and became a hermit to avoid the heat. I am out of the loop with the top songs on the radio and what is going on with the government. These seem insignificant until you go months at a time without being in the know. I have avoided blogging because I did not know exactly what life update and advice I could pass along. I did not want to face the reality of providing a life update at a time I was in chaos and uncertainty.
In short, wedding planning and new work have taken over my life to a level I could not have dreamed. The short synopsis of wedding planning thus far is that a lot is done. We have picked a date, location, bridal party, dress, colors, food (kinda), and other things I'm not sharing before the guests see it for themselves. It is fun but stressful. I don't even begin to know how much is still left to do. I bought a wedding planning binder but I haven't looked at it much. You begin to realize how much you do and do not care about certain things and do not need a list telling you what to do. I don't care about table runners but my mom does so we are having table runners. My fiance is a good sport and is letting me make most decisions. He knows that wedding day logistics matter more to me than to him. I ask for feedback and he provides it accordingly. It is a lot of odd compromises that come together to form a full day in the end.
But the new job. I was at my old job from July 2016 to May 2017. It was boring cubicle job where I wasn't making myself any better and I wasn't helping enough people directly. I wanted to leave it sooner but I struggled to find something I liked and something I had a few qualifications for. HR departments did not want to gamble on a psychology major with health and religion minors who listed architecture photography, park and recreation, and cubicle experience under skills and activities. I was a hodge podge of talents without a directed focus and plan. Eventually I applied for a financial services company and was hired on as a full time studier for the summer. Industry regulations require some standardized testing before becoming an official representative. Part of my hermit summer could be chalked up to studying for tests full time. I was at the Urbandale library often enough the workers noticed my haircut and when I sat at a table other than my usual one. Studying went ok. It was difficult and not fun.
The sense of impending failure was imminent as I studied. I had a hard time telling people what I was doing for a living because I didn't want to tell them about my job, only to turn around in a few months and say I was unemployed. What would I put on resume? "Unsuccessfully studied for securities exam and failed with flying colors?" I kept to myself because I didn't want to admit failure ahead. If no one knew the job was even on the table it would be easier to tell them about the next one and leave out the failure part. The good news is I passed the necessary exams and can do my job. I still struggle with admitting my work to people because the sense of potential embarrassment from failure. It sounds funny to say out loud how worried I was about failing. I was not one to fail things (minus a college biology test once, but that is another story) and this would be my biggest failure to date. I can't tell you how many times I was told in school to have no fear of failure but it was impossible this summer. Anything could happen and I had no back up plan.
I had two tests to take and was extremely uneasy about the first one. My practice test scores were low and my mentor monitoring my progress through the study program was encouraging but not optimistic. We spoke to the reality of not passing. I was so convinced I wasn't going to pass I was job searching the night before the test. I passed; not with flying colors, but that final computer screen said "pass" and that is really all that matters. I took my second test and failed. I could tell as I took it I was going to fail. It was a very factual feeling. It wasn't a matter of being under prepared but rather what I had studied based on the program was not what showed up on the test. Oh well. I was a mess. I cried the 20 minute drive home from the test center and was so distraught I started to head west on the interstate instead of east toward home (having been to the testing center several times before).
Cole and I headed to the Twin Cities after my test and I was still quite upset but ready to not think about securities regulation for four straight days. I happened to meet another representative from my company that night and we talked through the tests and how miserable they were. I didn't quite have the heart to tell him I failed one that morning. He disclosed he had also failed the same test I had and it provided more comfort than I could have gotten anywhere else. I was able to take a different test the following week that would satisfy industry requirements for now. I have another one to take at a later date but I will be prepared for that level of difficulty this time around.
The reality is career changes are terrifying in a lot of ways. Nobody wants to admit they failed anything. I can hope that I become successful and it will make my uneasiness about this potential career failure seem like small potatoes. I have a postcard hanging in my office that says, "90% of life is about hanging on." It has become my new career motto. Sometimes just a little belief in yourself can go a long way. If I just keep moving forward I will be ok. If you need me, I'll be just hanging on.
