The Misadventures of a Modern Mugwump

New Location

2011-11-07T15:27:00.001-06:00

Hello friends!

My blog has relocated to a more permanent and all-inclusive location at katemuehe.com/blog.

Update your feeds and bookmarks!

I will start posting from the new location, but I will try to link from here through the end of the year.

Adventures in Unemployment: Day 9-- The Day of the Closets and a Meltdown

2011-11-02T09:07:00.003-05:00

"No storage space? Too many sweaters? No idea where to put all your stuff?
That's okay! Throw yourself a big ol' tantrum!"

Yes, I really did. I threw a giant, lie on the floor and cry like a child tantrum. Over sweaters. And towels. And storage shelves.

It was ridiculous, and I even knew that at the time, but it felt so good to just flip shit for 30 minutes. It was like a big sigh.

Now, obviously, a tantrum over storage is a symptom, not the sickness. The sickness is likely a tidge of loneliness all trapped up in my house, a bit of fear about unemployment, and some seriousness nervousness about this upcoming job interview. One of the less-lovely things about unemployment, for me, is the utter lack of structure. There is no schedule, there are only a limited number of to-dos, there is a lot of time spent doing the same darn things. Harumph.

Luckily, I survived my meltdown and managed to not try and force anyone into the Crazy Car with me. I bought some under-the-bed storage. Now there are sweaters in them. Easy fix.

While I was perusing blogs last night, I read this gem from Nicole is Better, in a post about running her first half-marathon:

Time moves just as quickly whether you’re doing what you want to do or not. The days, weeks, months, and maybe even years that are separating you from your goal are going to come and go no matter what, so who cares if you’re going to be 25 or 35 or 45 or whatever by the time you graduate from school or switch careers or complete yoga teacher training? You’re going to hit that age anyway, regardless of whether you pursue your dreams, so you might as well just fucking go for it.

Well, that is precisely what I needed to hear. This morning is better. Much better.

Onward!

Adventures in Unemployment: Day 8-- Seeing the Personal Trainer OR Death by a Tiny Latina in Gym Shorts

2011-10-31T18:49:00.001-05:00

So, I belong to Lifetime Fitness and even though I really didn't want to like Lifetime because they are fancy schmancy, the truth is I really like my gym. Like, really really.

One of the great things about Lifetime is that you earn these reward bucks (LTBucks) for being a member for so long, referring a new member, etc. And you can redeem these for various products or services at the gym. I had recently earned 100 LTBucks and since I have been nearly sedentary since running the marathon, I decided to whip myself back into shape by using my reward to see a personal trainer.

And so today I met a 5'2", 98 pound Latina and she kicked my ass all over the gym. We lifted, and pushed up, and lunged, and lifted again, and then twisted and stepped and on and on and on... ugh. 50 minutes later I hardly had the strength to turn the car key. Her favorite phrases were "Oh yeah, you're gonna be sore," "It's okay if you hate me, but you're gonna look good doin' it," and "Okay, do that whole circuit again."

My favorite part is that we didn't do very many things that were a lot of additional weights. Some ladies, like myself, are built with shoulders and rib cages that were obviously designed for men. The last thing I want to do is add a bunch of bulky muscle to my linebacker shoulders. And in case you haven't seen a marathoners thighs before, I can attest that those need no additional bulk either.

So, of course, I am signed up to see her again next week. And I am sure it will be 50 more minutes of torture. I am just hoping next week, if I sneeze in the shower, my abs don't seize up in a fit of pain. One can hope.

Adventures in Unemployment: Days 3 & 4-- Also Known as "How I Am (Kinda) Failing at Being Unemployed"

2011-10-27T22:24:00.000-05:00

To be fair, I am not failing at being unemployed, in as much as I am still not going to a job in which I exchange hard work, talent, and the occasional joke for monetary compensation and health insurance.

Let's start with the things I have done right in unemployment:

I do make my bed every day. I do the dishes every day. I have contributed to the cleanliness of my apartment every day. These are mostly symptoms of the fact that I am spending a lot of time in my apartment every day. Spend 14 waking hours in your home and it is easy to spare 40 minutes to make the bed, do the dishes, and sweep the bathroom.

I have also managed to go outside every day, between errands and appointments that have beckoned me to leave the house. These are little blessings in disguise and really break up my day.

Dance parties every day? That's a given. That's what I do in my normal life, who are we kidding.

Things I have done less right:

I think it is physically impossible to actually sleep for 8 hours a night unless I have the flu. The only way this is likely to happen is if I drug myself, and I think that taking drugs while I hang at home by myself with my cat with no job is not a very good idea. Plus, I can't afford gratuitous drugs.

I have made some progress on looking for work, but 90 minutes is a pretty long time. The goal for the weekend/next week? Research the department of the U that has offered to interview me. Read everything they ever wrote. Brand myself as the perfect poster child for their work.

I haven't gotten a library card, volunteered, taken a class, or gone to the museum. Perhaps my unemployment list was ambitious? I argue (with) myself, that I still have time. My only hope on the horizon is an interview that happens next Friday. That gives me all week next week. There's time.

Where I really feel like a failure is in the kitchen. I promised to make homemade yogurt, but I don't have a kitchen thermometer or milk. I promised to make bread, but I am daunted/am missing half the dry ingredients necessary.

So, I thought I would start a little simpler. Get 'back on the bike' with some familiar recipes. I was thinking chocolate chip cookies, but I also bought a cake mix and ready-to-spread frosting.

So, when I went to make chocolate chip cookies, I discovered I had no brown sugar and no baking powder. Pantry fail. But, I wasn't too discouraged because I had that cake mix and I bought some super cute sprinkles. Everyone loves cupcakes with sprinkles.

And guess what? Cupcakes require vegetable oil. Guess what I don't have?

Total kitchen fail.

I managed to make grilled cheese and tomato soup. The cheese was pre-sliced and the soup came from a can. I still burnt the bread when I ignored the sandwich in the pan for too long.

Well, here's hoping I don't starve on Day 5.

Adventures in Unemployment: Day 2- A Day of Freedom!

2011-10-26T09:47:00.000-05:00

On Day 2 I had an 8 AM doctor's appointment re: the broken leg in Bloomington. Obviously scheduled when I thought I would need to go to work right after the appointment. Oh well, this was the perfect thrust into the "showered and functioning" rule.

The Broken Leg Update: The current x-ray showed some "apparent feathering of the bone" which looks like the edge of a feather, but instead of being on the outside of the bone like you might expect, it is feathering into the middle of the bone.* Really odd looking. Anyhow, the doctor said we are "so lucky" we caught it early. It could have actually fractured much more severely, I guess. To be fair, I didn't really feel all that lucky when I was sobbing in my boyfriend's car on the way to the ER where they punctured my leg with a needle the size of a shower rod. But that's just me.

The good news? No more crutches! Sweet freedom! Now just 4-6 weeks of PT, maybe an MRI since there could be some soft tissue damage (kids, running a marathon is bad for your health. But you should do it anyway). They are going to do a running evaluation in 4 weeks to see if I am ready to run ~~miles~~ mile on the open ~~road~~ treadmill. In the meantime, I can swim and bike in the controlled environment of the gym. Thank goodness, because going from marathon training to not working out at all is brutal.

Other notable activities from Day 2 include: visiting Grandma for a few hours while she house-sits for my parents, a grocery shopping trip, learning to saute carnival squash, and some red wine.

Another good day.

*Ha! I Googled 'feathering bone' and found it is common in the legs and hooves of horses. Awesome.

Adventures in Unemployment: Day 1- The "Gimme" Day

2011-10-26T09:26:00.000-05:00

Day 1 of unemployment was supposed to be a "gimme" day-- the one day I allowed myself to wallow and feel sorry for myself, watch TV, hang out in my sweats.

Turns out, that didn't really happen.

I ended up deep cleaning the kitchen and bathroom, filing for unemployment insurance (Reason #2673 paying taxes rocks), researching some jobs to apply for, and some other odds'n'ends around the house. I was busy.

To be fair, I did watch the entire Today Show, and even attempted to dabble through daytime TV but there is only so much Judge Judy and Maury Povich one person can take. And for me, that limit is zero.

The funniest thing probably, is that Monday was the only day that the "Rules of Unemployment" were lifted. One of my rules is: Awake, functioning and showered by 8AM. Every day. No matter what. Well, Monday I finally hit the shower at around 4:45 and during that time someone from the U of M called to offer me a job interview! Can't believe I missed that call... We did end up getting connected and-- brace yourself-- I have a job interview on November 4. Excellent.

Overall, I loved Day 1 of unemployment more than any broke, jobless, 20-something has a right to. It doesn't negate that I am really excited to go back to work soon and contribute to good projects, but my mental health may be improving after a break.

Or maybe it was because I had an entire pot of coffee in the morning...

Adventures in Unemployment

2011-10-26T09:13:00.001-05:00

Ha! I said I would blog everyday of unemployment... and here it is, Day 3 and not a peep out of me... ooops.

This post is a pre-unemployment list of the things I want to do while I am unemployed. The best advice I got about unemployment was to enjoy the time off, because sometimes we forget to see the blessings in the hardships we face, and to stay busy! Stay busy for your own sanity and stay busy because when I (inevitably, right?) go back to work, I will be remorseful if I wasted the opportunity to do some fun things and get some things accomplished.

So, first I made a list of things I want to do, in general:

1. Make homemade yogurt.
Thanks to our Iowegian friends for giving me the skinny on how to successfully make my own yogurt. I am pretty excited to try this out!

2. Homemade bread.
So many people I know make their own bread, and yet every time I look online for a recipe I get totally daunted. Also, how do you keep a giant lump of dough away from a very curious cat while it rises? I can just imagine all the floury cat prints... My parents have a breadmaker in their basement. Maybe that will be the route to homemade bread I take.

3. Crochet slippers.
I crocheted one. Not sure how I feel about it. So I made a scarf instead. Now I have a blister from crocheting. I am not sure how much leverage this little goal is going to get.

4. Open Courseware.
There are a bunch of schools (Yale, MIT, Johns Hopkins, etc.) that offer open courseware. There is no credit, no classroom, no assignments, no grades. But you do get to see the lectures and sometimes read the course material online, sort of as if you were taking the class. I totally love to learn and this is right up my alley.

5. Design and order Christmas cards.
Done! And they are darling, I think.

6. Paintings.
I have several requests for paintings-- thanks, friends, for liking my stuff!

7. Free museums.
I love a good museum. I even sometimes love a mediocre museum. In the Cities, the Minneapolis Institute of Arts is free every day (yay! art as a public good! love love love), the Walker Art Center is free on Thursday nights, and there are a handful of museums that are free or only like $2 admission. Love.

Unfortunately, lots of places are only open during business hours and then the weekends are filled with sticky-fingered children and women (poorly) driving strollers into my shins or the backs of my knees. It might be very nice and relaxing to take in a museum on a Tuesday afternoon, you know?

8. Actually sleep 7-10 hours per night.
Who can remember the last time they got that much sleep for, say, 3 days in a row? Other than times I have been sick (in which I slept around 19 hours a day), I don't know that I have gotten a good 8 hour night's sleep in a long time. I look forward to meeting with you, deep sleep and REM cycle. I hear you guys are wonderful.

9. Volunteer.
Having just moved to my community, I have been actually wanting to find a volunteer opportunity for a while. Now is the perfect time to put some more effort into finding a place that can use me.

10. Get a library card.
Can you believe I don't have a library card in my county? And I drive by TWO public libraries all the time. Ridiculous.

In addition to some of the bigger things I want to do, I am also trying to take this opportunity to start some good habits. So there is a list of things to do every day.

1. Make the bed.
My dad's cousin always had the best excuse for not making the bed: "It was so comfortable when I got out of bed, why would I want to mess that all up by making it?!"

2. Do all the dishes.
One of my favorite household tasks to neglect. Well, I am sick of running out of forks.

3. Spend no less than 90 minutes doing something that contributes to securing employment.
This isn't vacation, after all.

4. One-woman dance party.
What's better than grooving any way you want, to any music you want? Nothing.

5. Spend no less than 20 minutes contributing to the organization and cleanliness of the house. Sweep, dust, rearrange, whatever.
I love to make a mess and then just leave it. My house is a petri dish of unfinished projects. Even cleaning projects get halted before they are done. Just ask my why my vacuum has been in the dining room for 2 days.

6. Go outside.
I love my apartment, I really do, but if I don't go outside I will go crazy. Even if I just hobble down the street and back in, I am going outside every day.

Okay everyone, wish me luck. Luck that this is not a very long stretch of unemployment and luck that I survive it with all my mental faculties in tact.

Heated Seats: A Primer

2011-10-20T09:34:00.000-05:00

Pack up your swimsuits. Roll up the beach towels. Lose the sunscreen behind the seat of the car. It's about to be winter. Or, at the very least, we are well-seated in a chilled, blustery fall.*

The one feature of the new car that I can find is the heated seat dial. Heated seats?! Heated seats, friends. The dial seems pretty self-explanatory. It has numbers from 0 to 5, 0 presumably (and correctly) being no heat. And then each number is a little warmer than the one before, until you get to 5, which in my world seems that it would be bliss. The warmer, the better.

It is not so.

The dial is quite misleading. Today I tested it out, and I have assessed what each number really stands for:

0: No heat. Great for the summer.**
1: Still not really any heat. Wouldn't thaw a rump roast.
2: Things are getting good. Lightly toasted buns. Perfect.
3: Oooh, that's hot. Hot hot, actually. Uh, I don't really like this. Too hot.
4: Oh dear god, BURNING! Too hot! Turn it off! Turn it off!!
5: [Right, you think after my experience at level 4 I turned it up to level 5?! Who do you think I am?]

If you love your butt, you will oscillate between a 2 and 3. Never higher.

* I have loved the word blustery forever. From the Winnie the Pooh film Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day. One of the best children's movies ever.
** Ask me about the time I accidentally turned on heated seats in the summer and thought I was dying of meningitis.

Stuck in the Slow Lane

2011-10-13T09:20:00.001-05:00

Last week, I upgraded automobiles. Gone is the 1999 Saturn, affectionately known as the Plastik Vunderkar (let me someday tell you about selling cars on Craigslist. Holy cow). In is a 2004 Jetta, the Green Machine.

Having a car that runs ~~a bit better~~ like an actual car and not like a ~~Barbie corvette~~ Matchbox car made me think I would soon be experiencing the wide open spaces of the crowded city avenues like this:

After all, this car was built for the autobahn!

However, this new-to-me car has a lot more bells and whistles. More accurately: things most modern drivers think everyone has, but in fact, everyone did not. For example: a sun roof, power locks with the little hand held remote so I can "meep meep" my car from 20 feet away, power windows, an automatic transmission. In addition to the new things, I am still working on finding all the standard things. It took me 3 minutes to figure out how to turn the lights on. We had a light drizzle here the other day and I had my windshield wipers on "Hyperspeed Go-Go-Gadget NO RAINDROPS EVER" mode because I could not get them to slow down. A check engine light came on for an issue not even remotely related to the engine. Yesterday I accidently hit the panic button in my pocket while ~~walking~~ crutching loudly away from the car, scaring the dickens right out of a handful of delightful senior ladies out for a walk.

Today, the whole drive in to work, the "door ajar" light was illuminated, and I figured this was just like the check engine light. So it says the door is ajar, I thought, but I can see that no doors are, in fact, ajar. What else could it be? Is it because there is condensation on the back window? I'll turn on the defroster. Wait. How do I do that? Oh, here. Good. Nope, some non-door is still not ajar. Hmmm.

After a string of button mashing operations that included opening and closing the windows and sunroof, unlocking and relocking all the doors, turning on the hazards and then turning them off, it dawned on me. Yesterday, when I hit the panic button, I probably also hit the trunk release button!

When I got to the parking lot, that truth was confirmed. Luckily, the trunk requires some strength to actually open even once the latch has been released, so I wasn't that idiot who drove all the way to work with their trunk all gaping.

Still, I have downgraded my expectations of the new-car-driving experience. Not because the car isn't great, but because it is likely smarter than me. This is a more accurate visual representation of my life on the autobahn:

It Tolls for Thee

2011-10-07T09:30:00.000-05:00

Sorry that every post is about the marathon... that's probably getting old for you, right? But I just keep processing things and I forgot to tell you about probably my favorite part of the race:

The marathon starts near the Metrodome in Downtown Minneapolis and cuts through the heart of a skyscraper district before turning down Hennepin towards the Chain of Lakes and South Minneapolis. At the very edge of Downtown is a big, beautiful basilica. The Basilica of Saint Mary, to be precise.

As we head through downtown, the air is cold, the pack of runners nearly silent as the anticipation and silliness of the start wears off and we begin to truly consider the monumental task ahead of us. The only sound is the gentle tap tap tap tap tap of running shoes on pavement and the muffled sound of motivational playlists in runners' ears.

Approaching the basilica, between Miles 1 and 2, the air fills with a beautiful noise-- the church bells! The bells are ringing for the runners! The congregation-- what must have been hundreds of people-- are standing on the beautiful stone steps praying and waving out to the crowd of marathoners.

I am not religious in the "capital R" sense, but that moment filled me with a certain faith, and a faith in what I think religion should be about-- supporting our community, supporting all mankind in every earnest endeavor. Being hopeful for one another, friend and stranger alike. It was emotional then; it's emotional now.

It also reminded me of a poem I once heard at an event to raise awareness about bullying and teen suicide last year. The poem, For Whom The Bell Tolls (No Man is an Island) by John Donne, beautifully reminds me how connected we all are.

No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manor of thine own

Or of thine friend's were.

Each man's death diminishes me,

For I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee.

Why Run a Marathon

2011-10-06T11:12:00.000-05:00

The number one question people ask is "Why would you want to run a marathon?"

And there isn't an easy answer. Or maybe, more appropriately, it's that there isn't just one answer.

Because it's there. And I can. Rules are meant to be broken; challenges are meant to be met and overcome. I ran it because it's there and it's scary and it's hard to do. And because something greater than my feet and my legs and my cardiovascular system-- something else in me-- said "I can."

Because 100 voices in my lifetime said "you can't" and 101 voices said "you can." We often forget how influential our words can be, or how an individual might carry each phrase or lesson with them for a long time. Sometimes, we spend the most time listened to our own voice telling us we can't do something because we won't be the best at it.

But I was absolutely blessed to grow up with a family that encouraged all of my craziest ideas. A big sister that was not embarrassed to tell me she was proud of me. A mom who, by example, taught her daughters to be strong women, to be leaders, to stand up for themselves and for what is right, to have strong voices. A dad who never waivered in his pride in his girls, who encouraged sportsmanship and leadership, who continues to be one of the best examples of citizenship in my life, and who reminds me often to never take life or myself too seriously. And I can't forget an extended family that, while small in size, is filled to the brim with support and well-wishes for every endeavor and a hearty helping of 'we-knew-you-could's after each success.

Because I can control the outcome. One of the greatest lessons I have learned in my young adult life, post-graduate school, is that there are a lot of things that happen to me and around me (or without me) that I cannot control. Talk about frustrating. Ever since the days of returning from a friend's house crying, stomping around because 'they wouldn't play the way I wanted!' I have desired to set the rules. And none too democratically, in most cases.

Turns out, at 25 years old, there are fewer and fewer situations where you can take all your toys and go home (a phrase my family still uses today!). Having an often unsteady and uncertain job situation, losing people who I love and carry an important part of my history, and experiencing first-hand how unfair a tornado in a community in crisis feels, I spent many weeks in the last year feeling caught up in a chaos where I did not and could not set the rules.

