What Keeps us Going

Sometimes I feel like I've spent the past two years in a constant state of "stressed out" with living in the real world.  But it's always nice when something happens to remind me that for now, I'm in the right place.

Ask anyone who works at a summer camp and you will be told that we "don't have favorites" when it comes to campers.  But it's all a load of crap.  We all have our favorite kids over the years.  Some are lifers at camp, and others only come once but manage to leave a strong enough impression that they make the list.  One of my favorites is here at New Year's Camp this week.  

Tonight, at the big NYE bash, he was sipping sparkling grape juice from a plastic champagne flute with his pinky finger extended.  I told him that I liked how he was holding his cup like that, to which he responded, "I don't know why I do that I just have this problem with my hands."  I told him that in fact, he did not have a problem, that it was the classy way to hold a fancy drinking glass, and that his hands were perfectly normal.

He then proceeded to thank me...for calling him normal.  

It kind of broke my heart that being called normal seemed to make his day better.  It's really ironic, though, because around here, nobody is normal, and that's what makes us all our very own kind of normal.  

An Ode to Fungus

It's the holidays.  I would like to spend my money on holiday-like things.  So in an effort to be more financially conscious, I am making it a point to make more meals at home.  On tonight's menu is Kung-Pao Crab Stir-Fry.  Super easy and SUPER delicious.  (fry up a pack of Uncle Ben's instant Jasmine rice, 2 eggs, peanuts, shredded carrots, cabbage, soybeans, mushrooms, bean sprouts, chopped red onion, whatever meat you've got, and whatever else you like with a little olive oil and the stir fry sauce of your choosing...tonight I used Panda Express's Kung Pao sauce).

Anyway, as I was standing over the wok, tossing in obscene amounts of mushrooms, I thought to myself, "Is this too many mushrooms?"  To which I quickly responded, "No such thing."  But it got me thinking about shrooms and just how incredibly delicious they actually are. I realize and appreciate that not everyone loves to eat fungus, but I was so into thinking about how much I liked them, I did a little research and learned that they're actually delicious AND interesting!!

The average American eats four pounds of mushrooms per year (good to know I'm well above average) while the average Japanese person consumes 26 pounds per year.

Ancient Egyptians called mushrooms the "plant of immortality" and commoners were prohibited from even handling them.

Mushrooms, unlike most plants, consume oxygen during digestion and metabolization and produce carbon dioxide waste (like humans!!!)

There is an estimated 1.5-2 million species of fungus on the planet, but only approximately 80,000 are properly identified.

Some South American Amazon tribes use the same word for mushrooms as they do for meat, as they believe they have the same nutritional value.

All of this mushroom talk reminded me of a great book by Elinor Lipman called The Inn at Lake Devine.  I think I may  have actually blogged about the book before.  But mushrooms play a surprisingly big role in the book...which only makes me want to eat them more!!!

What's the Secret?

I like to think that I'm pretty decent in the kitchen.  I cook and bake and nobody ever complains.  I try fun new recipes, I make the classics.  And I get the feeling that people genuinely enjoy the food I make for them.

So why is it that when I go to recreate my favorite dishes from home, that they just aren't quite as good?

Today was a perfect example.  My sister came to my house this weekend to help me get it all organized before we have the big family Christmas here.  I keep telling her she should go into business as a personal organizer.  In a matter of about four hours, the kitchen, dining room, living room, and pantry were perfect.  The Christmas trees I bought last weekend were set up, plugged in, and decorated.  Furniture was moved and I had started on the colossal task of sorting out my own room.  In the process of sorting and organizing the pantry, Emily proclaimed that I wasn't allowed to go grocery shopping again until I needed perishable items.  Apparently I have to many jars of red plum jam in there.  

So this afternoon when I started to get hungry, I looked at what I had and thought about what I could make.  I realized that I had all the ingredients for Chuck Wagon Round-Up, one of my all time favorite dishes from when I was a kid.  It's basically a beenie-weenie pie with a sort of cornbread-ish crust.  I know, it sounds kind of awful.  But it's beans and hot dogs and cheese and sour cream: what else could you possibly want?!  It was so delicious tonight, but not as good as I remember.

Another recipe that does this to me is Creamed Beef Cheesy...probably my all-time favorite dish.  It's a cheese sauce with chipped beef served over hot biscuits. Amazing.  But every time I try to make it, I somehow ruin the sauce and end up eating biscuits with butter and jelly.