In short, wedding planning and new work have taken over my life to a level I could not have dreamed. The short synopsis of wedding planning thus far is that a lot is done. We have picked a date, location, bridal party, dress, colors, food (kinda), and other things I'm not sharing before the guests see it for themselves. It is fun but stressful. I don't even begin to know how much is still left to do. I bought a wedding planning binder but I haven't looked at it much. You begin to realize how much you do and do not care about certain things and do not need a list telling you what to do. I don't care about table runners but my mom does so we are having table runners. My fiance is a good sport and is letting me make most decisions. He knows that wedding day logistics matter more to me than to him. I ask for feedback and he provides it accordingly. It is a lot of odd compromises that come together to form a full day in the end.
But the new job. I was at my old job from July 2016 to May 2017. It was boring cubicle job where I wasn't making myself any better and I wasn't helping enough people directly. I wanted to leave it sooner but I struggled to find something I liked and something I had a few qualifications for. HR departments did not want to gamble on a psychology major with health and religion minors who listed architecture photography, park and recreation, and cubicle experience under skills and activities. I was a hodge podge of talents without a directed focus and plan. Eventually I applied for a financial services company and was hired on as a full time studier for the summer. Industry regulations require some standardized testing before becoming an official representative. Part of my hermit summer could be chalked up to studying for tests full time. I was at the Urbandale library often enough the workers noticed my haircut and when I sat at a table other than my usual one. Studying went ok. It was difficult and not fun.
The sense of impending failure was imminent as I studied. I had a hard time telling people what I was doing for a living because I didn't want to tell them about my job, only to turn around in a few months and say I was unemployed. What would I put on resume? "Unsuccessfully studied for securities exam and failed with flying colors?" I kept to myself because I didn't want to admit failure ahead. If no one knew the job was even on the table it would be easier to tell them about the next one and leave out the failure part. The good news is I passed the necessary exams and can do my job. I still struggle with admitting my work to people because the sense of potential embarrassment from failure. It sounds funny to say out loud how worried I was about failing. I was not one to fail things (minus a college biology test once, but that is another story) and this would be my biggest failure to date. I can't tell you how many times I was told in school to have no fear of failure but it was impossible this summer. Anything could happen and I had no back up plan.
I had two tests to take and was extremely uneasy about the first one. My practice test scores were low and my mentor monitoring my progress through the study program was encouraging but not optimistic. We spoke to the reality of not passing. I was so convinced I wasn't going to pass I was job searching the night before the test. I passed; not with flying colors, but that final computer screen said "pass" and that is really all that matters. I took my second test and failed. I could tell as I took it I was going to fail. It was a very factual feeling. It wasn't a matter of being under prepared but rather what I had studied based on the program was not what showed up on the test. Oh well. I was a mess. I cried the 20 minute drive home from the test center and was so distraught I started to head west on the interstate instead of east toward home (having been to the testing center several times before).
Cole and I headed to the Twin Cities after my test and I was still quite upset but ready to not think about securities regulation for four straight days. I happened to meet another representative from my company that night and we talked through the tests and how miserable they were. I didn't quite have the heart to tell him I failed one that morning. He disclosed he had also failed the same test I had and it provided more comfort than I could have gotten anywhere else. I was able to take a different test the following week that would satisfy industry requirements for now. I have another one to take at a later date but I will be prepared for that level of difficulty this time around.
The reality is career changes are terrifying in a lot of ways. Nobody wants to admit they failed anything. I can hope that I become successful and it will make my uneasiness about this potential career failure seem like small potatoes. I have a postcard hanging in my office that says, "90% of life is about hanging on." It has become my new career motto. Sometimes just a little belief in yourself can go a long way. If I just keep moving forward I will be ok. If you need me, I'll be just hanging on.
