A Fond Farewell

I don't like to admit it but I do have hoarding tendencies. My sister would have you believe that I'm next in line for an episode of Buried Alive on A&E. It's not that bad. But I have noticed that I collect a lot of things over the years. Books, kitchen gadgets, and t-shirts.  Tonight, I am going to talk about the t-shirts.  Mostly because of the three bags getting added to the list tonight, two are boring trash in which I found nothing worth sharing. 

But as for the third bag of the day. It's is a bag chock full of t-shirts. The oldest one in the bunch appears to be from senior year of high school. It means that in this bag is ten years of marching bands, special events, travels, gifts, conferences, laughs, and most importantly, good times. Some of them are tattered and torn, others have never been worn.  But since I decided at the start of this week that I would get rid of items of clothing I haven't worn since moving to The Farm, I'm sticking to it.  Luckily I have a future brother-in-law who can make use of these shirts.  And the ones he doesn't want, we'll give away to someone who can use them!

This is potentially going to be the hardest part of this entire project.  I love my t-shirts....even the ones I never wear anymore. I need to be realistic though, as this collection that I'm giving away is approximately half of my total t-shirt ownership. I thought their importance in my life warranted an extra special send-off. So sit back, relax, and try to enjoy three minutes of your life you won't be able to get back.

(PS Thanks to my male model, Boritch Ingabingabinovovitch!) (That's not his real name.)

Days to go: 36

Bags to go: 32

The Science Fair

One of my many life accomplishments, but one I leave off my current resume, is that I placed First in the Alaska State Science Fair in the 5th grade.  My project that year was called, "How Much Vegetable do You Really Eat?" and basically was nothing more than determining what percentage (by weight) of various veggies was actually water by using the fancy new dehydrator that Mom and Dad got for Christmas that year.  I was pretty proud of that project, and would have had the opportunity to take it all the way to the national science fair if I had only been in the SIXTH grade!

But tonight, I'm here to talk about a science project of which I am not proud.  But first, let me tell you about what all was accomplished this evening.  I am very aware that the idea behind this challenge is to FILL 40 bags and get them out of your house.  However, tonight I tackled, emptied, and sorted seven bags o' junk and one box full of things that are so old they are now irrelevant, so destroyed they are no longer recognizable, and in one particular case, so rotten that it is no longer possible to determine what it once was:

As you can see, this bag contained a collection of travel mugs and such that I brought in from my car approximately eight months ago.  And I think that at one point in time, that might have been an orange in there with them.  Once I took out the travel mugs and put them to soak in bleach water, i went to throw away the bag and noticed that it weighed practically nothing.  It had rotted away so much.  Had I still been in sophomore year biology class with Coach Lange (may he rest in peace), I would have been all over identifying what kind of bacteria was growing on that gem. Not tonight.  It went straight in the garbage.

Other exciting finds tonight include what is perhaps the best valentine I ever received.  This past winter, Marisa and I got a little obsessed with the final season of One Tree Hill and the fact that Nathan Scott was missing because he was kidnapped by the Russian mob for reasons we couldn't be quite sure of.  We literally walked around asking everyone we saw, "WHERE'S NATHAN?!!?"  And then on Valentine's Day, this was  what I found: 

While I'm on the subject of holidays and cards, I found the birthday I bought but never sent to my dad last year.  I put it in the "To be Mailed" bag, which is good, since his birthday is next week....

And, my most exciting find of the night (aside from the tin of Blue Diamond wasabi & soy almonds) was this set of pens from Ken Dixon Automotive.  Ken Dixon had this brilliant idea - they had several hundred thousand of these pens made and went around to almost every business in the county and left the pens there for customers to use when signing receipts.  Just about every server at every restaurant in the county has a pocket full of them.  And for giveaway pens, they write really nicely.  The funny thing is that, apparently, when you actually GO to Ken Dixon Automotive to buy a car, they don't give the pens away for free.  

With all that emptying/sorting/organizing done this evening, I am proud to say that I have three bags of trash...

and a roasting pan full of stuff to go.  This being the first non-trash item, it is worth noting that all of the stuff seen here actually belongs at work.  So while my house is getting a clean sweep, the same might not be said for my office.....