And then I realized why.  It's because no matter how I try, I will never be able to make anything that will taste as good as when Mom makes it.  

Time Flies

I just realized that exactly two years ago today I started my job here.  MY HOW TIME FLIES.

Barefoot Bolognese

Dad and I were watching Barefoot Contessa yesterday while waiting for Mom and Em to get ready to head to the Harvest Festival out at Coyote Moon Vineyards.  Long story short, we decided to try stealing one of Ina's recipes and making it for dinner tonight.  Even though Em didn't think she'd like it because of the tomatoes in it, we went ahead with our plan.  

It actually turned out to be absolutely fantastic, so I thought I'd share with all two of you who read this, in case you're looking for something new to spice up your recipe arsenal.  We made three small changes to the original recipe and managed not to ruin it.  It was quick and easy to prepare, taking only about 30 minutes from start to finish.  Hope you enjoy:

Ingredients:

-2 tablespoons of good olive oil (plus another splash to cook the pasta)

-1 pound lean ground sirloin (we used regular ground beef)

-4 teaspoons minced garlic (or 4 fresh minced cloves)

-1 tablespoon dried oregano (I substituted a couple shakes of ground cumin)

-1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (I added more to make it a bit spicier)

-1 1/4 cups dry red wine (we used Chianti)

-1 can crushed tomatoes (we used a jar of diced tomatoes, canned by a friend)

-2 heaping tablespoons tomato paste

-salt & pepper

-1 box pasta (we used bowties, the recipe called for orecchiette)

-1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

-1/4 cup chopped fresh basil leaves

-1/4 cup heavy cream

1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus some for serving

What to do:

Heat olive oil in a skillet and brown the beef, crumbling it well.  Once most of the pink is gone, add garlic, oregano (or cumin), and red pepper flakes.  Add one cup of wine and stir well.  Then add the tomatoes, tomato paste, one tablespoon of salt, and 1-2 teaspoons of pepper (depending on taste).  Stir until all is combined then bring to a boil.  Let it simmer for 6-8 minutes, add nutmeg, cream, 1/4 cup wine (more or less....), and basil.  Keep it at a bubbling simmer for another 5 minutes, then stir in grated Parmesan, pour over the pasta and stir.

Then devour!  :)

Texting at Random

The other night I got a text from a number I didn't recognize or have stored.  Whenever this happens and the text gives me no clues as to who is on the other end, I like to play games.  This is how it went down:

Random 270#: This is your sister my new number what you doin drive Dowo here if nothing
Me: Where are you?
Random 270#: The brown house
Me: Since when do you live in a brown house?
Random 270#: This is where s i an at
Me: Are you sure you're MY sister?
Random 270#:
Me: I think you typed that in invisible ink.
Random 270#: Lol yes my Birthday card had two girls but the hair was switched up
Me: It's your birthday? Mom didn't tell me!
Random 270#: Huh now your confusing me
Random 270#: Huh
Me: This is my confession: I think you have the wrong number.

I won't quit my day job.....

...but I just want to say that the acoustics in my dining room make it sound like I actually have a decent singing voice.  I am never leaving this room.  I'm just going to stay here and sing to my heart's content.  Which is okay since there are no neighbors for me to offend.

Last Will and Testament

I'm trying to be productive today and clean out my email inbox. It's currently sitting at 3300+ messages, only two of which are unread. But even that is a misnomer because they have in fact been read, and then marked unopened so I can easily find them tomorrow.

Anyway, I came across what is perhaps my favorite email of all time. Well, it definitely ranks in the top two. So I thought I would share this with you. I received it on a warm August afternoon from none other than Ms. Kashmir Simmons, who was on a train to New York City:

To: Bekah, Doria, Marisa, Mike

CC: Samantha

Subject: If I die...

The conductor just said that the signals are down between wilmington and philadelphia, and that traffic is intense. If I die in a train crash, Samantha is responsible for all of my stuff. She has been cc'd in this email.

Doria: you can have my thor hammer

Marisa: you can have my twentieth anniversary edition of Dazed and Confused

Ben: (who is not copied on this email) can have my car BUT he can never sell it ever. Otherwise it defaults to Mike B bc of that one time he got stuck in the back seat and made me laugh until I almost peed myself in the la tolteca parking lot.

Mike B: you can have my sombrero and chili pepper necklace: wear them well.