So I took all my toys... and went to the gym. And I set the training schedule and nutrition rules. And I said "No, I have to run tonight." And I didn't let anything confuse the final goal or knock me (too far) off course. And at the end of even the most awful days, I controlled the distance, the tempo, the playlist. I owned the successes and I owned the failures along the way. And thus, on October 2, 2011, I owned the ultimate success. I owned that finish.

Because I said I would. Call it stubborn. Call it tenacious. Call it foolish. No matter the name, I said I would run a marathon, and dammit, I ran a marathon. And you know what? I bet I can do anything.

That's why I ran a marathon.

Q: What's Less Fun Than Running a Marathon?

2011-10-04T12:31:00.001-05:00

A: Going to the Emergency Room because of it.

No worries, though friends. Turns out to just be a fracture. There was some concern it could be Compartment Syndrome, a 'limb and life threatening injury,' but it's just your run-of-the-mill stress fracture.

If any medical professional tells you they are going to do a 'striker' test for compartment syndrome, put your big girl/boy panties on. That's a doozy.

The First 24 Hours

2011-10-03T17:11:00.000-05:00

There is a more insightful blog post about completing my first marathon a-brewin'. But considering my current physical and mental state, you get this instead.

If you follow me on Facebook and Twitter, you have seen a gazillion posts on the same topic. But if you don't (you should)...

I finished my first marathon yesterday!

You should do a victory dance for me, because I can hardly move.

Why can I hardly move, you ask?
1. Two blisters the size of house cats and 3 more the size of grapefruits.
2. All the skin on my feet is inexplicably peeling off.
3. General muscle soreness from my belly-button down as well as entirely up my spine.
4. A suspected stress fracture. Or heinous heinous shin splints. To be physician confirmed tomorrow.

Here are my observations from the first 24 hours, post-marathon:

1. I am STARVING but preparing food feels like so much work that I lose interest. And, once I do finally make something, I can eat about 4 ounces of food at a time and then I am stuffed. For example, I only ate 3 spoonfuls of Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough ice cream before putting it back. 3 spoonfuls?! Unheard of.

2. Waking up every 2 hours throughout the night to stretch and walk is annoying, but probably not as annoying as being frozen in my bed would have been.

3. I don't think I will ever feel hydrated again. Ever.

4. Blister-specific Band-Aids are all entirely too small. Dear Johnson + Johnson, the blister has at least doubled the size of my toe. Please make an appropriate bandage. xoxo, Katie

5. The size of a Target store grows exponentially in relation to the amount of pain you are in.

6. IcyHot (and I have complained about this before): not even remotely icy enough to soothe the pain, too damn hot to relax anything. Too. Damn. Hot.

7. Also, on the topic of IcyHot, my whole house smells like it. Every single surface. It's like a mix of old people and toothpaste. Yuck.

8. I thought this day would be ultra-nice and relaxing, and it has been to a point. But it has also been like being at home sick, except I feel well enough to do things, but I can't really physically do them due to the aforementioned menagerie of maladies.

9. The internet is a limited place. And there is only so much you can do before you get bored. However, the one thing that never gets boring? Watching this: http://www.mtecresults.com/runner/videoResults?rid=27125&race=507

Click that link. Click it. Click it click it click it click it. Click. IT. So cool.

10. One last complaint: Ice packs take a LIFETIME to get frozen in the freezer... but about 20 minutes to get warm on my leg. One human could not possibly own an adequate number.

On a more serious note, thanks to my family and friends who supported me at the race, through a Facebook post, an email, a Tweet, or a in text. You. Are. Awesome! Lotsa lotsa love to you!

An Open Letter to An Open-Minded Manager

2011-09-27T16:34:00.001-05:00

{As some of you may or may not know, I have been working as a full-time temporary employee for the last 16 months (read: no vacation, no sick time, no employer-sponsored health or dental coverage, no contribution to a retirement plan, no security). While I love what I do, passion is not enough to pay student loans and eat.

In the next few weeks, as the grant monies that fund my position slowly get spent away, I will be let go. I have been searching and applying for new work with an increased fervor in the last month, but with little results. It's a tough market out there, folks.

I have not been offered a position or hired yet, but someday someone will call. This is a letter to that someone who takes a chance and says "We would be delighted if you would join our team."}

Dear Hiring Manager,

Congratulations, today you have made an excellent decision for the progress of your organization! Today, you took a chance and you hired me. And I promise to make that a decision you can be happy with for a very long time.

You recognized that my varied interests and experiences translate into a fresh and adaptable young employee. You saw that I can (and do!) become passionate about everything I do, and you have offered me an environment that encourages my creativity and gently guides my growth. As much as I tried to remain calm and graceful in the interview, my chattiness certainly overshadowed whatever poise I had intended to present to you. Thank you for recognizing that as a strength of a strong and open communicator who loves nothing more than to share information in a novel way, to give large and engaging presentations, to meet with colleagues or stakeholders and have honest and meaningful discussion.

I cannot express to you my excitement to join your team. The road from graduate school to a professional career has been a bit tumultuous over the last couple of years. Turns out, the years that are "great to be a student" really stink to be a recent graduate... but I am excited to be released of the burden that uncertainty can cause so that I can really focus on my work. I am excited to create quality work for this organization and develop tools and products that can be shared so that others may learn from what we do. I am excited to learn from others; in the workplace, in the industry, in the community. I am excited to be a positive force in my workplace-- someone who thinks and speaks highly of others, someone who expresses gratitude to those around me, and someone who occasionally tells a lively and engaging story or two! I am excited that you and your organization have committed to me and my professional growth. I intend to commit to this organization and this work in the same way.

I am dedicated to this position and this organization.

I am motivated to create positive change in my community and that will be reflected in any work I do.

I am ready to face each challenge with a balance of professionalism, creativity, and enthusiasm that cannot be learned in any program-- it is unique to me.

I may never know what it was about my application or my interview that made you take a second look or made you say, "Let's give her a call." All I know is that on the first day that I enter the office, I am going to bring with me a passion and work ethic that makes you feel certain you have made the right choice. And a plant; I am going to bring with me a plant.

Thank you, again, for the opportunity.

Sincerely,

Katie

P.S. See you Monday!

Analytically Speaking

2011-09-23T14:06:00.001-05:00

I would love to say I use Google Analytics to maximize my readers' experience of my blog.

I don't.

I basically use it to spy on you. Where do you live? What are you reading? How did you get here?

My favorite is to see what term people searched for to end up at my blog. Below are some of the stranger ones:

scientific law (Yes, the words written in this blog are scientific law. Or, they should be.)
what is fartlekking (The seventh circle of Hell.)
atheist cat (What.)
drugging your cat (I didn't really drug him. I hope this person finds the, uh, advice they were looking for...)
fartlekking (The seventh circle of Hell.)
girl panics on febreeze commercial (Well, a giant-ass fish swims through a living room. You would panic too)
mugwump cat (Ha! He needs his own blog. [Right now the Boyfriend is groaning and thinking "Oh my god, she's going to start a blog from her cat's perspective." No I'm not, because imagining Boyfriend thinking that was enough satisfaction!])
what's a fartlek (The seventh circle of Hell.)
"Every morning in Africa a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must move faster than the lion or it will not survive. Everyone morning in Africa a lion wakes up and knows it must be faster than the slowest gazelle or it will starve. It does not matter if you are the lion or the gazelle. When the sun comes up, you better be moving." (Love this quote. And now love whomever searched for it. Love love love.)
turtleneck swimsuit (What?)
Bob Costas sauna (WHAT?! Gross.)
don't feed the grad students (no truer advice has ever been spoken)
"convention of international sale of goods" undersized shrimp (Ha! Reason #238 dating a lawyer brings me joy. Also, isn't the very nature of shrimp that they are 'undersized'?)
grad school makes you fat (Who are you calling fat, you big cow?!)
national escargot day (I am assuming this comes from an Obscure Holidays post...)
activate mugwump (Ha! Read this as "Activate: Mugwump!" and it just has a certain superhero je ne sais quoi about it. Love)
Bob Costas is a punk (that's more like it)
Border collie hypersensitve (Googler, you get it.)
Bubble bath wine (You definitely get it).
funny sentence with mugwump in it (Hmm, I don't think I have any of those. But I have something better! A bunch of funny sentence written by a Mugwump! Right? Right?!)
modern battle pants (What?) (I want some.)
obscure holiday for "women" (Why put women in quotes? Couldn't it just be 'obscure holiday for women'? Googler must have been a "man.")
sushi touched my soul (What.)
uzbekistan got skipped (I hate when that happens.)
ways to explain parking in a snow emergency (I'll explain it now: Everyone parks like an idiot. You can too! Yay!)

So. Darn. Funny. Thanks, Googlers!

I Don't Even Know What 'Hyponatremia' Is, but I Do Not Want It

2011-09-07T11:04:00.001-05:00

Part of being a well-prepared marathoner is the physical training. Up the hill. Down the hill. 8 miles. 10 miles. A half marathon. 16 miles. Wind. Rain. Beating sun. You gotta get used to all of that. Plus, learn to love blisters.

The other part of being a well-prepared marathoner is to know as much as possible about race day. What time do I need to be at the start? Where can I park? How many racers are there? When can I expect to see a water stop? How many satellite bathrooms are available and where? And most importantly (I think): what do I do if I get into trouble?

It is no secret that running a marathon is a bit stressful on one's body and the need for some medical attention on race day is common. In order to prepare myself, today I read Twin Cities in Motion's medical procedures for the marathon.

I found most of the information to be super helpful. For one, I love a good color-coded system that tells me how the weather conditions may affect runners. Also, it is good to know that there are over 300 medical staff and they are wearing orange. This is important.

But some of the information, I found a little more amusing. Or maybe ironic? I am not sure. Below, in the bolded text you can read the policy and in the red italicized text you can read my thoughts on that policy.

"Runners who are ill should not start."
You cannot convince me that there is a single person who signed up for a marathon that is even close to being in their right mind. All these runners are 'ill.'

This next part is in reference to their Impaired Runner Policy.

To be allowed to continue the race, a runner must:

a) be able to proceed in a straight path toward the finish line;
This would be easier to do if the race was a straight path towards the finish instead of weaving all over the Cities to add up to an obscene number of miles. I know the distance between Minneapolis and Saint Paul is not 26.2 miles...
b) be able to explain who they are, where they are on the course, and what they are doing;
In the best of health and clarity of mind, I would probably be able to tell you who I am. But in the middle of a marathon there is no way I am going to know why I am on that course or what I am doing. I am going to think I have lost my mind a long time before any medical professional suspects it. I might already be thinking I have lost my mind.
c) look clinically fit to proceed with good skin color and body appearance
d) be able to maintain a reasonable running posture.
Both (c) and (d) assume you started the race with these things... which just might not be totally true for all of us.

Downed runner procedures:

When a runner goes down during or immediately after the race, the medical team will assess for cardiac arrest, exertional heat stroke, hyponatremia, insulin shock, and exercise associated collapse; begin first aid; and transfer.
Please also assess me for the common medical ailment "Worn the eff out."

The medical response plan includes advanced life support ambulances and bike teams with automatic defibrillators.
'Advanced life support?!' Dear god.

All runners are encouraged to provide family and friends with their race number in case of a medical emergency.

When my race number is assigned, you will likely be able to find it here, in some sort of email with paragraphs upon paragraphs of emergency information, as well as posted to social media sites such as Facebook and Twitter. I just want to have all my bases covered. In case something happens. Which it won't.

Honestly, I am not too worried-- I feel healthy, I know my limits and if I get overwhelmed during the race there is no harm in leaving the course. A finisher's medal is not worth losing my health or knee joints. And it's comforting to know all this effort is going in to making sure every racer that day has the healthiest marathon possible.

A Reflection on 72 Hours of Wilderness

2011-09-02T11:18:00.000-05:00

I have been attempting to compose, organize, and draft my thoughts on my recent trip to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness (BWCA) for several days now, but it is much harder than I thought. Perhaps, much like the photos I captured while there, my storytelling can't really do that part of the world the justice it deserves.

I thought about giving you the play by play-- detailing each lake, each portage, each mosquito-infested campsite, and relaying the horrors that are northwoods latrines.

But it still didn't seem big enough.

So what I came up with is quite a bit simpler, a little more abstract.

To be in a wilderness so dense and unspoilt is an incredibly humbling experience. The moment the paddle shatters the reflected forest on the surface of the cool, clean lake I had to involuntarily surrender control to my environment. The weather, downed trees, nosy wildlife; they all have the ability to overpower the skills I bring with me. There is only a small smattering of people, scattered few and far between, and travelers can't count on seeing anyone. You certainly can't count on anyone having a working communication device.

Those things in mind, I think it is a space that redefines 'trouble.' To be in trouble here at home (flat tire, late bus, broken appliance, and so on) is really to be inconvenienced. To be in trouble in the BWCA is to be in trouble.

To be in the BWCA is also empowering. There is that beautiful feeling of chasing (and then catching!) an experience many people don't get to have. It is a place ripe for accomplishing many things, from the simple breakfast cooked over a camp stove to the 232 rod portage. It fosters a great sense of independence and self-reliance. At the same time, it makes one put a lot of trust in the person they travel with-- trust that that person will have your best interests and safety in mind, trust that that person will communicate, trust that that person will not get (too) frustrated.

I think I may have said this about rural North Dakota too, but if there is such thing as 'God's Country,' the BWCA is it. I cannot think of many places that I have been to that inspired me with a sunrise, amazed me and challenged throughout the day, instilled great fear and respect for my surroundings in me as the sunset washed the world in a purple shadow, and then gently rocked me to sleep with the most stars I have ever seen in one night and the gentle lullabye of wilderness in the nighttime.

My words, like photos that just look like water, trees, and sky, do not begin to really describe this magnificent place.

Home Makeover: Modern Mugwump Edition

2011-08-21T20:15:00.001-05:00

Did a little makeover to my living room this weekend, courtesy of nice-guy-who-didn't-turn-out-to-be-an-ax-murderer who was selling an IKEA television stand that just happens to be, like, the missing piece from my collection. Seriously, so perfect.

I know I just moved in a few months ago, so you are probably wondering why I felt the need to rearrange. When you figure out that answer, let me know because sometimes I really would love to just leave things as they are, omigod stop MOVING AND CHANGING EVERYTHING. Creative minds cannot be contained (see: selling my art, running a marathon, inventing "dream life scenarios" that mirror every single real life scenario I have, but flashier) and thus the furniture got all shifted around.

Before: messy and cavernous. Way too large for Cat and I.

After: messy still, because I live here (duh.).

Photos are a little hard to get the whole gist, but simply: one huge room is now 2 functional spaces. Move. The. Eff. Over. Martha Stewart. Eat my zen furniture dust (and boy was it dusty under that couch! whew).

Unfortunately, Cat was a bit skeptical of the changes for a while. I am not totally sure why but I can guess a few reasons:

1. He cannot both chew on the blinds and get his claws stuck in the couch at the same time.

2. I spend more time in the seating area, but I put his toy den in the other half. He may think this is foolish oversight on my part, but I can assure you I am happy to have the stupid mouse with the freakish light up eyes somewhere where I don't watch scary movies.

Anyway, he spent most of the day "hiding" from me. He's real stealthy, see?

But it didn't take him long to get back to his ol' self.

And he even warmed right up (literally) to the sunshiney place his perch is in.

Guest Bloggin' Like a... *

2011-08-12T13:42:00.000-05:00

Just can't get enough of the Modern Mugwump? Wish you knew what was going on in my life at this. very. second?!

Really? That's creepy. Cut it out.

Well, today you gotta check me out at Finding a Balance-- the blog of friend and Ragnar Relay 2009 teammate, Hyedi.

And since you came all the way to my blog, and I don't want to leave you empty handed, I give you this:

*NOTHING witty rhymes with "bloggin'"

On the Plains of North Dakota

2011-08-11T11:18:00.001-05:00

Beautiful? Sure. For a little bit.

By hour 8 on Interstate 94, headed westward through North Dakota from Minneapolis, this view gets a little old. In fact, by the 8th hour in the car you have run out of stories for your road trip teammates to catch up on your hectic summer life. You have already passed the giant bison in Jamestown:

and the world's largest holstein cow in New Salem (I don't know those people):

Apparently, this cow's name is Salem Sue. Thanks, Google!

The land, while beautiful, is so empty that even your game of "those are my cows" has fizzled. There simply are no cows to claim. As the car travels west, the soft, flat landscape of the Dakota plains begins to give rise to a few rocky bursts as we hit the very earliest signs of the North Dakota Badlands and one road trip teammate cracks an "I like big buttes" joke that gets far more laughter than it deserves. Everything is funny during the 8th hour.

The road is flooded about 50 miles out of Dickinson, ND (our final destination) and everyone slows to a painful 45 miles per hour after sailing across the state at 80 or 85. Passengers are overwhelmed by the feeling that we never want to be in a car again. For the rest of our lives.

Phone calls and texts from Dickinson start coming in with less than an hour to go: "We're all checked in, can't wait to see you guys!" "Are you close?" "Will you pick up at least one case of beer?" "I think the groom's dinner includes free beer and wine." These messages feel like twinkling lights on the horizon-- we will make it and it will be good.

And it was good. In truth, as boring as the drive can be at times, you cannot at some point be overwhelmed by the beauty and serenity of huge plots of land that remain virtually untouched. It made me think, If there is such thing as 'God's country,' this truly must be it. And there is a charm to small towns that cannot be matched by the excitement and glamour of bustling cities. Residents and strangers alike are all old friends, and life moves at a pace that allows one to truly enjoy a lively conversation over a hot breakfast and the summer breeze caught in the veil of a new bride.

Though a thousand-mile-round-trip-in-the-span-of-72-hours mini-vacation wasn't always riveting, the truth is I would have traveled much further and much longer to celebrate the wedding of dear friends, who now embark on a far greater journey of love, partnership, and compromise.

May they continue to laugh at one another's 'big butte' jokes and not take every opportunity to kill the other's cows with each passing cemetery.

25 Things of Importance from My 25th Year

2011-07-24T08:54:00.001-05:00

I kicked off the 25th year by going to the Red Bull Flugtag in Saint Paul. Grown adults, about 6-8 per team, build ~~falling~~ flying machines and ~~throw them into~~ fly them over the Mississippi river. Very fantastic way to celebrate one's birthday!

Brewhouse Triathlon in Duluth, MN. This trip also included my first time swimming in Lake Superior and a chance to see the beautiful tall ships in a special event in the Duluth Harbor.

The Muddy Buddy Race, where I learned that ski slopes are for skiing and mountain bikes are heavy.

A pop/rock concert with my grandma at the Target Center (American Idol on Tour).

Two lovely camping trips to the North Shore with two lovely friends, one of which who has a gift for cooking over a fire.

A trip to our nation's capitol, which I think should be called the City of Learning. You cannot possibly be seeing Washington, DC right if you do not learn something. Also got to see an exhibit by one of my favorite contemporary American artists, Chuck Close.

Defended my Masters thesis on a sunny Tuesday afternoon.

(So I am using my calendar to make sure I don't miss any important events) I wrote "Christmas Tree Extravaganza" on a weekend in December and at first couldn't figure out what on earth that meant. But then I remembered: it means even as an adult, there is something very safe and a bit magical about getting to go to the home where you grew up, even if it is only 15 miles from your current home.

Right away into the new year I met someone who weekly reminds me to 'chill out,' taught me to play frisbee golf, also has good taste in beer, tells wonderful stories from around the world, routinely emails me "must hear this" music, and provides a lot of perspective when things feel chaotic.

The ladies of the family took a clay tiles class. The lesson? Canvas and paint just makes more sense to me, but I did walk away with at least one awesome coaster and a cool trivet.

Had an article I wrote about going to ASA Fastpitch Nationals as a young teenager published in the ASA Softball magazine.