Sunday, March 26, 2017
DSM: The Smallest City
I joined a church recently. Nothing fancy but I didn't know which one to choose. Like any good millennial I Googled "Lutheran churches near me" and went the following Sunday to the closest one. It worked out well. I happened to sit by the pastor's wife and she went to Luther. One of her best friends in college was my high school calculus teacher. The world already felt small. A quick glance around the church I realized I recognized another Luther grad that I had met at a random bar in Des Moines almost a month ago. Saw another Luther family in the church parking lot who's daughter ran track with me in college. Of all the churches, Lutheran or otherwise, I had managed to pick one where I had small string of connections. It was cute. It was fun. I liked finding Luther people outside the Twin Cities, since it seemed like most of them went there after graduation.
Like any good Lutheran in a small church, a woman came up to me at the end of the service last week and said, "You must be new here because I've never seen you before." A part of me giggled because the moment was "so Lutheran" but I continued on because everyone I had met at the church was nice so far. I explained that I was relatively new to Des Moines and had been looking around for a church when I came across this one. I had been meaning to start coming to church for awhile but a series of plumbing issues on Sundays that lasted a month and half had prevented me up to that point. She asked if I was from the neighborhood because she lived nearby years ago. I said I did live quite close. She told me when she lived nearby she had had plumbing trouble as well. She proceeded to tell me the street name. I said I lived on that same street. She asked me the number so I told her. March 19, 2017, will go down as the strangest day in the history of my life because at church I met one of the previous owners of my house. She had lived in that very house in the late 80s, 90s, and early 2000s. I threw out an invitation to have her over and see the place now. She was delighted. The conversation came naturally and neither one of knew when it started that we would have so much in common.
What are the odds a woman approaches me and asked where I live? And then proceeds to tell me she used to live there? I can't even fathom how that is possible. The Des Moines metro population is 622,899. It does not seem possible for our paths to cross let alone discover we share an address in history.
Like any good Lutheran in a small church, a woman came up to me at the end of the service last week and said, "You must be new here because I've never seen you before." A part of me giggled because the moment was "so Lutheran" but I continued on because everyone I had met at the church was nice so far. I explained that I was relatively new to Des Moines and had been looking around for a church when I came across this one. I had been meaning to start coming to church for awhile but a series of plumbing issues on Sundays that lasted a month and half had prevented me up to that point. She asked if I was from the neighborhood because she lived nearby years ago. I said I did live quite close. She told me when she lived nearby she had had plumbing trouble as well. She proceeded to tell me the street name. I said I lived on that same street. She asked me the number so I told her. March 19, 2017, will go down as the strangest day in the history of my life because at church I met one of the previous owners of my house. She had lived in that very house in the late 80s, 90s, and early 2000s. I threw out an invitation to have her over and see the place now. She was delighted. The conversation came naturally and neither one of knew when it started that we would have so much in common.
What are the odds a woman approaches me and asked where I live? And then proceeds to tell me she used to live there? I can't even fathom how that is possible. The Des Moines metro population is 622,899. It does not seem possible for our paths to cross let alone discover we share an address in history.
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Homeownership Owns Us Pt. 1
Back in December Cole (and me kinda, but not in the legal or financial sense) bought a house. We had some done some math and figured out a price point where our house payment each month would be about the same cost as rent; we would actually be able to build something with our lives instead of throwing money aimlessly at rent each month. It only made sense.
Our house hunting adventure began in October. We saw some great houses in bad neighborhoods and horrific houses in great neighborhoods. We finally found the house we bought: it was a decent house that needed some manageable TLC in a nice neighborhood. We jumped at it. Fast forward through packing up an apartment with a puppy reopening every box we packed, and moving across town in a sleet/snow/ice storm: we made it. We had a new house; we had new furniture; we had a backyard for our dog. We thought we were on the fast track to living the dream.