Joe Bundy: (who is not copied on this email) that dress. And he has to wear it to my ashes spreading ceremony. WITH THE COWBOY HAT!

Bekah: you can have my copies of "the help," "1000 white women," and "the sugar queen." Also: my lotr and star wars paraphernalia.

Matt: (who is not copied on this email) you can have my medieval times sword. I know you will wield it with dignity and honor.

Farewell my friends! I have loved you all dearly!

Love,

Kashmir

P.s. My train is running late.

A Hint of Wasabi

Today was a fun day spent at the Town of LaPlata's annual chili cook off. We had a team entered in the contest from work and since it involved cooking of any sort, I volunteered to be the ringleader. There is, after all, this one kind of chili that I really love to make because it is so easy and appealing to people of all levels of moral eating standards. So I insisted we register for the vegetarian category, thinking that there would be less competition and maybe we would FINALLY win one of these town contests.

The great thing about this chili is that is is incredibly easy to make. You throw a bunch of stuff into a slow cooker and let it simmer overnight. Then you've got this fantastic chili that you don't have to worry so much about [temperature-wise] because it doesn't have meat in it that will quickly go bad. It smells really spicy, but only has a little kick to your mouth. Give it a try sometime:

Chipotle Black Bean Chili

Ingredients:

-2 cans black beans, drained and rinsed

-2 cans diced tomatoes w/peppers and onions

-2 cups salsa (your choice)

-1/2 white onion, finely chopped

-1 Tbsp chili powder

-1 tsp minced garlic

-1 tsp ground chipotle pepper powder

-1 tsp ground cumin

Directions:

Toss it all in and simmer on low for 8-10 hours.

But then I read the rules for this particular chili cook-off and realized that I was potentially doomed. The rules stated that because all chilis had to be made from scratch, the only canned item we could use was beans. Fast forward to last night, and I (along with two other staff) found myself chopping a 20-pound case of tomatoes, an entire flat of cherry tomatoes, fresh peppers, onions, and jalapenos. When we decided that we had enough (which in the end was far too much) chili in the pot and needed to let it simmer, I was concerned.

It just didn't look or smell quite right. But we left it on the stove and just let it be for a while. I went back to check it around midnight and felt a little better about it. But it wasn't until my 3:30am check that I knew it was going to be okay. The smell of it took me back to Indiana, to my little one-bedroom-off-campus-campus apartment, to the first time I ever made it...

You see, I had been assigned to make potato salad for a potluck back in grad school. And since I'm grossly unskilled at estimating how much food a crowd will eat, I bought approximately 40 pounds of potatoes. Of course, I only ended up needing about 10, and then had 30 pounds of potatoes on my hands and nobody to feed. So I made a facebook event called "Leftover Potatoes" and invited everyone over. And then realized that Inga, my vegan friend, would be attending and I had animal products in just about everything on the menu.

I did a quick google search for vegan crockpot recipes and this was the first thing that came up. I was so delightfully surprised by its heartiness despite its lack of meat that it became a regular staple of my apartment. I almost always had some in the crockpot. I made it for my parents when I was visiting on a Friday during Lent. I've entered it in numerous chili cookoffs, and each time altering the ingredients just a little to find perfection.

And today I think I finally did. You see, I've also been known to make what's called "The Double Burner" - because it burns on the way in and on the way out. The first time I made that I was on a mission to make the eaters of it sweat and cry. I went to the grocery store and grabbed every spicy thing I could find. Wasabi included. And then, this morning, just before we packed up to head to the Town Hall, I dropped in a teaspoon of wasabi.

We got a lot of good reviews, and a lot of thankful smiles from the vegans who had been dragged to the event by friends and family. We didn't even place when it came time to announce winners. Of course we're slightly disappointed, but overall it was a good day. I got to spend it feeding people, and that's what I love!

I'm eating a bowl of the leftover chili as I type this. It's cooled to almost room temperature, and the only utensil I could find is a fork. But I'm making it work.

A good start?

A couple of years ago, while visiting one of my cousins (who shall remain nameless), I was bored and he had a lot of homework to do. I offered to help out, to provide some inspiration if you will. One assignment he was particularly struggling with was an original short story for a creative writing class. So I started writing, and the following is what I came up with. In the end he turned in a completely different story, so I didn't have to feel guilty about aiding in scholastic delinquency.