Weekend trip to Fort Myers, Florida to watch Twins Spring Training, hang out with two fabulous ladies, and eat delicious seafood at quirky restaurants.

Moved into my first "on my own" apartment in a quiet Saint Paul neighborhood. Quickly discovered how expensive that is.

Celebrated Mom's first 5K finish at the Get in Gear 5K at Minnehaha Park!

Toured local brewery, Surly, and fell in love with their story (I was already in love with the beer).

Bought a kitty. Rescued a kitty. I already can't remember what my home was like before he walked under my feet, meowed constantly, and left little bits of shredded [fill in with: paper, cardboard, styrofoam, flowers, spider plant].

Celebrated the graduation of 2 lawyers, a dentist, and a physical therapist. My friends are freakishly smart.

Traveled to Decorah, IA for good beer and a lot of potato salad, good friends, a trombone quartet in a farm garage (as deer ran across the field- no kidding!), and 5 people in a tent. Oh, and a dog the size of a horse.

A long and trying few weeks responding to the North Minneapolis Tornado. Today, I am proud to have been a small piece of the puzzle that helped bring the needed resources to those affected and hopefully in the coming months we will see a stronger Northside.

Personal best time at the Buffalo Triathlon. Thank you, less hilly bike course!

Hung my first art show at the Minneapolis Skyway Senior Center. Apparently drew a lot of opinions from some of Minneapolis's most experienced citizens...

Went to several Twins games (finally seeing Target Field) but the highlight had to be watching one from a suite. Nothing makes me a fan like free food and cushy seats.

Enjoyed the Ordway's production of "Guys and Dolls" with Mom and Kim for Mother's Day/Kim's birthday.

Accepted and sponsored to present my work at a national summit in Atlanta, GA.

Started selling artwork on Etsy. Sold 2 so far, although only to people I know...

It's been a good year. I am feeling ready to head into the next quarter century!

Drugging Your Cat and Other Thursday Night Things To Do

2011-07-07T23:44:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago-- maybe even over a month now-- I became the owner/feeder/keeper of this charming orange ~~ball of fury~~ kitty.

This model of cat (who I named Jasper, after Jasper Johns who is a famous American artist) comes complete with 20 extremely sharp claws, a mouthful of needle sharp teeth, and one giant attitude. Unfortunately, right after I got him, I was involved in the tornado response in North Minneapolis and any sense of regularity and schedule he and I had started to develop was totally destroyed.

Since then, we have had a series of minor, but no less annoying, owner-cat issues. Some hyperactivity, some aggression, some attempts to destroy things that I would rather not have destroyed thankyouverymuch. I tried feeding him more, and then less, and then different. We have reestablished a schedule, as much as possible. We play for no less than 15 minutes every morning and every night.

And yet, the following things have happened this week:

1. At one point in the evening, I found him completely underneath my area rug in the living room.

2. He climbed through the blinds. And then got stuck.

3. He wedged himself in the space between the storm window and the inside window. And then got stuck.

4. He jumped onto the shower curtain rod. And then got stuck.

5. He spent 45 minutes at 3 AM jumping on the wall after a dead bug and letting the pads of his feet squeeeeeak all the way down the wall on his way back to the floor, where he landed with a thud! and a MEOW! before promptly jumping again.

6. My feet have been attacked while I was doing the following: sweeping, sleeping, stepping into the shower, stepping out of the shower, coming into my apartment, leaving the apartment, sitting on the couch, feeding the cat.

And the truthiest truth is that I love him for his quirks and the strange trouble he gets himself into. But tonight I was at Petco and I saw these treats (he loves a tuna treat!) that help calm cats. Like, uh, kitty Xanax. I had actually been told about this once before-- some herbal supplements to basically get your cat to just chill the eff out. And I was totally against it! I wasn't going to drug my cat! I was simply going to love the bad behavior right out of him!

At the moment I was walking away, I remembered a story a grad school classmate told me about traveling when she was a child. When she was little her parents used to give all their kids Benadryl or some other drowsy-making medication that made them all zonk out for the duration of a flight or road trip. So the kids basically had no recollection of traveling-- just being in new places. It's not that these parents didn't love their kids, they just also valued their own sanity. So for $5.99 I thought I would just try it, and if I ended up with some doped up, tuna treat addict for a cat, we could stop. Enter him into detox, and then stop, really.

I walked into the apartment at 5:47 PM and the moment of truth occurred just before 6 PM. And guess what? He wasn't doped up, he didn't just crash and sleep the whole night. In fact, he still got in a little bit of trouble. But he wasn't on the verge of psychosis. More importantly, I was not on the verge of psychosis. He was playful and he even bit me once, for old time sake. But now, as we wind down for bed he is actually winding down. Let the choir sing.

The packaging says I can give him 1-2 per day. $6 per pack, 21 treats in the pack = $2 per week for a happier household that I think we are both appreciating. I can handle that.

And Then There Were Nine (Again)

2011-06-27T10:39:00.002-05:00

6 months ago, I regaled you with the tale of the first marathon training casualty. A little right pinkie toenail that disappeared into the night. Later, I gladly reported the little guy's return and a once again full set of stubby toenails.

It is with a heavy heart (but lighter foot?) that I report today the loss of the left pinkie toe toenail.

When I first decided to train for the ~~ridiculous~~ ~~impossible~~ ~~foolish~~ challenging marathon, the first piece of advice I got was "Read. Read. Read. Read everything and try everything." So I created some bookmarks, got a subscription to Runner's World, and starting amassing as much knowledge as possible. The first article I read? "101 Ways Running a Marathon Will Totally Destroy You and the 1 Single Way it Will Be Cool."* Way at the top of the 101 Ways This Will Be Miserable was the loss of toenails. And it was followed by all these phrases that tried to make the disappearance of a body part seem normative: 'It happens to everyone,' 'don't be alarmed' blah blah blah. Don't be alarmed when part of you is completely missing?! Please.

In my mind, I envisioned this bloody war between running shoe and human body, complete with the stained socks of battle, weeks of taping the toe in hopes of saving the nail, and finally the literal agony of defeat (de-feet?) when the little guy finally lost his will to be on my pinkie toe any longer. It was destined to be a battle that I was prepared to fight, even though I knew the end result would be the same.

But it didn't happen like that at all. No blood. No savagely bruised foot or toe. No futile efforts to save it. It just quietly slipped away. Less heroic and more like the little nail said, "Eff this, I am sick of being rubbed by this damn shoe all the time. I'm out."

In a lot of ways I am glad it went this way. Realistically, running socks aren't cheap and I didn't want to ruin a million pairs in a daily battle for toenails. Also, I bet most of you cringed more than once reading this because severe toenail pain is totally one of the worst kind of pains. I don't need that. But there is something about having this great battle story, the "mind-over-body, woman-goes-all-out-to-save-nail" epic that I feel I didn't get. I was prepared to fight for it, and my body didn't give me the chance.

Luckily, I have some MONSTER blisters to battle. Sexy.

*I mean, this could be a tiny bit of an exaggeration, but hardly.

Fartlekking

2011-06-17T09:54:00.000-05:00

The fartlek is an interval training used by many athletes and specifically to build speed in runners. Fartlek is Swedish for "speed play," giving the runner some idea that this type of training is play-like: fun, joyous, invigorating.

It is not. It is exhausting, grueling, and a bit painful on the feet/calves/hips.

What's the Swedish work for "speed hell?"

According to Google Images, fartlekking looks like this:

Notice her long stride, her relaxed posture during the slower intervals, how nice her t-shirt and shorts still look at the end of the last interval.

Clearly, no one at Google has ever done one of these workouts. The truth: The first fast interval feels awesome (for me, this is 2 minutes at a 6.5mph pace). After the two minutes, I slow to a 5.6-6.0 mph for one minute and think, Gosh this is so easy! I could do this all day. I am the picture of health and fitness! I repeat this 2 minute speed/1 minute jog 3 times until minute 9. I am progressively starting to feel a little twinge in my legs and think, Twinge? That's fitness, baby! Keep rockin' out these miles! By minute 9 (when I get to walk briskly for 1 minute) I am thankful for a chance to rest a bit. That 1 minute of walking goes by extremely fast, but I remind myself I am 1/3 of the way through the workout. Only 20 more minutes to go. So I repeat the 2 speed/1 jog cycle, but this time by around minute 15 I am ready to pass out. I tell myself, You are already half way. So stupid to quit now. Just finish. Stop looking at the clock and just run. I am drenched in sweat. I smell awful. After a drink of water the saliva sticks to the top of my water bottle and makes a gross, gooey bridge from my mouth to the spout as I put the bottle back in it's holster. By minute 19 (the next chance to walk), I am feeling better and decide to forgo my rights to a walking minute and run at a 7.0 mph pace through that minute. I pay for this at exactly 25:43. The last 10 minutes of the fartlek are a blur of Just get through it. It will be done soon. and The pain in [fill your your favorite body part here] is quite noticeable. By the time the little treadmill clock ticks from 29:59 to 30:00, I can hardly contain my joy. I am a wheezing, sweating mess.

All because Gosta Holmer, a Swedish running coach, was sick of getting beat by the Finns in the 1930s, once a week I have to sacrifice for the running sins of the slow Swedes.

"Those cows are mine," the horse dog, 4 trombones, and other tales from south of the border

2011-06-15T13:15:00.001-05:00

I know this is oh-so-late. Forgive me.

In the midst of a very emotionally and physically trying few weeks at work, I was granted my Memorial Day weekend and traveled to Decorah, Iowa. I had previously only been to Iowa once and my experience can be summed up as: sludge in the hotel pool, stale donut for breakfast, an airplane engine for an air condition, and Ft. Madison prison. Other than this trip, my ideas about Iowa came mostly from pop culture references such as:

This I like because, even though I don't know these guys, they are demonstrating an important fact about Iowa-- the highest elevation in the state is in a corn field.

So, against my best judgment, I let myself be carted across the border on a sunny Friday afternoon, headed to Iowa. Decorah, specifically, a place where 80 percent of the homes have gnomes in their yards or windows and no fewer than half the flagpoles fly the banners of Sweden or Norway, is an incredibly peaceful respite from the hustle of the Twin Cities.

On the way, Aaron taught me a car game that I feel is perfect for driving through the heart of the Midwest: Those Cows Are Mine. The rules are simple-- if you see a herd or small grouping of cows, you simply exclaim to all other people in the car, "Those cows are mine." There is no counting of cows or herds; there is no score. And if you see a cemetery, you want to be the first person to unleash havoc on everyone else's cow collecting by declaring, "Your cows are dead." In all fairness, the passenger has a clear, insurmountable advantage in that they can look far and wide for the most hidden heard of cows to quickly claim as their own.

Once I had claimed all of the Minnesota-Iowa cows I could, we arrived in Decorah and drove straight to Luther College, Aaron's undergraduate institution of learning and tromboning and other things uniquely college/young 20's. The self-guided tour included the following distinct features of Luther College: The CFL, where music is played on a grand stage for a packed house; the Union; the library, including a Japanese rock garden under the stairs and a visit to the study corral Aaron used to do much of his research and writing; the library lawn; the music practice rooms; the art building; the science building; the gym where an infamous "Hard Body Plan" once took place; and various other significant buildings, landmarks, and lawns.

Decorah has a certain magnetic pull that seems to be an especially strong force on young men with large brass instruments in their trunks. We met up with two of Aaron's closest friends from college (as well as the joyous fiancee of one of them), who also are accomplished trombone players (trombonists? tromboners? I am not sure...). One of the best parts of the trip was driving down some rural roads just outside Decorah, 5 young adults in a powder blue Prius, sunburnt and relaxed after a day of site-seeing and frisbee golfing, to a small white farmhouse. We pulled in to see four chairs and four music stands pre-arranged for the evening festivities-- a concert by a garage band, if garage band means impromptu trombone quartet. It was an incredibly soothing experience for me, having just come from a city literally torn apart by disaster, to laze in a chair in the middle of the country and listen to four gentlemen make music and shoot the breeze. It is here that we also met the horse dog, Magne. Magne is a giant black Great Dane with the running gait of a fish out of water and sweet, sweet eyes. While Magne is Norwegian for "fierce warrior," I would describe him as a pretty gentle giant.

I am realizing this post is starting to get long, and probably isn't very cohesive... I apologize, but it is hard to weave into my own experience each of the stories shared by the young men about what the people and places in Decorah mean to them and this very strong kinship between them and this sort of fairytale place. Every story has this fantastical, larger-than-life quality that makes you fall in love with all the characters. I can say, hopefully with great clarity, that it is always wonderful to be welcomed into a group of close friends nearly immediately and with such warmth. So much so, in fact, that sleeping 5 across in a 4 person tent is only crowded, but never awkward.

Put That in Your Instant Queue and Shove It

2011-05-26T21:41:00.000-05:00

I have been responding to a tornado that hit North Minneapolis for 4 days now.* The stories are heartbreaking, the work is grueling, and I am physically and emotionally exhausted. Tonight I got home to watch a movie to unwind a little and Netflix suggested I watch Twister.

Twister? Twister?!

Fuck you, Netflix. I want to cancel.

*I am not terribly comfortable expanding on the tornado given the heartbreaking stories and the fact that once something hits the internet, it never dies.

A Literal Boatload of Lawyers

2011-05-24T00:42:00.000-05:00

I am sure you have been checking back on my blog every day for the last nearly-month and imagined all the wondrous and amazing things that were keeping me away from the keyboard. Did you think mountain climbing? Drinking sangria in the south of Spain? Breaking the world record in Olympic hurdles?

Well, you were close. But even more fabulous than all those things, I have been attending fresh-lawyer parties*!

Ingredients for a Fresh-Lawyer Party

8-60 Fresh Lawyers**

1-5 ~~Unsuspecting Victims~~ Girlfriends

54 High Fives

5 Discussions about Bar Prep Courses

22 Toasts boasting "Dude! We're done!"

Alcohol in quantities unmeasurable

Optional Ingredients

Paddleboat

A Sidewalk chalk drawing of Martin Van Buren

A deck of cards with, um... 'clothing optional' ladies

A half-naked Wisconsinite fresh-lawyer arguing the constitutionality of the Amish
Mashed potatoes served in a martini glass***

Throw all that in your martini shaker, add a dash of admiralty law, and top of your Martini Glass Mash with some broccoli and you are ready to... ~~party!~~ talk about the law. Well, maybe it is more accurately a mix of both and it is surprisingly fun in a way only fresh-lawyer parties can be. In fact, in legal speak, I could not be unaware of the amount of fun I had at all these parties that kept me from you.

Also, there is a lesser-known benefit of being a semi-regular attendee of fresh-lawyer parties: you yourself can win your very own fresh-lawyer!

*A "fresh-lawyer" is an individual who has just completed three grueling years of law school and has had (or is about to have) the degree of Juris Doctor conferred upon them. They are easy to spot in the wild, as they often refer to themselves as "Dr. Talking About Myself in the Third Person."

** A ripe fresh-lawyer is pale in color (from weeks in the library) and slightly soft when squeezed (grad school is rough on anyone's diet).
*** I am serious. And these were professional caterers that served a mashed potato bar in martini glasses. And perhaps rightfully so. What else says "legal professional" like a plastic martini glass overflowing with mashed potatoes and broccoli cheese topping? Nothing, that's what.

One (or One Hundred) Day(s) At a Time

2011-04-28T18:46:00.000-05:00

I love the feeling I get when I am anticipating something. At first I hated admitting that because, reading between the lines I thought it really said "I am always waiting for something better." But I don't think that's true. I genuinely enjoy the little shiver of excitement that runs up my spine and makes my shoulders quiver and hearing my voice get an octave higher and my speech adopt a hurried cadence when I talk about all the things I am looking forward to.

There is no better way to build anticipation than a solid, reliable countdown. Lately, there has been so much going on, I have had several things to be excited about at once (this is lovely). I was struggling, however, with knowing how excited I could/should be in general and, in turn, how excited I could/should be about a single event. So I invented the Master Countdown! It. Is. Awesome.*

2 days until I join Mom on her very first 5K run (which will go fabulous, so stop worrying, Mom)

2 days until Minneapolis Outdoor Farmers Markets open (and I think St. Paul too!) I love farmers markets. I love the fresh produce, I can't wait to buy big beautiful boquets of flowers for 5 dollars, I long for a delicious cup of coffee and a full bag of potatoes with bits of the earth still clinging to their rounded edges.

3 days to getting keys to ~~independence~~ my new apartment.

9 days until I move into my new place (and then get to go on a Surly Brewery Tour!)

15 days until the only dentist I will ever like gets her degree. It has been fun to be a friend and roommate to her while she has worked so diligently at a dream she first had when she was no more than 8 years old.

17 days until my longest time friend finishes her law degree. This will (hopefully) be a sweet sweet finish to a very arduous but well-fought journey for this girl. She deserves to be so very proud of herself.

19 days until the Twin Cities American Red Cross Heroes Award. I love almost everything about the Red Cross: blood donation, disaster relief, lifesaving skills education. All of it. Also, getting to work there for 6 months was incredible. So, anytime I can support them, I will. All the sweeter that last year my very own dad won the Community Hero award.

22 days until this guy that I am ~~kind of dating~~ head over heels for finishes his law degree. Thankfully this will not be the end of discussions on the CISG.** Phew!

29 days until I make a willing trip to visit the state of Iowa?! I know...

39 days until my 3rd running of the Buffalo Triathlon. Year 1 I was panicked/frightened. Year 2 I was unprepared and overwhelmed in life in general. Year 3? So ready, baby.

59 days until Mom, Kim, and I see Guys and Dolls at the Ordway for Mother's Day/Kim's birthday. PS: I think the seats we got are awesome. And thus the daughter/kid sister that picked them is probably also awesome... just sayin'.

88 days until I officially hit the quarter-century mark. So far, my 25th year has been challenging/beautiful/busy/expensive.

94 days until a great college friend's wedding to a beautiful young woman. What I can't figure out is why, if he lives in Medford, Oregon, he is getting married in Dickinson, North Dakota. It makes no sense to me.

157 days until I ~~die trying to~~ run a marathon. I am running (?) the 30th annual Twin Cities Marathon. You should come cheer me on. I would plan on cheering someplace between the Start and Mile 10... I don't know if I will make it any further than that.

*And of course, it is outdated by tomorrow.
**Convention of International Sale of Goods. Or maybe the Convention on the Contracts of International Sale of Goods? Well, no... that would be the CCISG or the hipper C2ISG (or even 2CISG).

Committing Fungicide

2011-04-24T22:17:00.000-05:00

Remember when I said I would try mushrooms in 2011? I did it tonight with pizza from Savoy's with my parents. And guess what?!

[Sorry, this isn't a fairy tale where I tell you I have been wrong about mushrooms all along and "oh gosh aren't they delicious?!"]

No. They are still a fungus and they taste like slimy feet.

Luckily, the pizza was saved with my delicate lobotomy skills, carefully disentangling the fungal infidels from the delicious melted cheese.

Casualties #4 and #5: The Hip Bone's Connected to the Leg Bone

2011-04-21T21:11:00.001-05:00

Casualty #4: My left hip.
Hard to know if this is truly an issue with my actual hip, or the excruciating pain in my hip socket (for example, it feels like someone's fist is wedged between the head of my femur and the socket that is supposed to be gently cradling it) is a symptom of something else. Preferably, something fairly easy to fix. Which I think/hope it is. Which brings us to...

Casualty #5: My dream shoes.
I believe the pain in my hip (and sometimes calves and knees) is caused by something easy to fix, but simultaneously slightly heartbreaking. It is time for the Nikes to be retired. My dream shoes. That I designed. With my name embroidered near the heel. Generally, serious runners put no more than approximately 300 miles on a pair of shoes. While I have not always tracked mileage, I know I have run over 100 miles in 2011 alone, so I am guessing that shoes that first hit the pavement over 20 months ago have seen closer to 400 miles. Luckily, Groupon had a coupon for the Running Room a few weeks ago and at the very least I can get a discount.