Days to go: 38
Bags to go: 35

Step 1: Admit you Have a Problem

Since I'm all excited for my new Ikea nightstands and all that stands between me and them is a total of 40 bags of stuff getting removed from my house before September 28, I found myself extremely motivated this morning.  So much so that I lost track of time and ended up going in to work three hours later than I had planned.  Oh well.  

I've started by sorting.  I know it is no secret that i have so much STUFF.  I have no idea where it comes from.  Well, now that's a lie.  My whole life I have had a knack for accumulation. I'm one of those people who saves almost everything on the off chance that I "might" need it again some time. IT IS A PROBLEM. But no more.  If I don't have an immediate use or a legal responsibility to keep it, it's going away.  (Exceptions: books, winter clothes, shoes, extra bedding, cake pans, and holiday decorations)

Something I didn't expect to come of this challenge was all the funny, weird, and nostalgic things I would find as I sort through my life.  Luckily for you, I've decided to share the best of today's findings:

First is a desk calendar I used my last summer at CGT.  That was THREE years ago.  That means this calendar went with me to New  York after that summer, then moved to my Laurel apartment the following January, then came with me to The Farm at the end of 2010 and has been gathering dust in a tub on my bedroom floor ever since.  WUT?

In the spring of 2010 I had had enough of my long, unmanageable hair.  I convinced my sister to cut my hair for me as I'm terrified that if I go back to a hairdresser, he or she will ruin my hair like every one I've ever visited.  I am a rational person and I know that this is most likely not true, but my concerns are not unfounded.  Emily gets my hair and understands that the underneath layer is, in fact, straight. She also knows that the top layer is curled tighter than the rest of my hair, so you can't just layer it like normal hair.  That's how I ended up with haircuts like "The Diamond" (11th Grade), "The Shelf" (circa 2003), and "The Hot-Ass-Mess" (circa 2008).

Anyway. I had enough hair to donate to Locks for Love, now that they accept naturally curly hair.  So we braided it, chopped it off, and set it aside to be mailed in at a later date.  Apparently that later date has yet to arrive.  So this braid is the first item in the bag labeled "To be Mailed".

 I am a responsible adult.  I am not, however, a receipt keeper.  Something tells me, though, that I should keep this one in a safe place, just in case.  The good news is that the bottom of a bucket designed for apple-bobbing is a safe enough place that it hasn't been lost, and my car turns 4 next week.

I always go back and forth on whether or not I should save birthday/Christmas/special occasion cards.  It's not like I'm ever going to go back and read them again. But, how could I NOT keep this one?  It's from Wiam Haddad, a South African Greentopper who is the epitome of all things wonderful.  This one might even get framed for the library....

There are about a half dozen other bags started with sorting.  They include labels such as Recycle, Return to Rightful Owner, Put Away, Donate, Belongs at Work, Emily, and ?.  I hope that there are eventually several bags of trash, recycle, and donate.


By the time I left for work, I had one large bag completely full of trash.

Days to go: 39

Bags to go: 39

The Bedpan Incident

This story starts long before the actual bedpan incident.  Approximately four weeks ago I started taking horseback riding lessons at work.  I figured it was the one program I know the least about, so it was high time I learn.  A week ago today was my third lesson, and I have been riding this beautiful percheron named Bo-Vine, So-Fine (so named because of his cow-like markings), but we call him Bo for short.  Oh, and did I mention that he's the biggest horse EVER?

It was getting to the end of the lesson and we had learned how to "reverse" (did anyone else just get the Cha-Cha Slide stuck in your head...you know, "REVERSE, REVERSE...REVERSE REVERSE"?) our horses.  So our instructor had set up an obstacle course in the riding arena that included 10 posts between a set of cones, a figure eight around some barrels, "parking" in a "parking space" and then backing out, then trotting a victory lap around the arena.  

Now, back up another week to my previous lesson, when we worked a lot on my balance while trotting.  A lot of it has to do with the fact that my left ankle is significantly weaker than my right.  It goes back to a high school softball injury that never healed quite right.  So in this most recent lesson, when it came time for me to  do my victory lap, I was fairly confident that I could make it the whole lap around the arena without too much trouble.  