But I thought I would share it here. So if you have a few minutes, keep reading, and let me know if you'd like to know what happens next.....

It took every ounce of strength I had just to open my eyes. It was as if my body was trying to tell me that I was better off not waking up. I wasn't sure how long I had been asleep, nor could I figure out why my whole being felt like solid lead instead of flesh and blood. Come to think of it, I really wasn't sure of anything at that moment. I ran through the events of the past few days in my mind: moved into a new apartment in Indianapolis, drove back to Denver, and planned the perfect proposal to my girlfriend Genevieve. I was going to pop the question at dinner. Since she was graduating with her MBA today, Vee’s whole family would be in town to celebrate. And with the perfect ring that her best friend Ellie helped me choose, she wouldn’t be able to say no. Well, if I was asleep, then she must have already said yes. But why couldn’t I remember?

It was then that I felt a hand in mine, clutching it tight as if its owner was hanging on for dear life. There was a familiarity about that hand; it fit perfectly into mine. Vee’s face popped into my mind – her emerald green eyes set above a spray of adorable freckles splashed across her nose, those eternally smiling lips in between the most perfect set of dimples ever to exist, and all of it framed by intensely red curls wound so tight that no flat iron on Earth was up to the challenge. The image in my head was slightly faded though, and my need for a reminder was what forced my eyes open. Staring back at me was a face I recognized, only it had aged significantly. I could never forget those piercingly blue eyes.

“Ellie? Ellie, is that you?” I asked.

“It’s me. It’s me, Jeremiah. I’m here. Don’t try to move too much. Let me get the kids. They just went out for some fresh air. They’ve been so worried.” She was out the door in the blink of an eye. I was so confused. I wasn’t in my own bed – or my own room for that matter – Ellie looked as though she was pushing fifty, Vee was nowhere in sight, and who were these worried kids who went out for fresh air? I glanced around the room, looking for clues to help me make sense of it all. The room was painted a cheerful buttery yellow, rimmed around the top with a green and blue checkered border. Across the room was the oak bureau my parents gave me when I graduated from college...but it had shiny new handles. On top was a globe and vase full of brightly colored flowers. Next to my bed were a few mismatched chairs that didn’t appear too comfortable. It wasn’t a hospital room but it didn’t feel like home either.

I tried to pinch my face to wake myself up but my arms were just so heavy. I pinched my leg instead, expecting it to shake me out of this dream. Nothing changed. I pinched again, harder this time. But there was no jolting awake, no return to the comforts of my own bed. As I looked down and went to pinch my leg once more (after all, third time’s a charm!) I felt an internal horror as I realized that my arms weren’t my own. They were tanned and covered in gray hair; the hands were rough and calloused. They turned over and over again, and I was amazed at my ability to control these limbs that obviously did not belong to me, the singer and actor who spent his days memorizing lines, learning choreography, and rehearsing musical numbers for hours on end, not doing manual labor that left hands in this state.

As I continued to stare at these foreign hands and arms, the door flew open and in rushed a crowd of kids. They moved quickly towards me, stumbling over each other in their haste. I counted one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and a baby made ten. All of them with varying lengths of walnut brown hair, except one…a tall woman with long blonde hair was holding the baby that couldn’t have been more than a few months old. They were all bundled up in coats, hats, scarves, and gloves, which was strange since it was the middle of May. I was sure I didn’t know them but then they weren’t completely unfamiliar.

“Oh he really is awake!” said one of them.

“Thank goodness!” said another.

“It’s about time!” yelled a third.

Then the sweetest little voice I had ever heard said the most horrific thing. “We missed you Daddy.” I have never felt such terror. DADDY! DADDY? This child was calling me Daddy! But I never had children. I never wanted any. Vee and I had agreed a long time ago that given our chosen careers, having kids would be irresponsible. We decided that we would spoil all the nieces and nephews we were bound to have. I could feel my palms begin to sweat, my muscles tighten, and the butterflies all aflutter in my stomach. The room faded to black, accompanied by shouts of concern from all the people in the room. And as my brain cut off all sensory function, I was sure each one was calling me Dad.

So I Started Jogging Today.

I will pause and let you pick your jaw up off the ground...

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...

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I'm the first to admit that there are few things I wouldn't rather do in this life than go for a run. They include swimming with sharks, eating celery, and gouging my eye out with a rusty spoon. Nevertheless, today I came home from work, changed into gym shorts and sneakers, and took off down the driveway.