The next depressing part of the New Soles for my Soul saga? If I really stick to this marathon training thing, I will have racked up so many miles that I will have to buy ANOTHER pair of shoes before race day. I hope Ramen is on the pre-race diet. . .

F*#% the Fitted Sheet

2011-04-11T20:51:00.001-05:00

Scene 1: Fitted sheet (not belonging to me) left in the dryer. Attempt to nest the corners and fold. Unfold and reattempt. Lose patience. Try one more time. Grab something resembling a corner in each hand and spin arms around one another real fast, making tight ball of sheet. Look at ball of wrinkled fabric. As folded as it gets. Done.

Scene 2: New sheets! Yay! Bring them home and put them on the bed. In removal of current sheet, one corner permanently attached to mattress corner. Tug until corner loosens and elastic of the fitted sheets whaps! me in the face. Awesome. While putting on new sheets, corners 1, 2, and 3 go on without hassle. Get to corner 4 to discover sheet cannot possibly be big enough. Sideways? Remove sheet and reaffix to mattress. Success with only corners 1 and 2. This orientation is more wrong than the first. Reattempt original orientation. Corners 1, 2, and 3 successful! Borrow Jaws of Life from local fire department to affix corner 4. Corner 4 success, until... pop! from corner 1. Shit. Tug on corner 1... almost there... pop! from corner 3. Guh. Go around bed, tug on corner 3... pop! from ol' corner number 4. Repeat for ten minutes until you promise your first born son to the 200 Thread Count Gods and all corners stay put.

Scene 3: Sleeping in new sheets and pop! from corner 4. Unreal.

Scene 4: Look up on YouTube how to fold a fitted sheet. Women in the video is IRONING the sheet. Decide she is batshit crazy and life is too short to fold fitted sheets. Repeat folding method used in Scene 1.

Casualty #3: The Epic Battle Between Pants and Runner's Thighs

2011-04-06T12:46:00.002-05:00

You know what happens when most people run? They get slim, lean bodies with flab-to-fab bellies, chiseled legs and arms.

You know what happens to me when I run? Thighs. Thighs all over. I slimmed a tiny bit (only to toss it all back on by eating my weight in seafood on vacation and then subsequently discovering a co-worker's chocolate cache). But mostly I have just added epic mass to my thighs. Granted, it's clear that the big bulge over my knee is many-miles-earned muscle rather than many-muffins-eaten fat. My pants, however, do no know the difference and are staging a coup against me. Everything is now too tight in the thighs. Fitting, and even loose in the middle and over my non-existent tookus (aren't runners supposed to have great butts? I would settle for just having a butt...), but the fabric of my pants is stretched to the limit over the Thundering Thighs of the Tubby Trotter.

TGISS. (Thank Goodness It's Skirt Season).

Reverb 11: April

2011-04-05T10:19:00.001-05:00

What's blossoming?

It's hard to think of anything blossoming in the literal sense while Minnesota impatiently awaits Spring's arrival (for example, I had to use an ice scraper this morning. In April. Unreal).

But many other things are blossoming this time of year and I have been awaiting them with as much anticipation as the warmer sun, breezy skies, and vivid landscapes of earth painted by the blooming perennials.

Blossoming independence. Figuring life out after grad school isn't always pleasant, and having a temporary, grant-funded position without benefits doesn't exactly help one feel any more secure in their future. Instead, I made like a barnacle and affixed to anything and anyone I could. Including my sister's basement, where I have been living at a reduced cost since August. It's been good, really. I've saved some cash, figured out my tops from bottoms, successfully navigated the student loan repayment system, and so on. So on May 7, I am stretching my independence stride a little further and I am moving into my own apartment (you may or may not have noticed the theme of recent blog posts being ~~somewhat~~ entirely about said new place). It's nothing terribly fancy, but it has that wonderful 'old, renovated building' charm. It's small (perhaps tiny) at 500 square feet, but those will be my 500 square feet. With my stuff. And probably by May 10, my huge mess. But! I don't have to feel guilty about my mess in my space. Lovely. With this will come some other independences I have been meaning to do for a while, like no longer claiming my childhood home as my permanent address.

I believe the phrase my dad used on the phone during a conversation was "putting on my big girl panties."

Blossoming opportunities. When my current position was extended in December, I was told that the duration of the job was limited by the available funds. This never means: "If we spend wisely we might be able to keep you for a long time." It always means: "Every penny not spent by or on July 31 is returned to the funder and your position ceases to exist. Forever. Without opportunity for resurrection. We'd love to keep you but cannot, please do not let the door hit you on the way out." So, I was quite positive that August would find me unemployed and unable to find work and thus all of the effort I had put into my blossoming independence (see above) would fail to matter and I would once again be stalled. But it turns out tomorrow I have a job interview with a metro county and my boss is feverishly working to see if a position can be created in our current department. Whoa. Now, realistically I might not be the right candidate for either position, but at least I know there is some hope.

Blossoming creativity. In case working, looking for new jobs, and moving weren't quite enough for me, I am also hanging my first art show in June at the UCare Minneapolis Skyway Senior Center. So, I have been/will be working at a semi-frantic pace to complete as many paintings as possible before then which means I have had to creative with subject matter. I simply cannot hang 12 Spoonbridge and Cherry paintings in one show...

Blossoming drive and athleticism. This is one of those tempermental blooms that are so hard to tend to. Too much water? Unhealthy yellowing of the leaves. Not enough sun? Wilty. But while I had neglected my duties to hammer out some miles for a couple of weeks, I am back on track (I think) and the goals I have set for myself seem challenging, but potentially obtainable. It's a tough balance to find the time to work out, and it is especially hard to tell someone that you can't make plans or have to make abbreviated plans in order to fit in a workout. To me, it sounds like I am telling them that 45 minutes by myself on a dreadmill is more important, which isn't the case at all. It's a means to an end, and really, that end is pretty important to me. Whether or not it is a marathon (although I think it still is), I still have triathlons and other races to participate in and I want to do so knowing I gave the preparation everything I had.

Blossoming ~~romance~~ ~~relationship~~ whatever it is you call that feeling when someone gives you the butterflies all the time and you like to talk to them about matters of absolutely no consequence just because it's fun and you miss them when they're gone, but you're sort of over impressing them but not because you don't want to but because you're finally pretty comfortable that this is something good. Yeah, whatever that is called, it's good.

National Public Health Week

2011-04-04T10:06:00.000-05:00

Public Health. It's what I do, it's what I love and I can't imagine working in any other field. So I am so excited to share with you that it is National Public Health Week!

High five someone who is working to reduce obesity, someone who advocates for affordable and accessible healthy foods and safe opportunities to be active. High five someone who is working to reduce smoking rates and create environments that reduce everyone's risk from secondhand smoke. High five someone who continues the fight to provide comprehensive, evidence-based sex ed to adolescents so they can make healthy choices. High five someone who works tirelessly to advocate for the creation of laws that promote a healthy population. And give a fist bump to someone who is working to prevent the spread of infectious disease through education, vaccination, personal hygiene, and clean environments. Every one of us benefits from the public health nurses, educators, researchers, program developers, advocates, and champions.

An Interview with a Mugwump

2011-03-26T12:16:00.004-05:00

I have this somewhat bad habit/compulsion that when I enter someone's home for the first time, I like to look at all of their stuff. Well, not like digging through their undies or anything especially creepy, but I like to look at every travel souvenir, every family photo, each tchotchke on the shelf above the sink, every piece of art. You can learn a lot about what people value and their tastes by looking at what they put in their home.

Turns out, about two months ago I purchased the conversational equivalent of reading the spine of every book on someone's shelf. A book of questions! Which was a genius invention for people like me, who ~~could~~ did spend an hour 'interviewing' someone about their favorite foods and activities at the Minnesota State Fair. We brought the book along on our trip to Florida and I learned some really neat things about people I have known for 10 years.

So, because blogging seems more fun than packing right now and there isn't anyone here to interview, I figured you (I?) would enjoy an interview with a Mugwump. Particularly because I know there are some new followers-- thanks!-- and I haven't done any 'About Me' list-like things in quite a while. And because I don't want to pack.

What are things you once believed that more knowledge proved different?

I once believed my parents knew everything. I mean, they could make a math problem out of a restaurant napkin! They knew about all of these things that happened in the 1970s! Do you know how long ago that seemed for a Kindergartner in the early 90s? Of course, things have changed since age 5 and I don't believe that my parents know everything. I know they know everything.

Are you good at answering trivia questions?

I cannot remember what I ate for breakfast, where my shoes/keys/cup of coffee went, or remember to accomplish many things without a list. That's because my brain space is filled with trivia, particularly on current events, art, and pop culture history. My trivia weakness is film history. I cannot identify famous people in a line up and I have seen an embarrassingly low number of films.

Do you want an open seat next to you on an airplane?

This question had me torn. My first reaction was to answer as follows: An open seat?! I'd settle for more than 3 ounces of beverage and 2 peanuts, I'd be thrilled if the lady behind me would stop mining for precious gems in the seat back pocket, and I'd love if Mr. Snores-Too-Much in front of me did not lean his face back all the way into my lap.

But that's really not a problem at all. Would I like an open seat? Sure, it makes air travel a little more comfortable. What I really want is for everyone on my flight to remain healthy. I want my plane to take off and land safely. In the event of an emergency, I want my chair cushion to actually float or for my oxygen mask be free of any kinks that prevent the flow of air. After that, an open seat is just a bonus.

Do you stand or walk on escalators?

Yes. I rarely sit, squat, or dance a jig on the escalator. I find that standing or walking, while a bit bland, is the most socially acceptable. Also, imagine getting your bum caught between the joining stairs at the end of the ride! Ouch!

In what order do you put on your clothes?

Undies last! (When I am feeling Superheroic)

What would you name your yacht?

This question came up in Florida, and I am still struggling. If it were a river-traversing vessel, I would call it "Mudflat Mugwump" but this is not a very classy, elegant name. A sea-faring vessel needs something a little more regal. Perhaps I would name her "Lady Gray." I have no idea where that comes from, other than I am pretty sure it is a type of tea. . . Also, I would like "Yellow Submarine" but I imagine this is probably trademarked and I would prefer my hypothetical yacht not act like a submarine.

Do you prefer summer or winter?

This question is being asked of a non-skiing Minnesotan who had their spring rudely interrupted by a rain/sleet/snow/ice-stravaganza that made traffic a nightmare and is contributing to the rampant flooding that is about to befall our beloved state. As far as I am concerned blistering sunburns, swimsuits, fancy cocktails over ice, and rooftop or patio bars cannot happen soon enough. Summer.

You Can't Always Get What You Want, But if You Try Sometime You Find You get What You Need

2011-03-23T08:51:00.002-05:00

Update: I got the apartment in St. Paul. Turns out, no one else in my life had any doubt that I would pass the rigorous application process ("Please list the first and last name of both your parents. Please list all debts you have ever or might ever consider having. Please rank your toes in order of favorite to least favorite.") Okay, maybe I didn't have to rank toes, but let us remember that I am now in my dreaded mid-twenties (omigoshwhathappened?) and have never applied to live in an apartment by myself.

With having never truly lived on my own, I have never had all the things one needs to completely fill an apartment. The time I did live alone in college was in a campus apartment, which was pretty much all set up with the things one would need to survive. in 2008 entered Best Roommate Ever who owns (and uses beautifully) every kitchen gadget known to man, has furniture and decorations, rugs and plates, silverware and vintage records. All I ever had to do was show up and we were ready.

Now that I am approximately 45 days from Step 1 to independent, mature adulthood, I realize there are things I really need for an apartment. But for every 1 item I add to the list of things needed, I put about 2 to 4 items on the list of things wanted. It goes like this:

Kitchen Need: Microwave.

Kitchen Want(s): Ninja Bread Men cookie cutters, fruit infusing pitcher, life vest for my wine.

Living Room Need: A Rug.

Living Room Want(s): Green head planter, metal owl, bird bookends.

The list of needs goes on: toaster, broom, garbage can, bed skirt, etc etc etc. So you can only imagine what the list of wants looks like...

Current Situation: Extreme Anticipation

2011-03-21T10:27:00.002-05:00

"I've been sitting, waiting, wishing..." -- Jack Johnson

I cannot fathom why, one whole hour into the work week, I have not yet heard about the position I applied for with a metro county (which closed at 5 pm on Friday) nor have I heard about the apartment I applied for Saturday afternoon.

I'm just kidding. Of course I understand.

But logic doesn't make me stop compulsively checking my phone in case I missed a call which is impossible because the phone is practically surgically attached to my body at all times. All times. Logic doesn't keep me from constantly logging in to the application I submitted to see if the status has changed in the last... 5 or so minutes. Logic isn't keeping me from excessive chair swiveling, toe tapping, pen clicking, or speaking of little except a new job, a new apartment, and a new cat (which apparently 80% of my friends will hate/be allergic to). It doesn't keep me from replaying this worst-case scenario over and over in my mind: I do not get the apartment, my sister kicks me out, the county laughs me right out of an interview, and I end up mopping floors for $6.00/hr and returning to a windowless basement apartment in which the toilet is in the kitchen.

My imagination gets the best of me often. Particularly when I am stuck waiting for something.

So here I sit, trying to focus on work, and instead bouncing back and forth between worst-case scenario and daydreaming about where I will hang art in a tiny not-yet-mine apartment in St. Paul. And pondering why no one seems to think it is appropriate to name a cat Michael...

BONUS: I was looking for a word that rhymed with 'anticipation' for the title and also came up with these other possibilities:

Anticipation Infiltration
Anticipation: Fire Station (only to be bested by 'Anticipation: Space Station!')
Crustacean Anticipation
Anticipation Mutation (this happens when you change what you are waiting for)
Anticipation Taxation
Anticipation Activation (you're just starting to get excited!)
Anticipation Cancellation (I hope this does not happen to me)
Anticipation Confirmation
Anticipation: Population 1
Anticipation: Taste Sensation!
Anticipation with Speculation
Anticipation by Experimentation
Anticipation: Guilt by Association
Process of Elimination Anticipation

Really, the list goes on and on... but if later you check back and find this post has been renamed Anticipation: The Space Station do not say you weren't warned.

Reverb 11: March

2011-03-16T11:16:00.000-05:00

If March 2011 was your last month to live, how would you live it?

Honestly, if I only had 31 days to live I would not continue life as normal. I love my job, but that's probably the first thing that would change. And I would probably stop caring about what I ate on a daily basis. Bring on the ice cream sundaes, the ball park hot dogs, tacos every night, and cupcakes for breakfast. I would probably move back to my parents' house.

But on the other hand, some things would stay the same. In fact, many of the things I have already done in March (or am planning on doing) would fit right in line with my wishes for my last 31 days.

I would take a vacation with my best friends and take in stories of their aspirations for their future and laugh as we compare those to the lofty dreams we had for ourselves when we first met as teenage girls.

I would spend time laughing with my family and loving them up in any way I knew how.

I would attend events that I enjoy and that have significance to my friends or family. I would celebrate the accomplishments of those around me without jealousy or competition.

I would play ball with the dogs in my life.

I would not fold my socks.

I would paint. I would paint often. I would paint big things and small things. I would paint yellow things and blue things.

I would eat Mom's classic chili.

I would love and be loved, and I can think of no better way to spend my final 31 days.

100 Reads: The Tao of Pooh and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

2011-03-09T16:10:00.000-06:00

I would maybe consider myself someone who is pretty open-minded, particularly culturally and spiritually, to ideas that are different than my own and different than those promoted in American culture but after reading the Tao of Pooh, I can say for sure that I will probably never be a taoist. The central ideas of taoism that the offer put forward were difficult for me to understand or relate to. Much of it was about being very calm, and that I can support. I like the idea of creating time in your day/week to have some calm time to do simple things like enjoy coffee and the crossword or cryptoquip. But the book also placed an emphasis on just leaving things alone, not creating change, and not having a drive for knowledge and to learn more. I simply can't get behind those things. I am always making changes and always wanting to know more. And finally, I am not sure the book is really that well-written. Many of the comparisons seemed to be a stretch and it seemed as if the author was trying to find a creative way to introduce a somewhat boring philosophy (things are the way they are, deal with it) to the reader.

Happily, I followed up with The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time and this was a fantastic read. Written from the perspective of a 15 year old boy with an autism spectrum disorder, I recognized many of the behaviors and flighty thoughts from my days working with autistic and cognitively impaired children when I worked at a YMCA camp. The things that are most lovely about this book are the things that I cherished about each of my autistic campers: their creativity, their fascination on a single topic, their frankness. I am not sure it is an easy book to describe because it is a bit flighty and there are sections that seem entirely unrelated to the story (a murder mystery involving the neighbor's dog), but it is an exciting read and I easily finished it in the span of one week, including over 100 pages on a flight.

Currently reading "off the list" Mennonite in a Little Black Dress (A Memoir of Going Home). Very great book (so far) about a woman's return to her Mennonite family in her 40s after her husband left her from a man he met on gay.com. The author, Rhoda Janzen, manages to describe her family with great humor without ever making the reader doubt that she loves them very much and would never trade her Mennonite upbringing for anything, despite not maintaining that lifestyle. I have purchased myself a copy of the big, bad Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, so I think that will be next when I go back "on the list."

Spring Training 2011 and why the months of April (and maybe May and June), September, and October are going to be difficult

2011-03-07T19:35:00.000-06:00

Hockey pre-season starts in September and regular season goes through April. Play-offs and the Stanley Cup championships go all the way until the 2nd week of June.

This makes it nearly impossible to also be a fan of a sport in which the pre-season starts late February and regular season starts in April (this covers the most critical period of hockey's regular season). Further, post-season play could end up stretching into October, overlapping with hockey's earliest drops of the pucks.

And, after all, I do live in the State of Hockey. Not the State of Baseball.

But something makes me think I might slowly be turning a corner, and I may have to be a two-sport fanatic. I am sure it has nothing to do with 4 beautiful days in Ft. Myers, FL, attending my first outdoor professional baseball games, third row tickets, ballpark hot dogs, fabulous company, or the awesomeness that is: a foam finger.

The Final Countdown

2011-03-01T22:12:00.000-06:00

I would really prefer to post this at the "24 hours until I leave on vacation" moment, but that would require me to wake up at 4:30 AM to post, and frankly the dedication to accuracy isn't that strong. Consider it an early celebration of a vacation to Ft. Myers, Florida with some of my favorite ladies!

This is me, signing off. But only for a few glorious sunny days!

xoxo

100 Reads: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time

2011-02-28T10:59:00.001-06:00

I made a lovely Sunday visit to Half-Priced Books yesterday and picked up this Mark Haddon novel for $6. The story is written in the first person perspective of Christopher Boone, a British teenager experiencing life within the autism spectrum. Although autism is not explicitly stated in the text itself, the story describes experiences and preferences that are undoubtedly characteristics of autism spectrum disorders, such as having all of the prime numbers from 1 to 7,057 memorized, an unexplained and severe disgust for the color yellow, an extremely negative reaction to being touched or hugged, and an inability to recognize and relate to complex human emotion.

I am so far 42 pages in to this novel and found it hard not to fall in love with young Christopher as he so bluntly points out some of the nuances of language and human interaction that most of us take for granted. The story has started with the discovery that a neighborhood dog has died from a garden fork wound and Christopher has decided to take up investigation of the dog's murder.

As a mostly non-fiction reader, I am happy to have found a novel that is holding my attention so well. I think this is going to be a fabulous plane ride/poolside book for my extended weekend vacation coming up in less than 72 hours!