But I was wrong.  Bo and I were almost finished when I started to lose my  balance, regained it, but over corrected a little and just came right off and hit the ground.  From about six feet up.  I just laid there, probably yelling a mixture of obscenities and 'oh, God!'s.  After lying there a while and attempting to stand up, we called an ambulance.

I will spare you the rest of the painful details about getting strapped to the backboard, an ill-fitting collar, and a rather bumpy ride to the hospital.  Once I got into my room, initial assessments completed, et cetera, I OF COURSE had to pee. And since I had yet to be x-rayed or CT-scanned, they wouldn't let me up to go to the toilet (not that I probably could have walked at this point, anyway).  

So in comes Amber the nurse, Maria the CNA, and a bedpan.  After getting me all undressed and situated, Amber promised me that I was appropriately positioned on top of the bedpan.  SHE PROMISED.  But then I couldn't go.  It wasn't like I was bladder shy...I pee with other people around all the time.  It was because I am used to going while sitting down, not while lying flat on my back.  But Amber, being the professional she is, walked over to the sink, turned on the water, and it was like MAGIC.  

Magic that I quickly felt running up my back.  When I said something, Amber and Maria both assured me that there was nothing to worry about, that there was no urine pooling underneath me, so it was going to be fine.  Except then when I was finished and she took the bedpan away, she realized that I, in fact, had not been totally peeing into the bedpan.  

BUT AMBER, YOU PROMISED!!!  hahahahahahahahahhaah

I felt so bad, though.  And after they cleaned up the mess I'd made, they just covered me up with a gown and some blankets.  I'm not sure if it was the pain, the drugs, or just me being ridiculous, but I felt the need to tell all three people who came to take me to various x-rays and scans that I was pantsless.  

This is my life.  And this is my bruise:

Pretty sweet, huh?

The Great Debate

We've all been a part of a discussion that went something like this:

Have you seen the new __________ movie?

Yeah, but the book was better.

As usual.

In some sense of the word, it's true.  Books are generally more detailed, tell a fuller story, and give the reader more freedom to imagine the characters and events in his or her own mind.  But books aren't accompanied by musical scores, nor do they have the advantage of live performances.  Movies do.  

The point I'm trying to make is that comparing books to movies is futile, because they are so different.  It would be like saying eating at Chipotle is better than eating at the authentic Mexican restaurant.  Chipotle is, of course, inspired by Mexican food, but is a little bit of a different take on it.  It is the product of Steve Ells's creative culinary license.

In the early 20th century, there was a scientist who suggested that as a human race, we had discovered all there was to know. We had reached the end of the discovery phase of mankind. (I could go on about that for quite some time, but will save it for another day.)  While we obviously know that he was wrong, there is something to be said for the slow down in original ideas.

While I am by no means claiming to be an expert on the film industry, it does seem that the majority of movies these days are inspired by something else, whether it's a novel, a series, a comic book, or a real-life event.  And when you're in the story-telling business some of the details always get changed.  I love to tell stories, and it just so happens that I almost always have a story for every occasion.  But I will also be the first to admit that I do some embellishing from time to time.

The important thing to remember is that the details that get changed never affect the overall outcome of the story.  Let's talk Lord of the Rings.  Those of you who know me know that, given the chance, I would go live out my days in Middle Earth, barefoot and drinking tea with hobbits, chilling and talking slowly in Fangorn with the ents, and riding all over Rohan and Gondor with the Rohirrim (on Shadowfax, of course, since Gandalf would be my homeboy and lend him to me whenever I asked).

So, when the LOTR movies were released, I bet you can imagine that I was initially disappointed at the exclusion of (among other things) Tom Bombadil, the Battle for the Shire, and what could have been the most epic cliffhanger in the history of cinema.  (For those of you who DKDC about LOTR: at the end of The Two Towers book, we are left to believe that Frodo has been killed by Shelob, a giant spider, in her lair in Mordor.)  But now I am able to look at the three films as a whole and see that while they do not tell every single piece of Tolkien's story exactly as he told it, they still tell the story.  And beautifully so.