Let's back up for a minute. My doctor keeps telling me the only other thing to do to keep my crazy brain disease under control is to continue losing weight. I'm about 30 pounds down since February, which is a start, but only a third of my overall goal. I keep telling myself I'll get to it, and then keep finding reasons to put it off (never start something new on a Monday, too tired on Wednesday, plans on Friday, it's rainy, it's sunny, there's a hurricane...you get the idea.)

So today I just did it. I'm not crazy enough to believe that I could just go outside and jog for miles. So I decided I'd start off slow. Jog for 60 seconds, walk for 60 seconds, and repeat. I made it to the end of the driveway, which is a half mile long, in about six minutes. And while I got distracted by a couple of wild turkeys, my left foot found it's way into a pothole, rolled, and I ended up on the ground.

This ankle injury dates back to eleventh grade and a not-so-graceful collision with third base during a softball game. I spent the better part of my freshman year in college making twice-weekly trips to physical therapy. I'm told it will never be right again, and every now and then it goes out. Once I was standing still and the next thing I knew I was on the floor. My second year in grad school I learned that I had actually broken it back in high school (or somewhere along the way) and never knew.

So needless to say, I walked/jogged down the driveway. But I definitely limped the half mile back to my house. We'll see how well I can walk in the morning...

Guilty Pleasures

It's been a while since I last posted. And every time there is a lapse in my blogging, I make excuses for my absence and promise to write more. Not that it matters much; I can probably count the number of readers without taking off my shoes. Anyway, I was thinking on the way home today about the things I love, even though they're somehow wrong. And I compiled my Top 10 list of Guilty Pleasures....

#10: Foot Freedom
Speaking of taking off my shoes, barefoot is my favorite way to be. I especially love to take my shoes off while sitting at my desk at work, in church, and while driving. I am fairly confident that the last one is illegal in almost all 50 states. I don't even have a good reason as to why I'd rather not wear shoes. My feet just like to be free, okay?!

#9: Crime Drama

What IS it with all the crime dramas on TV these days being so good? And to be fair, it doesn't even have to be a current crime drama. In fact, I'm fascinated by crime in general, and just love how those television folks can make a crime happen and wrap it up in a nice little bow in 50 minutes or less. My favorites are the ones about serial killers. It's sick, right? But there's something about them...turn on an episode of Criminal Minds and I'm glued.

#8: Pickles

Basically any kind of dill pickle. But especially pickled okra. It's so good. But given my high blood pressure, I should probably lay off of them. It's tough, but when I go grocery shopping, I force myself to choose between a carton of ice cream or a jar of pickled okra. Let's just say I usually skip the freezer aisle.

#7: Office Supplies

When I first started working for my current employer, I just about lost my s-word when I learned that I was in charge of keeping the office supply closet stocked. It's kind of an obsession. So much so that once when I redeemed my $63 StaplesRewards check, the cashier looked at me, bewildered, and said, 'Oh, I guess you shop here a lot. My rewards checks aren't that big...and I work here.' What can I say? I love all things with the intention of getting you more organized. I also love pens, filing systems, date stamps, rolodexes, sharpies, notebooks, and bubble wrap. It's bad. I have no less than seven boxes upstairs in my spare room labeled 'office supplies' that are wasting away. I wonder if they're like the toys in Toy Story 3 who didn't want to go into storage because they were made to be played with. Are all my hanging files and paperclip dishes sad that they've spent the last two years in boxes?

#6: Recipes

I will collect recipes until the cows come home (which, on my farm, will be never, since there are only sheep that live here). I love feeding other people and I love experimenting in the kitchen. I buy cookbooks, scour the internet for new and exciting dishes to try, and collect the recipe cards from the swivel display in the Safeway and Walmart produce sections. The only problem is that I rarely actually get around to trying them. Something else gathering dust on the farm :(

#5: Nail Polish

I think we can all agree that I am the antithesis of a girly girl. But a few years ago I discovered that if I keep my nails painted, I chew on them a whole lot less. Which leads to healthier cuticles and less embarrassment on my part when other people see my hands. Except this has turned into an expensive habit. I can't remember the last time I bought a bottle of nail polish that cost less than $9. And I have to have something to match every outfit.....