Maybe I'm Too Busy to Title This One

2011-02-23T22:13:00.001-06:00

Burning the candle at both ends? Not really.

Strapping the candle to a firecracker and exploding it into a million sparkling bits that rain to the ground in a spectrum of brilliant colors? Yep.

So maybe I am up at 5am and to bed at 11pm some nights. Maybe it sometimes takes 2 big cups of (sinfully delicious omigodiloveyou) coffee for me to reach baseline function in the morning. Maybe I spend my train ride home trying to architect a night that uses every minute perfectly.

Maybe tonight I mistakenly thought a peanut butter sandwich would fuel me through 20 minutes of silly playtime with a yellow dog, a devilish carving session in the clay studio, and a 3 mile run. Maybe I put my running pants on backwards and didn't notice until mile 2. Maybe I forgot headphones. And my gym card. And to check the mail.

But maybe, just maybe, last week I turned a corner in my marathon training and I am finally feeling confident that I will cross that finish line in October. And maybe today I was invited to showcase my artwork in June and I found just a moment to call Mom and Dad (between clay and backwards-pants running) to share that news. And maybe in all the driving around I was able to sing to Florence and the Machine's The Dog Days Are Over at the very top of my lungs and even squeeze in a little dance at a stoplight. And maybe in between all of this running around I managed to convince another person that I am interesting and worth a goodnight phone call.

Maybe I am vaporizing the fabled candle before I can even think about lighting it.

That's ~~maybe~~ definitely okay. Life is ~~definitely~~ extremely good.

Casualty #2 (Or #1, revisited)

2011-02-17T13:06:00.000-06:00

An update on the toe with no toenail.

Now it's broken. Not the toenail. The whole toe.

And before you go judging my ability to self-diagnose, let me just give you the list of symptoms and allow you to make your own conclusion-- which I am sure will be the same as mine.

Symptom #1: While running, I heard and felt a pop in my pinky toe followed by immense pain.
Symptom #2: Swelling of epic proportions.
Symptom #3: Hot to the touch, indicating some pretty gnarly inflamation.
Symptom #4: Bruising. Pick your shade, pick your intensity. I got it.
Symptom #5: Pain. And a lot of it, for a while.

On the plus side, there is a nub of toenail coming back!

Reverb 11: February

2011-02-12T12:13:00.000-06:00

One month in to 2011, what question(s) are you living? Are there any prompts from Reverb10 that are still resonating in you life? Are you living new questions?

I took some much needed time this morning to read my Reverb10 posts-- I needed some time to refocus and recenter myself and I think, even though I didn't recognize it at the time, I needed to read those posts too. The Reverb prompts are so great at challenging me to look at the good and the bad in myself, my experiences, my year and put it all in words. Own my accomplishments, and failures too.

From all 31 posts in December, I discovered the following themes are still resonating with me and inspiring some of the things I am doing in 2011:

1. Continue to GROW even when it is painful.
2. I learn more about myself and my limits (or lack of) with every mile I RUN.
3. STOP WAITING.
4. CREATE whenever possible. Create LAUGHTER always.
5. Be CONFIDENT in my beauty, inside and out.
6. CELEBRATE the little things, the lucky things, and the things that happen by chance.
7. In 24 years I have cultivated some of the most amazing RELATIONSHIPS. Hang tight to those.
8. It's not always easy, but there's NO GIVING UP.
9. The simplest JOYS are in front of me all the time. There is no need to search.
10. CHANGE is inevitable. I can resist it or I can look forward to the way it refreshes my life and the way I experience it. One of these options is far more rewarding than the other.

For me it is easy to embrace and live 2, 4, and 6. 1, 9, and 10 come fairly naturally. The beauty of 7 is that when I slip from it a bit, the others in those relationships pick me up. That's how those relationships became amazing. 3, 5, and 8 require a little more practice, a few more reminders, but they too can be accomplished. Overall, a very manageable and inspiring theme list.

Life is good.

I Don't Save the Animals (or Grocery Shop) but I Do Watch Professional Sports

2011-02-12T09:54:00.001-06:00

I wish I could give you some sexy reason for why I have been so terribly MIA from blogging in the last 2 weeks.

Was I saving baby pandas in the bamboo forests of China? No, I was not.

Was I huddled in a vividly colored tent at a base camp on my way to the peak of Mt. Everest? No, I was not.

Was I lost a sea for days, drifting under a harsh sun on a slowly deflating life raft after a diving trip gone wrong? No, I was not.

Was I here, in Minneapolis, having several local adventures (of a less dangerous variety)? Why, yes I was.

Did I enjoy a beautifully crafted fancy cocktail at Prohibition, the bar atop the historic Foshay Tower? Yes I did.

Did I know Minnesota still had a professional basketball team? No, not really... but did I have a wonderful time watching them lose (surprise surprise)? Yes I did.

Did I start taking an art class with my mom and sister that has me a little psyched out (it's clay-3D. I am a 2D kid, generally) but excited to have a concrete time set to release the creativity each week? Yes I did.

Did I finally go to the Xcel Energy Center to see the Minnesota Wild hockey team play in the great State of Hockey? Yes I did. Did I have an awesome time? Most certainly.

Have I actually been sticking to my marathon training schedule? Yes I have. And I think I might have even had a bit of a breakthrough in the last week between a 5 mile long run last Sunday and a pair of short 3s this week. I am certainly on track to personal best some 5Ks this spring, if nothing else. Less than 4 months to the Buffalo Triathlon-- time to start working in some more swim time.

Have I been spending a fair amount of my spare time with a young man who shares my love for coffee (let us gloss over his preference for Starbucks...), has good taste in beer, makes interesting conversation, looks fantastic in a suit, and takes me to a hockey game even though he may rather be on the baselines at Target Field? Yes I have. Gladly.

Have I gone grocery shopping since I last felt I was "out of food?" No. So meals lately have consisted of spaghetti or mac'n'cheese, peanut butter sandwiches, and coffee. Milk has only been gone for 2 days, but apples for at least 4. This is most distressing and somewhere between the treadmill miles, the professional sporting events, and drinks with fruit hanging off the edge of the cup, I will buy another 10 pounds of apples and restore peace to the refrigerator. And maybe some cheese.

ALSO! In a completely unrelated topic, Reverb10 is back as Reverb11 and they are posting monthly prompts starting in February. The current prompt is sitting unanswered in my inbox right now, but expect an update in that fashion shortly.

Three Amigos Weekend

2011-01-30T23:39:00.001-06:00

Animal/housesitting for my jetsetting parents this weekend. The dog and cat would like to share with you how that is going so far.

The Dog's Day

8:00 AM: Oh wow! You're awake! Yay! My favorite thing!

8:30 AM: We're going outside! My favorite thing!

9:00 AM: Running around the yard! My favorite thing!

10:00 AM: Cuddling on the couch with my person! My favorite thing!

12:00 PM: Lunch! My favorite thing!

1:00 PM: A nap! My favorite thing!

2:00 PM: Playing ball! My favorite thing!

5:00 PM: Dinner! My favorite thing!

6:00 PM: A back rub! My favorite thing!

8:00 PM: Outside! My favorite thing!

11:00 PM: Treats and bedtime! My favorite thing!

The Cat's Day

It's Day 3 of my captivity since the people left and their Youngest Offspring has inhabited the home. I make my displeasure in the changing of the guard clear at irregular but frequent intervals. I get the best reaction when I 'discuss' the matter with Offspring between 0200 hours and 0400 hours. Especially if I enhance the conversation with my claws.

On Day 2, at 1400 hours I caught Offspring dining on fresh packed tuna while the other inmate and myself were left to attempt to stomach some sort of dry protein nuggets. While I make my contempt for the inadequate rations perfectly clear, I reluctantly eat the offerings. I must maintain strength.

I was almost successful in an assassination attempt this morning by weaving around Offspring's feet while she was walking on the slick kitchen floor. Will try again tomorrow, earlier in the morning to capitalize on the pre-coffee fog the Offspring often seems to suffer. And at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the Offspring has brainwashed the other inmate. The dog is a totally flunkie. He is occasionally released, but seems more than willing to return. Obviously retarded. But also seems to be entitled to special privileges, including periodic treats for completing idiotic tasks. Perhaps I will 'consult' with him later on his strategy.

When I sleep on the Offspring's shoulder, she seems to find it endearing and talks to me in the most obnoxious voice and fails to use complete sentences. I endure, and continue to keep my friends close and enemies closer...

First Casualty

2011-01-25T21:45:00.000-06:00

It is with great sorrow that I am here tonight to report to you that marathon training has claimed its first victim: my right pinkie toenail.

It went peacefully and without pain. No blood, no bruising. The nail has simply disappeared. In fact, I can't even pinpoint exactly when it happened.

One down, nine to go. It's gonna be a closed-toe-shoe summer, I think.

Weekend.

2011-01-23T23:53:00.001-06:00

New coffee mug. Sleeping in. Sunshine pouring in the windows. Fresh almond rhubarb coffee cake. Home brewed beer. A long, healthy run. Completed painting. Raucous one-woman dance party (or two or three dance parties!). A Sunday afternoon football game. Fantastic company. Games of fetch. Delivery pizza. Good night phone call.

Happy is so easy to find some days.

Slumber Party

2011-01-16T23:26:00.000-06:00

Host: Myself.

Guest: Willow. A 50-something pound poop-eating, lefse-stealing, ball of anxiety shaped like a yellow dog.

10 pm: Dog so exhausted she cannot even stay on the couch with the rest of the family. Must get on the floor and sigh heavily to ensure that all family members realize she is tired and would like to go to bed.

10:20 pm: Confusion of epic proportions when "Willow's people" go upstairs (where she would normally sleep) and dog is being herded into basement bedroom with perma-squatter (co-owner of dog and home's younger sister-- yours truly).

10:30 pm: Dog must pace like caged lion and blow air and dog snot onto every item at dog level in the room.

10:31 pm: Whines at door.

10:31 pm: Jumps on and then immediately off bed.

10:31 pm: Whines at door.

10:32 pm: Jumps on and then immediately off bed.

10:32 pm: Whines at door.

10:32 pm: Jumps on and then immediately off bed.

10:32 pm: Whines at door.

10:33 pm: Jumps on and then immediately off bed.

10:33 pm: Whines at door.

10:33 pm: Jumps on and then immediately off bed.

10:34 pm: Whines at door.

10:34 pm: Jumps on and then immediately off bed.

10:35 pm: Dog is told "That is quite enough of that!"

10:35 pm: Dog makes sad eyes, lays on the floor.

10:36 pm: I foolishly apologize to dog for asking it to behave and getting results.

10:45 pm: I post photo of Neurot Dog to Facebook, wondering via the internet if this was really a good idea...

11:05 pm: Dog gives in, decides it is tired, and hops into bed. Curls up behind my legs and gives a "happy ending to a happy day" sigh.

11:06 pm: All is peaceful in the kingdom.

Katie International Yellow

2011-01-14T10:56:00.001-06:00

Dear Misters Picasso, Van Gogh, Warhol, Close, and Johns,

You know you guys are "my boys." The ones I can always rely on to make me smile with whimsical subject matter, the perfect use of bold color, and a true talent for making everyday objects and occurrences feel more alive and more beautiful. Nothing can take that away from you and nothing ever will. However, after witnessing an incredible display of the works of Yves Klein at the Walker Art Center last night, I would like us all to consider him for membership in the exclusive Association of Katie's Favorite Creative Artists.

I understand he is not as well known as most of you, but I think his application warrants examination given some very strong characteristics:

1. His talented use of a blow torch. And not to inflict pain upon himself, Mr. Cuts-Off-His-Ears Vincent. Yves (yes, we're on a first name basis) torched some wood-backed cardboard and it turned in to fabulous and provocative pieces that I think highlight how elemental art and design are.

2. He wears a bowtie and at least two out of the three pieces of a three-piece suit while torching. (See above photo for reference).

3. He invented his own color. His own color! And it is named after him: Klein International Blue.

4. He's got a pretty good way with words.

For me, each nuance of a color is in some way an individual, a being who is not only from the same race as the base color, but who definitely possesses a distinct character and personal soul. -- Yves Klein

Overall, gentlemen, I do not believe that Klein's inclusion into the Association will overshadow any of the contributions any of you have made to the art world, and specifically, to my art world.

Please consider my request seriously and provide a response to my inquiry soon. If I am difficult to reach in the next few days, it is simply because I am busy perfecting the formula for Katie International Yellow.

With highest regards,

XOXO,

Katie

The Usefulness of High School English Lit, in Everyday Adult Life

2011-01-05T09:53:00.002-06:00

Author's Note of Warning: This is not really an exciting story. In fact, the first sentence is "Last night I ate an apple."

Last night I ate an apple. A fairly benign, common activity that I engage in almost daily. And a little piece of the skin of the apple got stuck between me teeth. Assured that it would simply dislodge on its own or after I brushed my teeth, I ignored the tiny chunk. After brushing my teeth I noticed it was still firmly lodged between two teeth, just below my gum line. Annoyed, but not really bothered, I went to bed.

All night I would run my tongue across the back of my teeth and feel just the slightest bit of apple peel poking out, taunting my with its refusal to vacate. I started to wonder what might happen to me if I left a piece of apple peel unattended between my bicuspids. And that's when I was jettisoned back 7 years to World Literature in high school when we read the story The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.

In case you haven't read the story, here's the plot in a nutshell: Traveling salesman Gregor Samsa wakes up one morning to find himself no longer man, but rather a large beetle-like bug. As the sole bread winner for his parents and sister, he is unable to keep his job as a traveling salesman.* His family cares for him for a while, but eventually must start working. They also decide to allow lodgers to rent space to stay in their home, leaving Gregor alone in his room for all of his time. At some point, and I can't remember the exact circumstances around it, Gregor's father becomes angry with him or afraid of him and starts throwing apples to scare Gregor back into his room. One of those apples becomes lodged between the plates of exoskeleton on Gregor's back. The apple eventually leads to an infection that contributes to Gregor's death.

Surely, I have placed the dots and you can connect them yourself. And you can see why I might be slightly panicked about the apple peel that has not succumb to vigorous brushing, drinking copious hot and cold fluids, floss, or a toothpick. Gregor was killed by a lodged apple. Though not a beetle, I can only imagine that my demise is coming in much the same manner in a time frame much shorter than I had originally planned.

I never thought it would be death by apple.

*I can't even buy encyclopedias from the Mormon and Jehovah's Witness church members. I certainly would be unlikely to buy much from a beetle.

Ignorance is Definitely, Definitely Bliss

2011-01-04T00:55:00.000-06:00

My feelings about having committed to running a marathon in 2011 are quite mixed. I bounce somewhere between "omigoshthisissoexciting" and "What. The. Hell. Was I thinking?! And why did I tell anyone I was going to do this?"

In my moments of panic I did what I do best: I turned to Google for the answers. Keywords such as first marathon, marathon training, and 26.2 miles led me to a beautiful land full of healthy bodies, comforting and cushioning running shoes, and finisher's medals boldly engraved with personal bests.

Relax, Katie. This is going to be great.

I took the advice of some fitness ladymag to read, read, read everything I could about marathons and training for the big run.

Doing just that this morning, I found the eggshell in the marathon cake (which until that moment I was having, and eating, thankyouverymuch).

Marathon injuries.

My first instinct was to close the browser, grip the hazelnut latte for comfort, and go back to Finisher's Medal Dreamland. But logic told me to "read, read, read."

Blisters. Okay, really? I mean, this makes sense to me. What I considered a relatively benign symptom of training kind of grossed me out when it was recommended that I pop them so as to not "interfere with my training schedule" and even recommended popping them if they occur on race day. Yes, please excuse me while I sit down on the road, sterilize a safety pin, leak the fluid from my feet, and apply a cool, dry bandage to the affected area. Riiiiiight.

Black toenails. "You're running a marathon?! You know all your toenails are going to fall off?" That is all I have heard in the last 4 days since I decided to blab blab blab that I was going to run a marathon. Is this what people think is encouraging? It does, however, seem to be painfully true. All the running websites say the same thing: no worries, it will grow back in 3 to 5 months. Kiss those toenails goodbye. Guess I will be saving on nail polish for the year.

Chafing. Let's be honest (if not a bit grotesquely blunt), by 'chafing' the websites really mean 'bloody nipples.' And maybe some other irritation, but mostly bloody nipples. Luckily, this is a much more common affliction amongst male runners, but I think I might do a little prophylactic taping myself. To be on the safe side. There are some injuries I am willing to sustain (blisters) and some I am not (anything not a blister).

Sprains, Strains, and Stress Fractures (oh my!). It turns out, this is up there with one of the least healthy things an individual can do to their body. As I stated earlier, I am looking at well over 400 miles of running in the next few months. I am bound to do something stupid and hurt myself. On a related topic, running mags tell me my heart will also burst open. Well, fabulous.

Sunburn. Sunburn?! After losing all the nails off of my blistered and swollen feet, hardly hanging on by the strained, sprained, and otherwise broken bones throughout my ankle and foot I am supposed to worry about sunburn?! Moreso than the fact that my heart is going to burst out of chest? Or that the distance is supposedly going to prove to be too great a mental challenge for my 5 mile brain? SPF that. I'll get a sunburn if I want to, lame running ladymag. I have earned the damn sunburn.

Two points of good marathon news: today was Day #1 of training and I went to the gym before work, ran my (very few) miles, and survived. Training for this is easy. So far. Second point of good news: marathoning has made me create a new label for these posts! Wooo! You now have greater filtering capabilities than you had 30 seconds ago.

I mean, that's somethin'.

Au revoir, mes amis. Bonne nuit.

The Requisite New Year Post in Which All Old Things are Redocumented and New Things Dreamed Up 2.0

2010-12-31T15:43:00.001-06:00

Below is an excerpt from the New Year's post I wrote at the beginning of 2010, making my predictions or hopes for the year. After of living the last 365 days, let's compare notes (my new comments will be left in red):

----------
What will 2010 hold? There are a few things I know for almost sure:

Graduate (square hat: check, defend thesis: check, get diploma: check. Fantastic)
Get a big-kid job (kinda, sorta. If you squint and look at it sideways, it's a big kid job)
Run the Buffalo Triathlon (And the Brewhouse too! Also, PR on Buffalo even after a bike collision that sent the bottom half of my leg in a different direction than the top)
Run the Muddy Buddy race with Kim (Ski slopes were meant for skiing. Not biking and running up and down, up and down. Still an awesome time!)
Continue to make art (Even sold a few)
Continue to consider the three mile loop around Lake of the Isles "mine" (Moved to the suburbs, became a gym rat. Consider treadmill 3rd from wall on left, 4th row "mine")
Turn 24 on my golden birthday! (And had a fabulous Uptown birthday party to boot)
face challenges I can probably not even dream of but I feel confident that I can overcome

Hopes for 2010:
I don't really know, actually. I hope that I can be injury-free and successful in my races (well, mostly), that school provides me enough challenge to know that I have earned the degree but not so much that I run fleeing from the University (mostly), that my relationships with family and friends stay strong (I think they got stronger), that something I do (large or small) makes someone happier or relieved for even a moment, that I continue to surprise myself by trying new things and taking calculated, but exhilarating risks (Oh, I surprise myself everyday. Whether I like it or not).

Resolutions? Meh, not really, but if I think about "starting over" in the New Year, there are a few things I would like to try, like: better organization and time management (Sources Unknown. Please Try Again), better/more meaningful communication with friends, and learning to cook awesome food (think more Asian inspired dishes, learning to cook fresh fish, and maybe even an attempt at sushi) (Think: grilled cheese and tomato soup. From a can). I guess I would like to expand my "life learning" in general after 18 solid years of dedicating myself almost solely to academic learning. We'll see what happens.
----------

So, what's in store for 2011?