Okay, I'm trying to reel it in, since I could go on about LOTR forever, and you very well might not care, but I just have one more point to make.

Now that I can view the movies as a whole, I have come to the realization that my favorite scene from the films is something that never even happened in the books.  In The Two Towers movie, at the Battle of Helm's Deep (which, btw, is only one chapter in the book), the army of elves shows up to aid in the defense against the orcs.  I love that scene.  I love that the elves are there, without question, to fight a war that isn't theirs to fight.  I love their fancy helmets and bows.  I love that they never seem to run out of arrows.   I love that they don't think twice about losing their immortality for the greater good. That scene really makes that movie what it is.

And that, in the end, is the beauty of art. It's the realization that each genre is different.  And, as with people, differences should be celebrated and enjoyed.  The fact of the matter is that none of us would want to sit through a movie that was exactly like the book...because it would be a 72-hour film!  I've decided to stop making "better or worse" comparisons between books and movies.  Rather, it should be a question of "Was I entertained? Was it a good performance (either written or acted)? Is it thought-provoking? Does it evoke an emotional response? Would i read/watch it again?

We spend so much time complaining about how movies aren't as good as their inspiration that we fail to see that they are, in their own right, works of art.

The Shrinking Significance of the Standing Ovation

I am certain I am not the first person to think of or write about this.  I was at an event this weekend during which it seemed like we (the audience) were giving out standing ovations as easily as Halloween candy.  And, the last time I checked, the standing ovation was for someone or something of great significance.  It wasn't just something you did every time someone received an award or certificate of appreciation.  It isn't just this weekend's festivities that got me thinking about this, either.  I've been bothered by it for quite some time.

Let's go back to high school, or even middle school, band.  Only the most spectacular performances were applauded with empty seats.  I remember this happening a lot in college.  Granted, I did spend the majority of my time with music majors and attended my fair share of recitals, concerts, and shows over the course my time there.  But it was there more than ever that I felt I could decide whether or not I enjoyed the performance enough to stand and applaud at the end.  It was there that people really put their hearts and souls into what they were doing, and truly appreciated an honest response to their performances.

I feel that the almost-always-obligatory standing ovation of these days is indicative of the millennial generation.  It's practically required for anything other than the run of the mill.  There's always that awkward, "Do I stand? Do I not stand?" moment.  Because now, it isn't about whether or not you believe the awardee/performer/etc. deserves the additional honor, it's about what everyone else in the audience is doing.

And you know what I say to that?  No more! I will no longer stand when I don't believe it is deserved.  I will be okay with going against the grain.  Who's with me in my quest to restore significance to the standing ovation?

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!!!

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.

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...

I'm a Dreamer, not a Fighter...Right?

I've heard that you only really remember dreams that you have if your sleep is disrupted during them. And I've occasionally remembered dreams here and there. But recently (and now that I think about it, ever since I've been taking medicine for my crazy brain disease) I've been having super intensely vivid dreams.

One in particular involved me babysitting several canines and murdering a pet fish by refilling the jar with boiling water, all while my apartment was burning down. Weird. I know.

But I have noticed a recurring theme in a number of dreams. They all take place in different types of bars and clubs (because we know I frequent those types of locations ALL THE TIME). And each one escalates into a knock-down, drag-out honest-to-goodness bar fight. And that has transferred into an odd desire to get myself into a REAL bar fight.

I guess I'll continue being a crazy cat lady, sans cats, to avoid any criminal charges coming my way...

Why [not] Me?

I just finished watching National Treasure for the first time. It was on television, so I imagine it was not in its complete form. Regardless, I just loved it. Mostly because there's something so unexplainably thrilling about a treasure map, a dark and dilapidated cave or tunnel system, the bad guys on your heels, and the promise of a huge reward.

I can think of so many movies that follow this general plot....Indiana Jones, The Goonies, Pirates of the Caribbean, just to name a few. And I only have one question. How come I never get to go on a treasure hunt, following clues, and solving puzzles?

Taking Flight

Last week I found myself dropping off and picking up people at Reagan National Airport two days in a row. I will leave out the part where I get lost both times, as per usual, and end up going the extra long way. I had never been to Reagan before last Tuesday. And the really cool thing about Reagan is that when you drive in on 95, the planes have to fly directly above you in order to land and take off. They come SO CLOSE. It kinda feels like a movie or something.