During our clean up and small fixer upper projects my dad repeatedly mentioned that, "You don't own the house; the house owns you." Two weeks after we moved in we did laundry for the first time (because we didn't have a working dryer up until that point) and the carpet was wet in our basement. We had never done laundry and showered and run our dishwasher all in a short window of time. We figured that was probably it and a relatively simple fix: only do one of those at a time. Well it kept happening even if we only did laundry. Or took a long shower. We called a plumber and he replaced part of a pipe he thought might be leaking. Thought the problem was solved and we could go back to our lives. Well it kept happening. Our carpet was wet for unexplained reasons.
We had a sewer guy come over and he ran a snake down the sewer line. He couldn't find any trouble and thought he might have broken up a clot or wiped away some build up. Little did we know he would show up 6 more times in our lives. Every Sunday or Monday we were calling him to snake our sewer line so that we could function. This went on for several weeks. Between Cole and I we missed a fair amount of work, sitting at home waiting for plumbers to show up. We met some very nice plumbers along the way who offered us way more discounts on their services than were necessary but were greatly appreciated.
One night our pipe got so full of water from our sump pump emptying into it, we had to bale water out of the basement from noon to 5AM the next day. It was horrible. The sump pump was going off every 15 minutes. So every 15 minutes we rushed into our laundry room and filled a few buckets with water. We walked them up and out of the basement into the backyard. Cole and I took shifts so that we each got some sleep out of the deal. The phrase "sump pump" still gives me a bit of anxiety now. For the days following the sump pump incident I would panic at work at the sound of a toilet flushing. It will go down as one of the weirdest nights of my life.
The only reason we waited so long to fix the sewer line was because we were advised to purchase insurance that would pay for the cost of replacing the sewer line. Well, we got the wrong insurance (thought we had the right one) and just had to go for it. Come February 13th our entire yard was dug up only to determine that 5 feet of pipe in the boulevard had collapsed and needed to be replaced. We now have a very large mound of dirt in our front yard that is ever so slowly going down. But we have working sewer line and that's all that matters.
So right now, the house owns us. A lot. Eventually we will own enough of it to outweigh the early struggles. It is still really fun. We can put a hole in the wall to hang a picture if we want and we won't get fined. A couple weeks ago we decided spur of the moment to paint a navy blue room light green–simply because we could and no one said we couldn't. It's great. We have a dog, a house, a bunch of freedom...And it's pretty cool.
Our house hunting adventure began in October. We saw some great houses in bad neighborhoods and horrific houses in great neighborhoods. We finally found the house we bought: it was a decent house that needed some manageable TLC in a nice neighborhood. We jumped at it. Fast forward through packing up an apartment with a puppy reopening every box we packed, and moving across town in a sleet/snow/ice storm: we made it. We had a new house; we had new furniture; we had a backyard for our dog. We thought we were on the fast track to living the dream.
During our clean up and small fixer upper projects my dad repeatedly mentioned that, "You don't own the house; the house owns you." Two weeks after we moved in we did laundry for the first time (because we didn't have a working dryer up until that point) and the carpet was wet in our basement. We had never done laundry and showered and run our dishwasher all in a short window of time. We figured that was probably it and a relatively simple fix: only do one of those at a time. Well it kept happening even if we only did laundry. Or took a long shower. We called a plumber and he replaced part of a pipe he thought might be leaking. Thought the problem was solved and we could go back to our lives. Well it kept happening. Our carpet was wet for unexplained reasons.
We had a sewer guy come over and he ran a snake down the sewer line. He couldn't find any trouble and thought he might have broken up a clot or wiped away some build up. Little did we know he would show up 6 more times in our lives. Every Sunday or Monday we were calling him to snake our sewer line so that we could function. This went on for several weeks. Between Cole and I we missed a fair amount of work, sitting at home waiting for plumbers to show up. We met some very nice plumbers along the way who offered us way more discounts on their services than were necessary but were greatly appreciated.