Well, I will run my 3rd Buffalo Triathlon on June 5. In October I will run my first (and probably last) marathon. I am planning on biting another adulthood bullet and moving into my own place in March/April. Purchase of kitty cat to follow. I certainly hope that 2011 is the year of a permanent, full time job-- this temporary stuff is stressful. There is a potential Spring Break trip to Ft. Myers, FL with two women who have known me for 10 years (10 years!!). I think it is going to be full of promise, excitement, budgeting, fantastic conversation with friends, maybe some heartbreak. I am sure there will be a twisted ankle or shin splint, hurt feelings, and loss. Time will pass like any other year, bringing with it opportunity and wisdom. And more funny stories to tell.

I know I have the good life because every year is better than the one before it. 2011 has big shoes to fill.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Reverb 10.31: Core Story

2010-12-31T14:21:00.004-06:00

December 31-- Core story. What central story is at the core of you, and how do you share it with the world?

Genetics, schmenetics. My blood type was given to me specifically for the way happiness courses through me daily.

B Positive.

And that, I think, is my core story. I looked back through all the reverb prompts, figuring those were a pretty good reflection on the year I have had. If not the events, at least the way the year makes me feel, having survived all 364.5 days of it so far. And despite the honesty about a rough go here and there, the common themes included: a newfound safety in reliance on friends, a continued reliance on perspective about my various situations (living in your sister's basement is better than not having anywhere to live, having a temporary job in your field trumps going back to my barista days), and the huge role that humor and laughter play in my life.

Appreciating life doesn't mean looking at how things could be worse. It means feeling positively about how things are. Just because they are.

Reverb 10.30: Gift

2010-12-30T21:03:00.000-06:00

December 30-- Gift. This month gifts and give-giving can feel inescapable. What's the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year?

This year, I got more than what I wanted. I got exactly what I needed.

The gift of friendship when being my friend isn't easy.

When I am angry. When I am stressed. When I am overexcited. When I am too chatty. When I am making decisions that may later leave my friends picking up the pieces. When I am idealistic. When I am running late.

Friendship stuck in there.

A lot of people say that's what friendship means-- being there even when people aren't at their best and most enjoyable. And while that might be true, I know I am awfully lucky.

Reverb 10.29: Defining Moment.

2010-12-30T20:39:00.002-06:00

December 29-- Defining moment. Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year.

I spent agonizing afternoons looking for the dress that simply stated "I am young and fresh (and a little stylish, to boot!) but I am also ready to face this world as a new professional who acts with maturity and resolve." And I found the dress: a beautifully structured cotton dress with modest neckline, gorgeous bold watercolor floral print, a cute bright yellow belt, and pockets. All dresses should have pockets.

And for all that searching, the little gem sat on a hanger in my room for 6 weeks because I vowed I would not even consider wearing it until the event for which it was purchased.

May 17, 2010 came, and I slid the dress over my recently tanned shoulders and a body that had too long been away from the gym or trails. And then immediately slid a too-big one-size-fits-most black robe right over that beautiful dress, put my round head in a square hat adorned with a salmon pink tassel that clashed with the intense hues so carefully chosen weeks ago. I covered feet that had figuratively and literally run miles and miles over the last two years with a fabulous pair of brown kitten heels and in the blink of an eye, I had taken no more than 20 steps across a dramatically lit stage in Northrup Auditorium at the University of Minnesota, accepted a scroll and alumni gift, and quickly found my seat amongst dozens of other 30 second graduates of the University of Minnesota School of Public Health.

For years I had been joking that I was going to put the MPH in 'triumph' and, in fact, you readers have heard the joke many many times (sorry). But walking across that stage defined what this year has been all about: the passage from one stage of life to the next.

And looking fabulous doing it.

Reverb 10.28: Achieve.

2010-12-28T19:08:00.002-06:00

December 28-- Achieve. What's the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you'll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful?

Achievement of 2011: Own a toaster.

Because owning a toaster means I have moved into my first "own place." Moving in to my own place means I had the financial means to do such a thing. Having the financial means is indicative of one of two things: I have earned and maintained gainful employment and/or have saved and spent savvy enough to afford to live on my own. Gainful employment and saving/spending wisely means I have crossed an important threshold in the journey towards adulthood and greater independence. And this is what 24 year old, bright, well-educated, fabulous young women are supposed to do.

And then I am making Jesus toast. Lots and lots and lots of Jesus toast.

Reverb 10.27: Ordinary Joy.

2010-12-28T19:04:00.002-06:00

December 27-- Ordinary Joy. Our most profound joy is most often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year?

The frenzied typing of a term paper would slow and eventually stop. The last dishes from the dinner meal would be dried and put away. The TV would fall silent after playing the preview for next week's episode of [fill in the guiltiest pleasure reality TV show]. And from all corners of a charming second floor Uptown apartment, my roommates and I (and often Roommate 2.0- one of the boyfriends) would gather around the most sacred space our combine student loans could afford: the kitchen counter. Every night, between 8 and 10 pm (or whenever the last roommate navigated the tiny front stairwell after a long day of class), the three/four of us would sit on the $10 kitchen stools in the bluest of blue kitchens and have our "kitchen counter pow wow."

At the time, they didn't seem anything special. They weren't even really a scheduled event. But somehow, a block of time-- at least 30 minutes-- found its way between class schedules, long nights at work, piles of homework, and social engagements. And this time, sometimes stretching hours and going way past bedtime on a school night, is the time I got to know my roommates best. Sometimes we just talked about our day: how great/awful our classes were, the weirdos on the bus, a planned 8 mile run that turned into 3 miles and a latte instead. Sometimes we talked about more serious things: heartbreak, how we imagined our future lives, things that scared us, things we were excited about. Sometimes we watched YouTube videos so many times we could quote them for months following. One time we broke into "MmBop" by Hanson. Always we appreciated knowing that someone was checking in to make sure we were each okay, all separated from our families by the drive to earn post-grad degrees. Always we appreciated the different views each of us brought to the kitchen counter.

Each night I understood these women better than the night before, each night our friendship became stronger, each night we laughed, and each night we made an unspoken commitment that no matter how crazy our lives got, there was always time to say "Hey, I am thinking about you and I hope you had a good day."

100 Reads: Three Cups of Tea

2010-12-26T09:19:00.000-06:00

I recently finished Three Cups of Tea, that tells the story of Minnesota native Greg Mortenson and how his failure to climb K2 is changing the world. Mortenson starting working to build schools in Pakistan, and particularly schools that will educate girls, when he had hardly any money and was sleeping in his car. He earned the respect of many people worldwide, and most importantly in the Muslim communities of Pakistan. While some did not trust the big American, many welcomed him and did as much as they could to convince Mortenson to build one of his famous schools in their village.

Mortenson's story is an inspiring lesson in many ways: with nothing but passion and a reason to act, one can achieve many things; you cannot (and do not have to) do things by yourself; you can make big change with few traditional resources; despite cultural and religious differences, all people want a better life for their children; and it is so important to educate girls.

I haven't yet decided what book from the list to read next, but with 70 to go, I don't think lack of options is my problem!

Happy page-turning!

Reverb 10.26: Soul Food.

2010-12-26T09:06:00.001-06:00

December 26-- Soul food. What did you eat this year that you will never forget? What went in to your mouth and touched your soul?

Now, I am positive that the following answer was not at all what this author was hoping to inspire out of all the Reverb-ers out there. But this is something I will certainly not forget for a very long time.
---

November 11 is Veteran's Day and as a government employee, I have to take the day off whether I like it or not. This year it was on a Thursday, awkwardly interrupting my week and forcing me to try to be productive on the lonely Friday workday that would follow.

So, in Mugwump fashion, I griped about having to take the day off. I waxed on quite dramatically about how I would MUCH rather take the Friday off instead, and since I am not a veteran, should I really get a day off at all?

By the afternoon of the preceding Wednesday, I had warmed to the idea of a whole day off from work (guilt free!) and even made a few plans so I didn't spend my day off on the couch eating tortilla chips.

But all of that changed with the most fateful and unforgettable lunch of 2010: pre-packaged sushi. At 2 AM on November 11, I awoke with a mild crampy stomach and stretched myself and tried to go back to sleep. 10 minutes later, the pain was unbearable and had me balled into the fetal position. Shortly after, I found myself crying into the toilet bowl, vomiting the entire contents of my stomach. Like clockwork through the morning, I would wake up on the hour and vomit the meager contents of my stomach, until about 7 AM when I simply dry heaved until I could no longer take it. I tried to drink water to stay hydrated, but to no avail. It was simply expelled with the next hourly installment of the Great Gastrointestinal Cleanse of 2010. And that continued for most of my vacation day, which I ended up spending on the couch, now totally exhausted, unable to eat or drink, too weak to move, and most distressing: hungry.

I wasted my whole day of forced vacation, had to take the following Friday off from work as well, and felt generally like a greasy pile of sludge (and HUNGRY) through the entire weekend.

I haven't gone in to every detail about those four days, particularly the heaving of Day 1, because I'd be shocked if you would stay and read through all of that. It's not very "holiday spirit" of me either, particularly for those of you who may have overindulged on the Christmas cookies and baked hams and are feeling a little gut-busty yourselves. But let me tell you, while I think the author was looking for me to share a story of some exotic food discovery or to confess about the day I fell in love with Chobani greek yogurt, this sushi really touched my soul this year.

All 28 intestinal feet of my soul.

Reverb 10.25: Photo.

2010-12-25T14:28:00.001-06:00

December 25-- Photo- a present to yourself. Sift through all of the photos of you from the past year. Choose the one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you.

Photo credit: Dad

June 6, 2010. Buffalo, Minnesota. Buffalo Triathlon, sprint distance.

What does this photo reveal about me, besides that I am a bit of a Tubby Trotter?

I design good shoes. Despite their minor role in the photo, check out those babies! Fantastic.
"Happy" comes pretty easily.
I see a good photo op coming and I take it!
Despite being relatively out of shape and suffering a minor, but tears-inducing, bike crash earlier on the course, I didn't quit. I am not a quitter (and the medal was shiny and you only get one if you cross the finish line on your own power).
I don't look good in bike shorts. At all.
I imagine I will continue to spend all kinds of money so I can keep running in circles at events like these. The feeling of being this close to the finish line and then crossing it never really gets old.

Merry Christmas, everyone! XOXO

Reverb 10.24: Everything's OK.

2010-12-25T14:04:00.000-06:00

December 24-- Everything's OK. What's the best moment that could serve as proof that everything is going to be alright? And how will you incorporate that discovery into the year ahead?

storypeople.com

Knowing everything is going to be okay happens as soon as you let go of searching for that 'one moment.' I don't need a defining moment to tell me I am doing okay. I am not asking for permission to feel like life is turning out just fine. That which did not kill me may or may not have made me stronger. The point is, it didn't kill me. So, everything must be okay.

Reverb 10.23: New Name.

2010-12-23T19:23:00.002-06:00

December 23-- New name. Let's meet again, for the first time. If you could introduce yourself to strangers by another name for just one day, what would it be and why?

What do you mean, I can't call myself Princess Perfect Pants with Hair of Golden Waves and Charming Personality?

Well... Katie, then.

Reverb 10.22: Travel.

2010-12-22T19:48:00.005-06:00

December 22--Travel. How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year?

Plane (to DC for a fantastic Labor Day Weekend). Train (to work every day). Automobile (to Duluth and Grand Marais for camping, for coffee with good friends, to go my parents' for an opportunity to refresh myself). Bipedal (across the graduation stage, around the lakes, on the never-ending treadmill).

How would I like to travel next year? Extravagantly. How will I travel? Plane, train, automobile, and bipedal I imagine. And I have no idea where I am going. Boy, isn't that an understatement...

Reverb 10.21 (Bonus Edition): Future Self.

2010-12-22T09:54:00.001-06:00

This is my letter to my younger self, as per the bonus question to yesterday's Reverb. It made me realize, in many ways, I am glad I didn't know then what I know now.

I started to write to my former self (maybe not former, but younger), and found it is hard to write a letter to your teenaged-self without crushing all of her hopes and dreams. It's not like I can give her all the factual knowledge I have-- imagine such a letter: "Dear 14 year old self, you are currently the most awkward being on the planet. This will get better, but not much." And how do you begin to explain things like Facebook, Twitter, blogging, and smartphones. Isn't there an app for writing to your teenaged self?!

And on a more serious note, ten years ago 14-year-old Katie had not experienced an attack on her own country, had not watched a hurricane devastate a huge part of her country's history and culture, had not yet felt the political and religious ripples of the death of a pope and subsequent election of a new pope. She had not yet experienced the relaxed beach culture of Australia, strolled the tree-lined and history-ladened boulevards of Paris, or walked along a ditch in Guatemala tangibly feeling poverty she didn't even know existed. But I can't tell her these things.

I can't tell her that the best friend she's about to meet is going to be at her grad school graduation ten years later, still one of the biggest champions on Team Katie. She needs to work hard (and send a hundred emails) to make that friendship work. I can't tell her about falling in love. And then out of it. And then back in again. And I can't describe to her the feelings of being a part of the fabulous love stories as friends quietly tell you "(S)he's the one," take their engagement photos, and get married. I can't tell her how honored she'll be to squeeze herself into some, um... interesting bridesmaids dresses. These are all the bonus rewards of being a good friend but I don't want her to work hard to be a good friend just for a closet full of interesting dresses.

I can't tell her about all the times she's about to get hurt, physically and emotionally. She'll be too afraid to try anything new. And if 14 year-old Katie is anything like current Katie, she is especially worried about things that might hurt her face. And her pride. I don't want to rob her of the anticipation bottled up in a single envelope by telling her that she gets in to almost every grad school she applies for admission. I don't want to ruin the magic of a first date by telling her "This one doesn't work out. Or this one. Or this one. Nope, not that one either." I can't tell her everything is going to be fine, because even if for only a fleeting moment, sometimes things are not.

So what can I tell my 14 year-old self for the years ahead?

Dear Katie,

This life is fabulous. And you are fabulous in it. Be surprised, be scared, be happy, and be angry. Have days where you don't want to get out of bed and have days where you greet every living thing on the street. Send mail. Cry in front of other people and be forgiving and understanding when they cry in front of you. Be a good friend, always. If you can do these things, you will be truly living, regardless of the events happening around you. Life can happen to you, or you can participate in it. Unlike many of the challenges you will face, there is a right answer: participate. And participate fully.

This life is fabulous. And you are fabulous in it.

XOXO
Katie

Reverb 10.21: Future Self.

2010-12-21T10:25:00.001-06:00

December 21-- Future Self. Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?)

Dear Katie,
You have worked hard to get to where you are. Probably harder in the last few years than ever before, as new tasks and challenges presented themselves quite boldly and the answers didn't always come to you as naturally and easily as they once had. But that's okay because these challenges have been so good for you. They have provided you with a new perspective on what (and who) really matter. They have given you a new patience and grace with people while also reminding you that life is simply too wonderful to waste holding grudges and being angry.

While I refuse to tell you (me?) that "your real life is about to start" because everything up until this point has really been real life, I will tell you that you are balancing on the cusp of big things. Or, in triathlon terms, you are at the transition between the swim and the bike. You have survived a tough part, but there are still big hills to climb and rocky roads. There might even be a flat tire, but you can fix it. Above all, there are always other cyclists. You can always ask for help and no one who loves you is going to be disappointed that you didn't have the right answer or all of the resources. You are still young; forgive yourself the way others forgive you.

Continue working hard and do not get discouraged. Lots of things will change: your job, where you live, who you hang out with, your favorite TV show, the song that makes you drum the steering wheel. There are, however, some things about you that are just truth. Whether you like it or not. You are blunt and honest and that will please some and offend many. You are uninhibited with your stories and bring an inextinguishable energy to discussion. You are a good friend and in return you have earned the respect and love of many people who need you in much the same way that you need them. Hold tight to these truths, and do not put energy into changing them. They are the fibers of Katie, just as much as your Great-grandpa Lyle's big blue eyes, your mother's sensitivity to animals, your father's love for belly laughs, and that crazy head of messy curls that is uniquely you.

Hang in there kid.

XOXO
(Future) Katie

Reverb 10.20: Beyond Avoidance.

2010-12-20T09:40:00.000-06:00

December 20-- Beyond Avoidance. What should you have done this year but didn't because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: will you do it?)

I am sure the last 11 months and 20 days presented me with opportunities I could have done, but as the year plays out its very last days, I can confidently and honestly write that I don't think there is anything else I should have done that would have moved mountains or changed my life.

Of course, there's some usual players in the woulda-coulda-shoulda game. I should have saved more money. I should have logged more miles on the trail/bike/treadmill. I should have applied for more jobs. I should have networked harder. I should have eaten more lettuce and less chocolate. I should have done more laundry and I should have stopped procrastinating.

Those of you who know me well know I am much more apt to do something I shouldn't have than not do something I should have. Happy to report that this only happened a handful of times this year, and I usually recognized it immediately the next morning. Ugh. I should have stopped a beer or two earlier. And a lot of the other "shouldn't do but I am going to anyway" moments have turned in to some of the best stories of the year. So despite what is beginning to feel like Reverb10's way of trying to make me repent for all of the ways I was a horrible human last year and make me vow to right myself in time for 2011, I have no regrets about the woulda-coulda-shouldas from 2010.

Reverb 10.19: Healing.

2010-12-19T21:32:00.001-06:00

December 19-- Healing. What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you liked to be healed in 2011?

I am assuming the author of this prompt is looking for something a little deeper, and a little more spiritual than "Three Buck Chuck. The Merlot, please."

Okay, just let me put this glass down and get to thinking and a-ticka-typing.

Laughter. Laughing in celebration. Laughing in disbelief. Laughing so hard I cried and crying so hard I laughed. Making friends and family laugh. Laughing at home, laughing at work, and sending a hearty 'LOL' in response to a well-told joke sent many miles via text. Sometimes it's a sudden outburst of laughter that makes you spit your coffee across the table and sometimes it's a story that starts a tickle in your toes and rolls in to a giant belly laugh that just won't subside.

I guess I could look for something else to heal myself with next year-- maybe I could start becoming more one with my mindsoulbody by starting yoga or drink seaweed smoothies to literally heal myself when I am ill.

But laughing rarely has me bent with my butt in my air and my head tucked behind my ankles and it never makes me gag (although sometimes I might sputter, but you'd have to tell a heck of a knock knock joke). It's pretty cheap, easy to come by, and has worked so well, that I think I might stick with it in 2011.

Reverb 10.18: Try.

2010-12-19T21:00:00.012-06:00

December 18--What do you want to try next year? Is there something you wanted to try in 2010? What happened when you did/didn't go for it?

I am going to skip the second part of this question, except gloss it over really quickly with this statement: In 2010 I tried mostly at finishing school and finding and excelling in a fledgling career. In all that chaos, I tried feverishly to hold tight to friendships changed by geography, new priorities, and a more 'adult' routine (oh, 9-5 life, you can make me so exhausted). 2010 was not a year of going out on a limb. Rather it was a year of letting the tree grow just a little, but hanging pretty tightly to the roots.

There's lots of things to try in 2011:

Saving money for experiences rather than things.
Keeping my things organized. Keeping my time more organized.
Complete triathlon #4 (maybe #5 too).
Run a 10K (that's 6.2 miles for you English-system lovers).
Patience (but I probably give this up on January 6).
Eating mushrooms? We'll see...

I bet there is a lot more to try in the 365 days that are about to come at me. The biggest thing is to try not to say no to great opportunities. Inhale every breath of adventure, soak up all the knowledge that is presented before me, and make the most of the good and bad in those around me.

Reverb 10.17: Lesson Learned.

2010-12-19T20:32:00.000-06:00

December 17-- Lesson Learned. What is the best lesson you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward?