Every time I fly, I feel like a little kid on Christmas as soon as the plane lifts off the ground. There is something so unreal about it. If you told people 100 years ago that by the end of the century, air would be the primary form of mass, long-distance travel, they would think you were outside your mind. So I never cease to be amazed at the complete surreality (is that a word?) of taking flight.

And then I think about my dad. He's a pilot. He gets to fly every day. And while I am aware that airplanes are different from his Army helicopters, I always wonder if pilots feel the same every time they take off. Or if they realize just how cool their jobs are. Not everyone gets to defy the laws of gravity for a living.

Every time I see a plane in the sky, I start to wonder who is on it, where they're going, and why they're going there. And if I'm on the plane, I wonder the same things, but more. I like to make up life stories about my cabin-mates and decide whether they're leaving or coming home, what they do for a living, and sometimes I develop these epic stories about how there are people on the plane who are long lost best friends and bump into each other in line for the lavatory.

Cause the world is funny that way. It brings people together and pulls them apart a million and a half times a day. You pass another car on the highway. For all you know, the driver of that car could end up being the president of the USA in a couple decades. You hold a door open for someone at the grocery store, who's to say that he or she isn't going to be your boss at the job you start next year? The person you sit next to on the plane, you may never see again. But then you never know.

So we go about our daily lives, generally keeping to ourselves, and waiting for the world to send us crashing into our next exciting discovery. And in the meantime, I'll keep watching the planes.

Up to my Old Tricks

One of my earliest posts tells the tale of how I had a full on conversation with a park ranger in the middle of the night and have no recollection of the events. So it's no secret that I do funny things in my sleep.

Last night, Kashmir was driving me and Micah back from dinner. We were in my car, but Kashmir likes to drive because otherwise she gets really bad carsick. And it's also a commonly known fact that I generally prefer to be chaufferred around than to drive myself. I am also partial to the backseat.

On the drive home I apparently fell into a deep enough sleep that I started having some sort of dream. Kashmir tells me that out of the blue, I started giggling, which progressed into snorting, and then petered out into nothing. Kashmir also tells me that she had to slow down because both she and Micah were in tears laughing at my sleep laughter.

And then when we got back, the conversation went something like this:

Kashmir: Bekah!

Me: WHAT?!

Kashmir: Wake up!

Me: THE STRAWBERRIES GO IN THE MIDDLE!

Heaven only knows.....

Umm...GROSS!

So over the 4th of July weekend we took a little road trip up to New York to see the parents. We being me, Emily, and a half dozen people from CGT. On Sunday we went on a boat tour of the St. Lawrence Seaway. I made the conscious decision not to wear sunscreen since I have a wedding in about a month and had been totally rocking the farmer's tan. So it needed a little evening out.

And even out it did. I got a pretty intense burn. So much so that this past weekend, my skin bubbled and blistered and I had to take a 30-minute shower just to scrub it all off. But I couldn't get it all and it was pretty nasty.

And what I'm about to tell you makes Kashmir a real pal. I told her I needed an awkward favor and she immediately agreed before I even told her what it was. When I informed her that I needed her to help me peel the extra dead skin, she hopped right to it. That, my friends, is a true friend.

Relief

So, my biggest concern with being a temporary vegetarian was whether or not I would still enjoy Chipotle as much as I always have. And today I learned that my fears were unfounded. The veggie bowl was just as delicious, AND the guacamole was free. So this just might be do-able. :)

Just Call me Voldemort

I started a new blog this weekend. It's all about my sister and how everything she touches turns to ridiculosity. For real. I did this despite the fact that I've just recently got into a groove of blogging here on a relatively regular basis. Although it's only been up and running for a little less than 24 hours, it's received pretty positive feedback so far. I know a lot of our friends have been waiting for it for years.

Anyway, since I've put a lot of time and thought into this blog and then went and started another one altogether, I'm beginning to understand how dear old Tom Riddle must have felt when he started splitting his soul and making horcruxes. Just not necessarily to such an extreme.