One night our pipe got so full of water from our sump pump emptying into it, we had to bale water out of the basement from noon to 5AM the next day. It was horrible. The sump pump was going off every 15 minutes. So every 15 minutes we rushed into our laundry room and filled a few buckets with water. We walked them up and out of the basement into the backyard. Cole and I took shifts so that we each got some sleep out of the deal. The phrase "sump pump" still gives me a bit of anxiety now. For the days following the sump pump incident I would panic at work at the sound of a toilet flushing. It will go down as one of the weirdest nights of my life.
The only reason we waited so long to fix the sewer line was because we were advised to purchase insurance that would pay for the cost of replacing the sewer line. Well, we got the wrong insurance (thought we had the right one) and just had to go for it. Come February 13th our entire yard was dug up only to determine that 5 feet of pipe in the boulevard had collapsed and needed to be replaced. We now have a very large mound of dirt in our front yard that is ever so slowly going down. But we have working sewer line and that's all that matters.
So right now, the house owns us. A lot. Eventually we will own enough of it to outweigh the early struggles. It is still really fun. We can put a hole in the wall to hang a picture if we want and we won't get fined. A couple weeks ago we decided spur of the moment to paint a navy blue room light green–simply because we could and no one said we couldn't. It's great. We have a dog, a house, a bunch of freedom...And it's pretty cool.
2-13-2017
3-19-2017
Saturday, January 21, 2017
Phipps Phamily
Last Saturday my grandma Linda passed away; she was 92 years old and her death was not sudden. That does not make it any less sad but 7 hours alone in the car gave me ample time for reflection. I got to see most of my cousins this weekend. This is the first time in over a decade I have seen a few of them. Others I saw a couple years ago for my grandma's 90th birthday party. They are a hilarious bunch and I wish we got together more often.
Here's the kicker: we are spread out in age and geography. My oldest cousin is closing in on 50 and my brother (the youngest cousin) just turned 21. We're spread out over almost 30 years. To say we don't have a lot in common is an understatement. We are scattered all around the United States. Many are in Iowa, there's the Montana contingent, then a Colorado, Nebraska, North Carolina, and Wisconsin. I think that's everybody. Sorry if I missed someone's state. We only get together for funerals, weddings, and major milestone birthday parties. It's tough to coordinate schedules, flights, and days off but we do the best we can.
Keeping all this in mind, we do share one thing in common regardless of age and geography. We share the same set of grandparents. Our grandparents were wonderful people and while they are neither one are here on earth, they are finally back together. Even if their grandchildren are spread out in age, there are certain characteristics about our grandparents that I imagine have not changed throughout our lives.
1. Crazy Bee Rummy: this is a card game very similar to Phase 10. I don't know when they got the game but I plan to track down my own copy of the game because it was fun and easy to play. We played it every holiday and it had to be played in marathon form. It never went quickly because we usually played with a lot of people. We all have our own favorite memory of playing the game with Grandma and Grandpa.
2. Birthday cakes are extra special when your grandma was a cake decorator for a living: We each had our fair share of fancy birthday cakes, decorated to honor of our favorite hobbies, sports teams, and games. I spent most of my life thinking my first birthday cake was special. Turns out we all the same one. Grandma went so far as to mail birthday cakes if she couldn't be there to deliver it herself. Not that that method worked out really well, but it's the thought that counts.
3. Quilts: Grandma was a very accomplished quilter and made one for each of her grandkids. Her sewing room was always overtaken with family at holidays but Grandma made sure her quilting supplies were in a nice stopping place. I have a quilt made of my mom's childhood clothes. I also took one from her apartment that she was going to give away. It looks straight from the 70s and everyone that uses it smirks at the coloring. It is special nonetheless.
4. Black raspberries: I was personally never old enough to go out into the woods and pick black raspberries with Grandpa but I definitely ate my fair share of berries when he came back. Even now my mom puts them on ice cream because she's eaten them that way for years. There was always homemade black raspberry jam at Grandma and Grandpa's house too. Every time I see black raspberries in the grocery store I smile.