I am a tugboat.

Despite the rainy days or stormy seas, I have a job to do. I am not an imposing presence, but I am adequate and surprisingly strong. Some days the waves make it impossible to see the shore, but I know it is there. Sometimes the rope between myself and the ships I guide becomes so taut it momentarily pulls me backward, out to sea. But it never snaps or unravels. And I always make it to dock.

Reverb 10.16: Friendship.

2010-12-16T20:21:00.001-06:00

December 16-- How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was the change gradual, or a sudden burst?

My friends have done something much more incredible this year; they have pulled off almost the miraculous.

The have changed my perspective of myself and yet left me wholly intact and still loving myself, maybe even more than before.

There's a glamorous side to having had the blessing to be successful in many of the things I have tried in life: the accomplishments. And that's what those around you focus on; professors dote on you, employers promote you and talk about how fabulous you are as an employee and a member of the team. You get awards and you win prizes and get to read your name in the paper and people talk about you. You appear to be a never-ending chain of gold stars.

And there's a dark side to it: the pressure. You inevitably become a robot to other people; someone with a perfect (or darn close) track record and suddenly not only is it unexpected that you would falter, it is not allowed. Or at least, it feels that way. So for most of my life, and it certainly still continues, I have worked to always be a success. Successful at school, successful at work, successful in being happy, successful in getting my ducks in a row (or successful in making them appear so). And it pays great dividends in all areas of life, including friendship. And in my mind, no one wanted to be friends with a failure and I was so caught up in my life as someone successful that I didn't know what else I brought to a friendship rather than my accomplishments. And best yet, I was even fairly accomplished at making and keeping friends.

In case you haven't picked up on the pervasive theme of my Reverb writing, 2010 was a beautiful but really tough year. Big hurdles. And many times I found myself not successful anymore. I fell behind on my masters project more than once. I battled a somewhat serious lapse in mental health when insane pressure from school and saying goodbye to someone very important to me happened at the exact same time. I have failed to find success in landing a permanent position in my field. In fact, I have missed this success in exactly (checking email records) 46 online applications, 4 mailed applications, 2 phone interviews, 1 personal interview, 12 rejection letters, and 2 rejection phone calls. I have failed to find success in achieving true financial independence, but I think I might be too poor to "test the success waters."

An especially poignant memory of friends from this past year occurred right in the middle of the mental health lapse I mentioned. A classmate was living in a beautiful home in small-town Wisconsin and over Spring Break several of us drove out there for a classic Irish St. Patrick's Day dinner, wine, perfect chats, and a old-fashioned slumber party. For days up until this trip I had been terribly sad and terribly stressed. I hadn't slept at all, I hadn't eaten well, I showered maybe once in four days and I am not sure I used soap. The energy it took to just pack up and commit to go out there for one night was enormous. I couldn't give my friends the focus they deserved; I hardly participated in anything more involved than nodding to their conversation while scratching the cat's belly. I had totally checked out of my whole world. And I noticed that that didn't bother them. I told them what was going on, there may have been some tears, and they simply wrapped me up in a kind of support that said "You could do anything and this-- right here-- this is always going to exist."

And that sort of Aha! moment made me see the same in the other friendships I had. And it didn't matter if I won first place, tripped over my feet all the way to the finish line, or simply said "Forget it. I don't want to do this"*, all of my friends were really the truest sort and were going to forgive the little things and love me just the same. And it allowed me to forgive the little things and love myself just the same.

It's not a different perspective on the world--I still feel horribly confused about the state of affairs on our orbiting ball. But it's a different perspective on myself that will likely change my world and the way I act in it.

* Although, most of them know I would really never quit anything.

Reverb 10.15: 5 Minutes.

2010-12-15T11:19:00.000-06:00

December 15-- 5 Minutes. Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010.

This list is not entirely comprehensive, as I only had 5 minutes for a heck of a year. The last item is sort of a catch-all.

Best New Year's kick off ever (subsequent 4 day hangover/moviefest less fabulous, but still great story). Graduation. Tubing down the Apple River-- getting ridiculously sunburnt the first time and battling a thunderstorm and ultra-slow river the second. Golden birthday celebration. Roomies' birthday celebrations. Break up celebrations. Celebrations. The rush of relief upon hearing "You have finished your Masters of Public Health with no revisions to your final paper." Selling my artwork. Beautiful weddings. Excited phone calls from some of my most favorite people announcing their engagements. Recently, a Snowmaggedon/Tsnownami/Snowpacolypse. A big kid job and then a bigger kid promotion. Excelling at that job and starting to make a teeny tiny name for myself. Happy.

Reverb 10.14: Appreciate.

2010-12-15T11:16:00.001-06:00

December 14-- Appreciate. What's the one thing you have come to appreciate the most in the past year? How do you express gratitude for it?

This one's easy: Coffee maker. Next question.

Just kidding (sort of).

I actually was thinking about this prompt yesterday while I was at work.* I was in a meeting with most of the people in branch (one level up from my team/division) and not surprisingly, it was all women. There are approximately 65 people in our department and about 6 men. Such is the typical make up of public health.

What I noticed in this group, moreso than I had noticed in my co-workers before, was that this was a group of very smart, dedicated women. Every one of us at the table had worked hard to get where she is, has immense passion for what she does, and contributes in a meaningful way to the health of her community and the overall wellness of the people around her. We were also discussing the budget ~~issues~~ ~~crisis~~ ~~absolute disaster~~ sinkhole Minnesota will be facing this session and how, right now, our departmnet budget is intact and semi-stable but how cuts in other areas (education, transportation, housing) will likely impact the work we do. I loved being a part of this roundtable of bright women who are politically active, engaged in their community and engaging in conversation, and that's is when it hit me what I have remembered to appreciate most this year: strong women.

Given the personalities of the women in my family, I think "strong woman" was a behavior and personality type modeled before me from a very early age. But it can be easy to lose sight of that as we travel through life, particularly the young adult years, where feminine behavior seems be regarded as more important and 'becoming' on a lady.

Luckily, my year has been absolutely filled to the brim of strong women. There's the other fabulous ladies in my masters program who were instrumental fibers in the safety net of support I built for myself while also busting their butts to complete their own studies. My project advisory committee included two women who I respect like mad for the things they had accomplished, the way they faced their own lives with incredible balance, and reminded me that no project and no degree is worth losing sight of who I am and not worth (too many) sleepless nights and temper tantrums. And I already gushed about my workplace, but I honestly can't turn a corner in the office without running in to a woman I admire greatly. And of course, the women in my family continue to remind me that I am just one in a long legacy of independent, strong-willed, and frankly, brilliant, women. My mom-- she's beautifully human and not at all ashamed about it; she's everyone's rock.**

The best way to show gratitude for these women/role models/superheroes of my world is to continue the tradition. To show through my actions and accomplishments that their influence on me has been great and I plan to do remarkable things with what I have learned from their example. Watch out, world.

* I was multitasking, not daydreaming.
** One sentence, and then tears. See? Overly emotional. All the time.

Reverb 10.13: Action.

2010-12-15T11:09:00.000-06:00

December 13-- Action. When it comes to aspirations, it's not about ideas. It's about making ideas happen. What's your next step?

Well, it's a little about ideas. I have to have some ideas about where I'm going and how I want to get there. Getting there by train, plane, or automobile will look much different than traveling via my own bipedal power.

I don't know entirely where I am going. I have some places I would like to go (the usual: permanent job, my own apartment, new-to-me car, big friendly dog), but I know putting all those ideas in a basket when you're not feeling terribly close to any one of them is a bit like planning an oceanliner cruise when all you can really afford is a dinghy on a trout pond.

I have noticed that some of the 'action' I have wanted to take in the past, but for some reason could not master, has sort of fallen into place in the last few months. While my personal space is still a total disaster, I am a much more organized person. I am capable of getting things done (and on time), and I making time to be responsible. I even started paying more attention to my personal budget. It's not a sexy, dreamy "change your life and write a book about it" action, but it is changing my life in a little but needed way. For people who are chronically responsible, I imagine that it is shocking to you to discover that some of us don't learn/utilize these skills until 24.

As I write this, the task list on my new phone is chastising me for being tardy on a task with an arbitrary deadline I set for myself. It just asked, "How about it, Tiger? Are you ready to get started?"

The somewhat, maybe a little, kinda "sexy, dreamy" action I would like to take next year is working a little more on marketing and selling my artwork. I get nervous about this; I don't really know (objectively) if I am actually any good and I have no idea if anyone besides my friends will buy it. But I have nearly saturated the friend market, and I really want to continue. I also get nervous about making something I love into something I do to earn money. I don't ever want art to feel like "work." After the new year, I am planning on starting by putting a few items up on Etsy, try and figure out what a fair price is (it is certainly not what I have been charging-- everyone is getting deals deals deals outta me), and figure out if I can carve out a corner of a new market for myself. This will also require me to learn how to ship very large canvases (assuming someone buys something). I look forward to that challenge!

Reverb 10.12: Body Integration.

2010-12-12T10:43:00.001-06:00

December 12-- Body Integration. This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn't mind and body, but simply a cohesive you, alive and present?

Gosh, it is such a pain in the ass when your alarm goes off in the morning and you wake up to find that your body has been doing it's own thing for the last few hours, stumbling about without guidance and direction, making messes and bruises galore. Worse yet when you find yourself on the train after a long day at work, and have misplaced your mind completely.

Hmmm. Perhaps I am missing something here. Am I living an overly integrated life?

My mind and body are not two independent entities that work apart from one another and occasionally sit down to a tea party to discuss the ways in which they could work together more efficiently. They are two functions of a whole; the cohesive me.

I can make changes to the way my body feels, moves, and looks by making decisions to eat this (or not) and go for a run (or not). My mind is healthier and happier when my body gets a chance to move and when it tastes the nectars of fresh fruits and vegetables. They are far from independent, and in fact are highly interdependent. They do not need to work to integrate; they were designed to be a partnership and it works on an instinctual level.

There is always a cohesive me.

Reverb 10.11: 11 Things.

2010-12-11T21:12:00.000-06:00

December 11-- What are 11 things your life doesn't need in 2011? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these things change your life?

There is a lot the world doesn't need in 2011 (in no particular order):

1. Religious (or any other) intolerance
2. Violence against girls and women
3. Child soldiers
4. Inadequate clean water supplies to most of the world's impoverished
5. Corporate corruption
6. Hate crime
7. Hunger
8. Fear of one's own government
9. Preventable diseases killing hundreds because of lack of health care and lack of clean living conditions
10. Sexual violence as a weapon of war and means of control
11. Blame

The things I don't need? Well, they're just things...

Reverb 10.10: Wisdom.

2010-12-10T15:58:00.000-06:00

December 10-- Wisdom. What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out?

You have a drawer full of unmatch socks from which you have managed to free one black sock. Now, in a fury of flying stockings, you are frantically digging for the other black sock, brushing your teeth, still pulling your pants on the rest of the way and cursing those extra nine minutes of awful sleep you took the liberty of allowing yourself.

My wise choices are the other black sock: elusive in a big assortment of bad choices, neutral choices, and well-that-was-fun-but-let's-not-ever-do-it-agains.

2010 has a clear pair of black socks: applying for a summer internship with a local health department and getting a gym membership.

I starting looking and applying for jobs in March, knowing that things were a bit slow and for a lot of organizations that I would be interested in working with, grant dollars would be uncertain and limited. The idealist almost-grad in me (almost Master!) was holding out for the high paying full-time, permanent positions that I knew had to be out there. So when I saw the posting for a summer internship in public health preparedness for a local health department, I glossed right over it. I had convinced myself I was beyond interning and part time jobs and no financial security. As the job search got bleaker and bleaker and more classmates and professors sent me the same job notice with "Perfect for you!" in the subject line, I decided to take a stab and sent in a roughshod resume and cover letter.

Two weeks later I interviewed. Two days later I was hired for the three month summer internship with no benefits, but actually pretty good pay. Today, I have finished my first week in a promoted position with the same department. Still no benefits, still a temporary position (ending next July). But that is still 8 more months on top of the 6 previous months of gauranteed employment and experience. Invaluable to a young professional. And I got a pay raise, which could not have come soon enough as I stare down the barrel of beginning my student loan repayment next month.

The matching wise decision I made this year was to purchase a gym membership. To run.

I get on a bicycle now and then, and I occasionally dip my toes in the pool. I have even treated my lovely self to 20 minutes in the eucalyptus sauna.

But I really go to run. And of its contribution to my health and well being 20% is physical and 80% is mental. I have discussed previously how emotionally intense I can be, and I once mathematically characterized it to a friend who couldn't quite understand where I was coming from. Imagine you can experience/feel any emotion on a spectrum, let's say from 1 to 10. 1 being a slight recognition that there is a feeling, but it is so faint you aren't even sure what emotion it is. 10 being feeling every emotion via some physical manifestation; pain when I am angry or sad, restlessnes when I am joyful or scared, and fatigue when I am sad or frustrated. I would venture to guess that most people can feel emotion at all levels of the spectrum, depending on the situational context.

I am only capable of 1, 2, and 10. And 1 & 2 is like what I buzz along in when I am in traffic. Or at my cube. So anything that elicits any actual emotion in me is experienced at a 10. Every time. And that is exhausting, even when it's good emotion. And you can't operate at a 10 all the time, so instead you either sleep so as to feel nothing or you share the burden with other people, which can be distressing and exhausting for them. Running lets me leave a lot of that on trail/track/treadmill. It is the great mental and emotional equalizer; it allows me to calm down, to think about things rationally, and evaluate before I pull people into the storm.

Every pounding footstep pushes down fear and anger, every drip of sweat washes away sadness and stress, and the constant motion allows me to appropriately use up the energy that joy and nervousness build up inside me. For 35 bucks a month, I get some awesome mental health benefits, with some physical health fringe benefits. If I didn't run, I would likely have to pay someone 35 bucks an hour for the same results!

Reverb 10.9: Party.

2010-12-09T10:43:00.001-06:00

December 9-- Party. What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010? Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans.

Oooh! I do so love a good party!

2010 has been kind of a fete-filled year and with so much cause for celebration. It's certainly hard to pick a favorite: I loved celebrating a close friend's wedding to a man who adores her in one of the most beautiful and elaborate weddings I have ever seen. I loved eating dinner with my family at my favorite Dinkytown haunt, the Loring Pasta Bar, after graduation. I loved the intimacy of sharing a glass of wine with my high school best friend after I defended my Masters in October. She has now been through 4 of my graduations (if you count Masters defense as it's own-- which I think it deserves). I loved being able to wish someone well as they took a great step forward on their journey, even if I hated the goodbye. I loved the raucousness and craziness of New Years, bachelorette parties, and birthdays. I loved the hangovers less.

I love the clinking glass of a good "Cheers!", whether it is between myself and one other person or a roomful of friends and strangers alike. There is simply so much worth celebrating.

In 2010 I celebrated my Golden Birthday and that, for me, was the best fete of the year. I bought myself a new black dress with gold detailing around the neckline and down the front of dress. I bedazzled my fingers and toes with a nail polish aptly named "Gilty Pleasure." I made reservations for dinner for 20 at my favorite Uptown haunt, Stella's Fish Cafe and we had a delicious dinner appetizers, seafoods, and soups. I blew out the candles on a Transformers-themed DQ ice cream cake and carried the figurines in my faux-snake skin purse for the rest of the evening. The night was not terribly wild and crazy; it was just some of my closest friends visiting my favorite bars in the neighborhood I had grown to love in the previous 14 months and would be leaving (heavy-hearted) the following afternoon. I had my first booze-infused milkshake and sipped on a Minnesota Nice. I inhaled a beautiful summer view of Minneapolis from the buzzing rooftop bars. It was entirely blissful.

I had a lot going on at that time. I was still working feverishly to finish my Masters project while trying to be a model employee in my internship and look for full time, permanent work. I was moving away from the women and the neighborhood I adored because it was the right and responsible financial decision. But for that night, all I had to worry about was relishing that I had survived another year, I had good friends that loved me, and whether or not my glass was full.

It was so fun, in fact, I am thinking about having a birthday again next year.

Reverb 10.8: Beautifully Different.

2010-12-08T13:28:00.000-06:00

December 8-- Beautifully Different. Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different and you'll find they're what make you beautiful.

As a young(er) woman, I think I got a little caught up in the common mindset that beauty equals perfection. When you had achieved physical perfection (as defined by a very unclear, semi-unrealistic set of standards) and could do everything and be everything to everyone, then you were beautiful. And it turns out, attempting that and inevitably failing, is exhausting. Sorry Chaka Khan/Whitney Houston, I'm not every woman.

Happily, I can report that at the infinitely wise age of 24, there are a million things I haven't learned and that I don't do well (yet), but I have learned to recognize that I am beautiful. And further, I have recognized that it's not immodest to know that I am beautiful and to act with the confidence and poise of a beautiful woman.

Let's pretend that junior high never happened, am I right, ladies and gentlemen? There was very little about my awkwardly morphing (and yet still chubby) body, my good (but occasional backstabbing) group of friends, or the fact that I was smart and did well in school that screamed 'beauty' to my junior high self.

The earnest journey towards discovering my beauty really started when I arrived in Fargo, North Dakota as a wide-eyed and semi-panicked freshman at North Dakota State University. As the mature 'adult' I thought I was at hardly 18 years old, I was determined to take all the best parts of me and fashion them into the young woman I really wanted to be. She looked sort of like a mix of Oprah Winfrey, Katie Couric, and Mother Theresa, except probably a little sassier and less organized.

And then I fell for this boy. And the independent, strong woman in me cringes at the idea of giving any mere man credit for anything I have done, particularly a journey so focused on self-discovery. But the honest, realistic woman in me knows that our relationships give dividends far greater than our investment, including the opportunity to look at ourselves the way someone else sees us. And for the first time, I really looked at myself through the perspective of someone who thought smart was sexy, saw my creativity as true talent, and understood that my ~~rare~~ ~~occasional~~ somewhat frequent emotional outbursts (whether it was manic joy, crushing devastation, or red-hot anger) were simply part of being human and he tolerated me with patience and grace, the two qualities I most severely lack and most desperately need a partner. Above all, that relationship taught me that I deserve to be treated well, especially by the men who are lucky enough to capture my attention. It also taught me that those things that I was most self-conscious about were the best parts about me because they weren't perfect (yet) and my flaws were the most human part of me.

The journey towards discovering beauty within myself didn't end on the same crisp, fall day that that relationship 'ended'.* It actually intensified, as I was left (and now feeling a bit alone) to redefine my adult self without that other person reminding me of all that I had accomplished, all I was capable of, and how fantastic I looked in a black dress with heels. I was going to be responsible for my own self-assurance and for maintaining my own confidence.

And it turns out that wasn't so hard (although, I will give College Boyfriend some serious credit for helping to lay the foundation). And I could probably list for you several things I think are beautiful about myself: the ability to feel emotion super intensely, to talk to anyone about anything, to recognize that, sometimes, the one thing I need is my famous one woman dance party, an undying desire to give more, and some wicked blue eyes and out of control curly hair. But, like most things, the journey to beautiful has been much more meaningful.

Occasionally I pick up on hints that some of my friends might be in the throes of their very own journey to beautiful, and I hope that my openness and honesty about truly feeling beautiful and love love loving my flaws is shedding some light on their journey as well. And this is not to suggest that my journey is over, by any means. It is a constantly evolving process of learning to first accept and then appreciate the things and situations and people that were not as you expected or wanted them to be. When I let go of my expectations of things, they often turn out better than I could have imagined. And when I let go of the expectations of myself, I am turning out better than I imagined!

*It didn't really end, but simply officially became what it was turning into for some time, which was a ridiculously supportive and fabulous friendship.