#4: Long Showers

I swear there is a part of me that is a bleeding heart treehugger. One who believes that we are only guests on this earth and should treat it as such. I recycle when it isn't convenient, I buy new reusable shopping bags whenever I'm out and have forgotten mine, I dig recyclables out of trash cans, I spend the extra couple dollars on eggs from open-range farms, I sweat through the summer nights at my house to avoid using the A/C as much as possible. But for some reason, I take the longest showers known to man. I surprise myself when I think I've been quick and then come to find out that I've been over 20 minutes. And that's on a good day. I know that a 30-40 minute shower is a ridiculous waste of water. But there's this itty bitty part of me that says, "You know, Rebekah...water IS a renewable resource...."

#3: Split Infinitives

I am sure that every grammar teacher I have ever had would cringe to hear this. I know that they are wrong. And whenever I proofread for other people, I change them. But I love them so much that I make it a point to work them into a lot of my writing. It might also have something to do with my love affair with adverbs.

#2: Books
I try to justify my life-long obsession with books a million different ways, but the truth is simple. I love them. And I want as many of them in my life as possible. Last week, while on vacation in New York, we stopped by the local library, and it just happened that they were having a book sale. A full box of books and $11 later, I was out of there. And it really doesn't help that Borders is going out of business at the moment. Every time I drive by, that huge yellow and black "Going out of Business" banner might as well be a giant nerd magnet. I just can't help myself from going in and perusing for an hour or so and leaving each time with a full bag or two. So far my trips have ranged in damage from $24 to $65. And now I have more books than I have space for in the library or that I will ever have time to read. Guess I need to buy some more shelves...

#1: Circus Peanuts

100% disgusting. 100% delicious.

...but I digress...

Okay so it's a couple of days later and I don't have anything major to show for my efforts at getting my house in shape, but it's coming along nicely. It's not like I'm not otherwise busy. If we are being completely honest, my job is more like full-time-and-a-half. Mostly because while I am trying to get my house sorted out, I am attempting to do the same with my office, only without the lofty 40-bags-in-40-days goal.

The last couple days have been mostly focused on laundry and preparing myself to be away from home for a few days as we round up the gang from work and head to the alleged Las Vegas of the East Coast. (Atlantic City, NJ, for those of you who didn't get the reference.) It's that time of year again for the annual American Camp Association Tri-State Conference. This conference is where, six years ago, I made up my mind to change my career plans. At the time, I was in the second semester of my junior year on my way to a degree in English secondary education. English was never really what I had planned on doing (through high school I was set on either music or microbiology, but we see how well those two panned out...) but when it came time to declare a major, it just made sense. I love reading. I love writing. I love grammar. I love words. I love proofreading. It made perfect sense.

I often wonder what my parents thought when I called and told them that I, like my sister, was making a switch so late in college. I know they told me that whatever I wanted to do was fine with them. But I'm sure they also had a few omg-not-her-too moments. I had reached a point in my education degree where I realized I was almost three years in, but really hadn't learned anything about teaching. It was all about dealing with "the system" and what it required from teachers these days. I got really jaded when all my professors were telling me what I couldn't do in the classroom instead of what I could.

I had only worked at CGT for one summer when I went to my first Tri-State Conference. 2005 was the last year the conference was held in New York City and has been at the Atlantic City Convention Center ever since. It is the largest gathering of camp people...probably in the world. And when I saw thousands of people who were making a career out of amazing summers, I knew I had finally found what I was looking for. So I look forward to this conference every year..not to mention it always falls over St. Patrick's Day, which is always a good time! No green jello for me, thanks!

...but I digress.

The only thing I've rid my house of since my last post is one bag of trash that accumulated from sorting through several boxes of junk. One box of recycling is almost full and the box for the thrift store is slowly filling. It's a process, and it's no secret that I tend to move slowly. Baby steps, my friends, baby steps!

Days till Easter: 40

Number of Bags/Boxes Gone: 2

Please Don't Call A&E!

So first things first. I'm a borderline hoarder. It hasn't reached the point where there are dead animals rotting away under piles of junk in my closets or my neighbors are calling in complaints to the health department. Granted, I don't have any pets and my only real neighbors are sheep, but you get the idea. I accumulate things. That's how I like to put it. Of all the stuff in my house, I actually buy very little of it....I find that a lot comes to me as gifts, hand-me-downs, or terminal borrowing. How else was I able to fully furnish a three-bedroom farmhouse with only what I had in my two-bedroom DC suburban apartment?