5. Family picture shelf: Grandma and Grandpa were always proud of their family. Always. And when you have 6 kids and 15 grandkids you have to put all their pictures on display. They had shelves at their house where they kept all their family pictures. The grandchildren were divided into 2 shelves: school pictures and wedding photos. Your senior photo stayed on the grandchild shelf until you got married and then you moved to the other side of the TV to the married children shelf. It was big deal.
Our grandparents were special. We meant the world to them and they meant the world to us. As sad as it is they are both gone, they are together again–which has been Grandma's wish for the last decade and I'm happy she finally got her wish.
Here's the kicker: we are spread out in age and geography. My oldest cousin is closing in on 50 and my brother (the youngest cousin) just turned 21. We're spread out over almost 30 years. To say we don't have a lot in common is an understatement. We are scattered all around the United States. Many are in Iowa, there's the Montana contingent, then a Colorado, Nebraska, North Carolina, and Wisconsin. I think that's everybody. Sorry if I missed someone's state. We only get together for funerals, weddings, and major milestone birthday parties. It's tough to coordinate schedules, flights, and days off but we do the best we can.
 |
| Cousins (most of us anyway) |
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| A good portion of the Phipps family |
1. Crazy Bee Rummy: this is a card game very similar to Phase 10. I don't know when they got the game but I plan to track down my own copy of the game because it was fun and easy to play. We played it every holiday and it had to be played in marathon form. It never went quickly because we usually played with a lot of people. We all have our own favorite memory of playing the game with Grandma and Grandpa.
2. Birthday cakes are extra special when your grandma was a cake decorator for a living: We each had our fair share of fancy birthday cakes, decorated to honor of our favorite hobbies, sports teams, and games. I spent most of my life thinking my first birthday cake was special. Turns out we all the same one. Grandma went so far as to mail birthday cakes if she couldn't be there to deliver it herself. Not that that method worked out really well, but it's the thought that counts.
3. Quilts: Grandma was a very accomplished quilter and made one for each of her grandkids. Her sewing room was always overtaken with family at holidays but Grandma made sure her quilting supplies were in a nice stopping place. I have a quilt made of my mom's childhood clothes. I also took one from her apartment that she was going to give away. It looks straight from the 70s and everyone that uses it smirks at the coloring. It is special nonetheless.
4. Black raspberries: I was personally never old enough to go out into the woods and pick black raspberries with Grandpa but I definitely ate my fair share of berries when he came back. Even now my mom puts them on ice cream because she's eaten them that way for years. There was always homemade black raspberry jam at Grandma and Grandpa's house too. Every time I see black raspberries in the grocery store I smile.
5. Family picture shelf: Grandma and Grandpa were always proud of their family. Always. And when you have 6 kids and 15 grandkids you have to put all their pictures on display. They had shelves at their house where they kept all their family pictures. The grandchildren were divided into 2 shelves: school pictures and wedding photos. Your senior photo stayed on the grandchild shelf until you got married and then you moved to the other side of the TV to the married children shelf. It was big deal.
~~~~~
I can still smell Grandma's Estee Lauder perfume. I giggle every time I picture the bull slippers Grandpa owned. I thank them both for inspiring my cow themed kitchen. Once a year I try to eat grapefruit because we always had it for breakfast at Christmas (I'll eat one and then bail on my plan). Out of habit I always have 3 cans of tuna, just like Grandma. Sometimes I forget how fresh Honey Nut Cheerios can be because they were always stale at the house. I cannot believe we used to play hide and seek in a single level house. They had the coolest bin of plastic figurines and toys and Grandma always made sure to have it out before we got there. We all played with the duck pull behind toy at kids. Every time I see an elderly woman wearing pantyhose in the summer I picture Grandma too.Our grandparents were special. We meant the world to them and they meant the world to us. As sad as it is they are both gone, they are together again–which has been Grandma's wish for the last decade and I'm happy she finally got her wish.
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