Regardless, I have boxes of things I haven't touched or looked through in years. I swear there are some boxes that moved with me from Kentucky to Indiana to New York and finally to Maryland that haven't even been opened in almost four years. So it is probably safe to say that if I haven't seen or used those things in that time, I probably don't need them. Easier said than done. Because as soon as I crack open one box, I find a million reasons why I need to keep everything inside, even if I never use it.

In my defense, I come by it honestly. But don't tell my mom I said that. I also justify my behavior by the fact that I spend very little time at home, and therefore have very little time to spend unpacking and organizing. That's right, I said unpacking. I am aware that I've been living in this house for a little over two months now. I should be more embarrassed than I am to admit that I am still living out of suitcases and used the dishwasher for the first time last night. It's not like I try to hide the fact that I'm a hot mess either.

But this is going to change. One of my high school friends recently posted a link to a blog where the author spent last year's Lenten season doing what she called "40 Bags in 40 Days" (with the understanding that Lent is actually a little more than 40 days long...whatevs). Essentially, she rid her home of 40 bags of stuff, whether it was trash, recycling, regifting, or items to donate to local charity thrift stores. I was intrigued by the idea and thought to myself, "surely I too can do this!"

So here I am, it's day 4 of Lent and I have sent away one box of recyclables, have another that is almost full, and sorted through three boxes of stuff between yesterday and today. Kashmir was a huge help in getting the kitchen mostly organized yesterday and I am looking forward to this challenge. It does help that the parents are coming to visit in about a month, so I need to make some serious headway by then!

Days till Easter: 42

Number of Bags/Boxes Gone: 1

Wind in the Woods

I am once again spending the weekend working respite at the winter location of CGT and this weekend's theme is The Wizard of Oz. Quite fittingly, it's been incredibly windy since yesterday around dinner time. I haven't been paying much attention to it and it has remained only a minor annoyance.

Tonight I was walking from cabin to cabin and the sound of the wind caught me off guard. It was so loud as it blew through the trees. Yet where I stopped and stood for a minute, I couldn't feel the wind at all. It made me wonder about all the other things that move through the trees that we never see or feel.

But next time you're outside and feel a gust of wind, take a moment to listen. And marvel at how something that is made of nothing more than air can have such presence. Just another of nature's wonders...

Skoal Rings and Billfolds

OMG. We just went to see Country Strong. While the critics might not like it so much, it was one of the most real and honest movies I have seen in a long time. Aside from the heartbreakingly beautiful story it told, all I can say is HOT DAMN, I miss the south. Everything about it. The way southern people are so wonderful, the way it's okay to wear head-to-toe denim and have Dolly Parton sized hair, the accents, the hospitality, how people go out of their way to hold the door, the Nashville skyline, the honky tonks, the way they love their country music, and most of all, the way you feel when you're there.

And, since we're being honest, the country boys with their worn out jeans and scruffy beards don't hurt the situation. Not one bit.

Finding Home

I think it's safe to say that I've lived a fairly mobile life. With growing up in the military, moving every so often, and then on to seven years of higher education that involved moving in and out of a new place every year (and moving to CGT for the interim summers), I have gotten quite used to remaining unattached to my places of residence. And so the time has come again, after one year of living in Maryland, to find a new dwelling.

Now let me first say that, once again, this is one of those "life" decisions that I would prefer someone else make on my behalf. I'm not sure why, but I find it incredibly difficult to make decisions in my own life. So that results in me putting them off until it's almost too late. Back in October I made the decision to not stay where I am for another year. There were a variety of reasons for my choice, but the final straw was that the apartment complex in which I was living in was going to start charging a monthly payment processing fee. So I decided to NOT start paying to pay my rent.

I looked for a while for a place that would hold all my stuff (and I do mean ALL), was in a reasonable driving distance to both of my offices, and where I would be happy. And now, a little over two weeks since I moved into the new place - affectionately referred to as "The Farm" - I can safely say that for the first time in a long time, it feels like home.

So many people find it hard to believe. I live literally in the middle of nowhere. So much in the middle of nowhere that the two local post offices are battling it out to decide who will be delivering my mail. I live half a mile down a dead end dirt road. My closest neighbors are the sheep in the back yard. And I live there all by myself.

Now, while I don't ever see myself being able to give anyone a definitive answer as to where I am "from"....I can at least say that for now, this is home.