Reverb 10.7: Community.

2010-12-07T13:48:00.001-06:00

Still waiting for Reverb 10 to lob a meatball prompt sometime in the near future. Something super simple, like "What was your favorite color in 2010?" Any my response would be "Yellow. Duh." Nice and easy, not something that I think about all night, no epic drafts/edits/rewrites. Nothing that makes me question the year I have had.

"What's wrong with orange, Katie? Why didn't you really love orange this year? Are you giving orange a chance? Maybe you need to focus some more time on orange... you could be surrounding yourself with other yellow lovers and never really experiencing a full spectrum of colors and their fans."

Well, maybe I can lull myself into guilt about nearly any topic. Gosh, I am so talented.

Today's prompt, however, still has me ~~somewhat~~ totally stumped.

December 7-- Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create, or more deeply connect with in 2011?

I don't know that I belong in any ultra-formal 'communities' with things like rules for membership, expectations of members, dues, and all that other organizational hoopla other than my friends (Rules for Membership: You are fabulous, sometimes funny, mostly genuine, can make and/or eat good food and hold your liquor) and family (Dues: More than financial, pop up at surprising times, and a yet a worthwhile investment in the people who know you best).

There have been numerous times this year, however, that I have had that sense of belonging that comes from being a part of a whole, even if it isn't a well-defined entity. I felt a sense of community amongst the dedicated group of men and women who were all working diligently towards the completion of our Masters degrees. I feel a sense of community with people I talk to who have recently graduated, and like me are a little at a loss for what to do now (even if we have jobs. This transition is the biggest culture shock I have experienced to date). I am beginning to sneak my way into the local public health preparedness professionals community, and even though I still have a lot to learn and a long way to go, I think I am getting a pretty good start.

When I participate in [insert any running/multisport event you can think of here], there is a strong sense of community and belonging. On the morning of a race, you ARE a runner/triathlete and there is a collective prayer for safety and well-being of everyone on the course, a collective heartbreak when someone is injured, and collective triumph when the last racer crosses the finish line.

And then there are the silly little things that contribute to community everywhere you go: the cashier and barista at Caribou know my name*, the sandwich shop in the skyway knows my order (Grilled Ham/Cheese/Tomato Sandwich and a bowl of Tomato Soup, medium soda), the people at the gym ask me how my workout is going, fellow commuters on the train make small talk on the crowded evening rides home, the neighbors wave from their driveway or bring over homemade jams/breads/streudels**.

Community, for me, is more than a little difficult to perfectly define. But that sense of belonging is easy to feel and I've definitely got some of that goin' for me!

Oh, also, in 2011 I would like to be the 6th Planeteer. Don't know what that is? You clearly were not, or did not have a, child in the 80s/90s. Google: Captain Planet and the Planeteers. Current Planeteers include Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, and Heart so I would like to make a bid to be Logic. I think we could solve quite a few more problems with a little of that.

* The barista even knew I usually ordered soy and one day I ordered Skim (whoa! things getting a little craaaazy at the coffee shop) and she panicked that the cashier had rung it incorrectly and it might make me sick if I had the dairy. Turns out, I just think soy milk tastes really fabulous in a latte.

**Helllloooooo, awesome neighbs!

Reverb 10.6: Make.

2010-12-06T10:40:00.003-06:00

December 6-- Make. What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?

I am simultaneously two personality types that can overwhelm and frustrate many people: right-brained and extroverted. And both to a bit of an extreme. Every day I exhibit all of the bad habits and traits of a right-brainer: a penchant towards random thought, a pervasive inattention to detail, thought and decision-making processes driven by strong emotion.

Pair that with an extroversion that I call ‘charming’-- but I think most people might call ‘abrasive’-- and you get a winning combination of sentences that get interrupted by another story of a completely different topic, projects that get started (without any planning) but never finished, and an intense need to discuss things from all possible viewpoints and consider every possible outcome, with a particular focus on how things make me feel. Not to mention the absolutely insane chattiness.

It took me a long time to realize that not everyone operated within the right-brained and extroverted worldviews that I experience every day, and I was accepting of that. It takes all kinds, after all. But I never considered that my extroversion or the grandiose and flighty thoughts that characterize my right-brained operation could be a problem for people until a fateful day in Barnes & Noble Booksellers. I was lost, on my way to something (but I probably thought of something else to look at and forgot my original plan completely—if there had even been a plan at all). I found myself in the Parenting/Self-Help section filled with books on how to make your baby an Einstein and what to do with a picky eater. I glanced over to catch the title of one of the books, proudly splashed down a bright yellow book spine that was likely designed to make parents feel happy and light about their problem ~~demons~~ children.

“How to Deal with Your Extroverted Child.” Deal with? Deal with?! There is nothing to ‘deal with’. . . is there?

Apparently there is. 33 chapters of ‘deal with’ in that book. I was appalled. Clearly, this book had been ordered by Barnes & Noble by mistake, as it clearly was not written by any respectable leading social science researcher with 4 post-grad degrees and over 25 years of researching and working with children. . .

But my astonishment turned a bit to horror as I starting reading the titles of the books neighboring this blasphemous text—a whole shelf on dealing with your extroverted ~~nightmare~~ child. How disruptive they are going to be but “as a diligent parent you must continue to work to teach them the appropriate way to act in society.” And there were titles on right-brained children too! "How to Help Your Right-Brained Child Be Successful." As if they were incapable of achieving their own success simply because they thought a little outside the box. Or planet. Two and a half rows jam-packed with chapters and pages and diagrams on dealing with your wacky, freethinking kid that won’t just shut the hell up.

I was 20 years old when I saw these. And honestly, temporarily heartbroken. I clearly exhibited the traits (and fit the descriptions down to the last word) of the kids parents struggled with most, outside of the diagnosable learning and socialization challenges.

(I bet at this point you are wondering what the hell this has to do with the Day 6 Reverb 10 prompt. Clearly you need to get on the right-brain train, friend. It always comes back around to the topic—it just takes time.)

The intensely creative part of being right-brained has led me to create and make a lot of things. This year I designed my own holiday cards, I designed a photo book for the fabulous women I lived with last year, I sold about a half dozen of my paintings, I sketched and doodled and blogged and photogged.

This weekend I had the fantastic opportunity to catch up with a group of friends I hadn’t seen in a while.

And I made people laugh. Hard. Great big belly laughs and tears streaming out the corners of eyes. Because I am outgoing. And creative. And I have flighty thought and I say random things and I am goofy. That’s a pretty awesome superpower that I wouldn't trade for anything, even if it meant losing all of my other creative and artistic talent. And I think I will set aside some more time to make more laughter. Yes, that would be good.

Reverb 10.5: Let Go.

2010-12-05T20:43:00.001-06:00

December 5-- Let Go. What (or whom) have you let go this year? Why?

Please (Resist the Temptation to) Take A Number. Finish high school and go to college (take a number). Finish college and enroll in graduate school (take a number). Draw out completion of Masters project past graduation date (take a number). Work a post-grad internship (take a number). Move in to your sister's basement spare bedroom (take a number). And then wait.

For a long time I kept saying, to myself and to others, "You know. . . when my 'real life' starts."

Because I had decided (and then was trying to convince myself) that because I wasn't exactly where I thought I would be in life at 18 (or 20 or 21 or 23 or 24) years old, that things would change when I actually started 'real life.'

This year, I emptied all the paper tabs out of my pockets, dug them out from between the few (but adequate) bills in my wallet, threw them into the air like Times Square New Year's confetti, and I got the heck out of line.

I have let go of waiting for my 'real life' to start. Mostly because it was a stupid idea to wait in the first place.

Knock knock, puddin' head, this is your real life and while you wait for things to get perfect/cookie-cutter/easy/pretty/sugar-coated/ideal, life is marching right along. Without you.

My real life is not my dream job, but it is a really good job where I work with people who care about me professionally and personally and are investing as much into my continuing education and training as I am.

My real life is a little stress about finances, second guessing purchases, sometimes splurging, but lots of effort saving.

My real life is making mistakes in relationships, learning when to let friendships go after they have turned sour or simply faded, and knowing when to hold tightly to those who are simply irreplaceable.

My real life is not foolishly waiting for things to change, (naively) assuming that change will only be positive.

My real life is happening. And I am not standing in line for another minute.

Reverb 10.4: Wonder.

2010-12-04T09:56:00.000-06:00

December 4-- Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?

I waited all night for this Reverb 10 prompt to be posted, so excited to start thinking about what I was going to write next, and yet too tired to actually start typing. As I drifted into a week's end sleep with the Minnesota winter tucking me in under a fast-falling, thick blanket of snow I thought I would certainly have no problem writing this post. This morning, upon waking to the sunrise over the world refreshed, I realized I had no idea what wonder really was.

Every time I tried to invoke what inspired wonder this past year, I kept replaying the questions that have doggedly followed me, in various forms.

I wonder if I can finish my Masters project on time?

I wonder if I am doing this right?

I wonder if this internship will turn into a permanent position?

I wonder why I am not getting called back after applying for jobs?

I wonder if I will ever move into my own place?

I wonder if I am saving enough money?

I wonder if I shouldn't have bought that?

The funny thing, is that those (grammatically, at least) aren't actually questions. To say I wonder about something should be a statement, but the question mark is more telling than my occasional struggle with proper grammar. This type of wondering is not the "moment of inspiring awe triggered by an expansion of one's awareness of what is possible" that this prompt is likely getting at. What I have expressed is doubt dressed in wonder's clothing through the clever way humans have used language as a weapon against themselves to mask our fears and uncertainties.

It is not the true reality that no moment has inspired wonder in me this year, but have I actively worked to cultivate it? Well, not really. Because I have been fairly busy actively working to cultivate meaningful work and income and cultivate my relationships. Because those things, particularly my bond with family and close friends, are encouraging me to work through the prevalent doubt/wonder I have experienced this year.

Sometimes not everything inspires life changing wonder. Sometimes things are just good. And that's enough.

Reverb 10.3: Moment.

2010-12-03T10:57:00.003-06:00

December 3-- Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (textures, smells, voices, noises, colors).

My 'moment' this year came a mere 1 hour, 36 minutes after I was quite convinced I was closest to death. And perhaps I was, at the time, blowing things a bit out of proportion. However, finding oneself in the middle of a cold lake, not terribly confident in one's own ability to actually swim long-ish distances, plus the added challenge of attempting to avoid many heel-to-face contacts between oneself and the 50 or so other swimmers, all eyes trained on a piece of the beach that looks like a postage stamp in the distance. Despite feeling that my sinking to the bottom of Pike Lake near Duluth, MN was not a statistical probability but a infallible certainty, my feet finally grazed and took a firm step on the sandy lake bed which turned out to be the first step towards a moment of almost shocking mental clarity.

That clarity came as I crossed the finish line of the 2010 Brewhouse Triathlon, after completing a near death swim, a flat and uneventful bike, and a run that started with a 1 mile uphill slope. But the moment was really about 25 minutes in the making, starting when I hung my bright red Bianchi bicycle back on the chaotic rack in the athlete transition zone and let my feet groove to the pavement, proudly donning the neon blue Nike Pegasus running shoe I had personally designed just for events like this.

I started triathlons in 2009 and I would only describe myself as a triathlete in the very loosest of the terms: one who has completed at least one triathlon of any distance. I have completed three, so I think I can at least entertain the idea of wearing the title on occasion. It's sort of amazing that I continue to do these events, considering that my interest was borne out of a young passion and commitment to running, and I harbor a general fear/disdain of swimming and overall apathetic view of athletic bicycling. So by the time I finish the swim and bike portions (always the first two events), I am relieved to finally be back on terra firma. It's a little like that warm feeling you get when you return home after a vacation and say to yourself, "That was fun, but this is where I belong best."

Running, for me, is the great stress reliever. There have been days in the last year where I have been sitting in a class or in a meeting or stuck at a computer and thought, "I cannot wait to hit the lake trails or hop on the treadmill." Really. I think best in motion; it forces me to say things to myself I cannot say when I am busy transitioning between obligations, and it allows me to think all the way through the depths of a situation. It is peaceful. Running also allows me to feel life physically. I run fast and hard when I am angry, I flit and bounce along the trail when I am overjoyed, sometimes I run up a large hill triumphantly and other days I say "Oh hell no" and turn around. There are many everyday experiences that are much akin to a runner's burning lungs or throbbing legs and of course those moments that you have simply gone too far and are receiving a sharp, stabbing reminder of your own limitations in you side.

On the day of the Brewhouse Triathlon, I turned out of the transition zone to face a mild upward slope and those long but gentle hills are deceiving. They tell your brain "Look how small I am. I will simply lead you to a higher elevation." But they tell your thighs (after swimming and biking and overall constant motion and abuse for an hour already) "This shit isn't easy, and frankly I don't think you have the muscle fibers necessary to climb this goddamn hill." In turn, your brain is saying to you "Look, isn't this nice and pleasant? The scenery is fabulous" while your legs say "Turn around! Turn around! Stop this! This is madness!!" I may or may not be a triathlete, but I am not a quitter. Sorry, thighs. And that thought kept replaying through my head-- after a school year in which I cried myself through more than one term paper, had a complete breakdown in my car after a Saturday morning final exam, had my academic integrity challenged, fought battle after battle towards the completion of my Masters project, and was finding it difficult to secure full-time, permanent employment-- I still had not quit. And 2.6 goddamn miles (half of which had now become an excrutiating uphill) were not going to have the satisfaction of breaking my resolve.

And shortly after crossing that finish line, I stuffed approximately 5 doughnut holes covered in the most satisfying powdered sugar I have ever tasted into my mouth at once and swished it around with a big swig of orange juice (because to the victor goes the gastrointestinal spoils!).

And nothing makes me feel alive like a mouthful of doughnut holes.

Reverb 10.2: Writing.

2010-12-02T22:12:00.012-06:00

December 2 – Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it? (Author: Leo Babauta)

A bit of a discouraging prompt for Day 2, maybe. Only because I have never really identified myself as a writer and I feel like this prompt is geared towards those that do. But I do write.

If I am to answer this question honestly, most of my writing showcased here, save the analytical writing I do at work. And here, the fuel for my writing is my life. The things I am doing when I am not ticka-typing away do not take away from writing, but rather stoke the fire. Things are funny at work? Write about it! Feeling too chubby? Write about it! Have a creative idea rolling around your head that just won't go away? Write about it!

I could probably write more often and I have noticed a decrease in my blog posts since finishing school (sorry), but I think part of that was a bit of a temporary identity crisis. Until October 19, 2010 I had always been a student. And I started this blog in the throes of a grueling graduate program. Who was I now that I wasn't a student? And would I still be who my readers were expecting?

Well, I hope I am not always what you were expecting. That's no fun.

And for the second part of the question, could I eliminate what keeps me from my writing? Eliminate my life?

Yeah, no thanks.

Reverb 10.1: One Word.

2010-12-02T21:51:00.012-06:00

December 1 – One Word. Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you? (Author: Gwen Bell)
Growth.

To say that the year has been overall positive or overall negative isn't easy to do, especially because I imagine anything could happen in the next 29 days. Sort of like anything has happened in the the string of '29 days' that have made up 2010. But there is a consistent beauty in a year that has been full of new adventures, momentous firsts, happy endings mixed with heartbreaking losses, the total and complete experience of 'all good things must come to an end,' and the multitude of injuries that have been inflicted on my physical, mental, and emotional self. That consistency is the opportunity to grow. Because we can't always control what happens to us, but we can control what we do next-- how we choose to react, the way we choose to think about everything and, maybe more importantly, how we choose to think about ourselves.

And overall, this year I am proud of myself. I completed my Masters degree from a school that is one of the top institutions in its field. With a 3.9 GPA. I landed my dream internship that has extended well beyond the initial 3 months promised, and on Monday will become a long-term temp position which provides more stability and a little more pay than the internship. And overall continues to be a safe place to learn, gain experience, and work creatively with people I have grown to love as colleagues and as friends. I completed 2 triathlons, a ride/run race (up and down ski slopes, I might add), various 5Ks, and I played in my first slowpitch softball rec league. I have worked hard to be a more authentic friend and that change is not always easy; it sometimes means saying no to people you adore and saying things that are blunt/honest (I have a difficult discerning and delivering the difference) and not expected by the listener.

Adventure.

2011 is going to be a great year. After all, the last 24 years have sort of established a status quo of great years. But if 2010 was a bit of a rebuilding year, figuring out where to go next and how to use the tools and experiences I had spent so long cultivating, 2011 is going to be about taking all of that to the next level. Pushing myself out of my comfort zone to continue to try new things with joy and curiosity. Regard novel moments with the awe they deserve and bask in the warmth of the beautiful relationships in my life. And maybe do something a little crazy. Maybe.

Introducing: Reverb 10

2010-12-02T20:46:00.002-06:00

I am clearly all in to series of things lately. A reading list, workout plans, etc etc. So it made sense to take on another, no?

In my epic quest to just keep up with all that is going on in the wide world of social networking, I noticed an interesting little trend/hash-tag: #reverb10. Usually I don't have ANY idea what hash-tags refer to, and this of course was no exception. But for some reason, I started clicking on the shortened links that peppered my Twitter list (perhaps this is referred to as a Twist?). And there was some super insightful writing going on out there, all sharing a common, high-trending hash-tag.

What is a semi-savvy social networker to do when she just cannot verify the source of a trend? Google it. And I came upon Reverb 10's website, which explains the project as this:

Reverb 10 is an annual event and online initiative to reflect on your year and manifest what’s next. Use the end of your year as an opportunity to reflect on what's happened, and to send out reverberations for the year ahead. With Reverb 10 - and the 31 prompts our authors have created for you - you'll have support on your journey.

A little more digging leads one to discover that this is a daily writing project for the month of December which gives the writer, and their readers (lucky ducks!) a chance to reflect on the year that is quickly closing and get all psyched up for the year that's coming (because it is on it's way whether we like it or not).

Frankly, this sounds awesome to me for a whole bundle of reasons:

I am a reflector. Not the shiny "hey car, see me because I am running in the dark" kind. A guess a better word might be storyteller. Because telling stories about what I have done and what I am doing now allows me to reflect on my choices and the events I have been involved in and how those have absolutely instilled in me a desire to change by improving on decisions, making some decisions again and again and again, and remember some decisions simply because they should not be repeated in this lifetime. Or the next. Or the one after that either.
Believe it or not, blogging is hard. I know I make it look pretty easy, if I do say so myself, but it's more than sitting down to your computer and bitching about all the injustices in your life (although, that's about 50% of the battle right there). And its difficulty and complexity are intensified by the fact that you may know who some of your readers are, but certainly not all. And further, you don't know which posts they've liked, which they've hated, do they like pictures, are links their thing? No one shares this. And it appears from my statistics that I have 7 RSS subscribers (thanks!) and approximately 30 site visitors a week (you should subscribe!). But I know who very few of you are. Long bullet short, a month of writing prompts means that, theoretically, I can't pick the wrong topic and you can't be disappointed. We are driven by a higher power (i.e. the Reverb 10 prompts) this month.

So, currently there have been two prompts posted. I am going to try and play catch up now, especially because I have a busy weekend coming up and don't know if I will have much of a chance then and if I waited that long, I could end up 5 days behind instead of just 2. Which would satisfy my procrastinating soul but would not really stay true to the mission of Reverb 10, which is a daily reflection to find calm about your year.

I encourage everyone to think about these prompts, and even if you don't choose to publish them for the whole internet to stumble upon, write them in a journal, on a napkin, or find "an app for that."

Okay, let's get on with the show.

The 100 Reads Project In Full Swing

2010-11-25T09:49:00.001-06:00

I finished reading Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I first fell in love with Marquez and his fiction when I read Chronicles of a Death Foretold in my World Literature class in high school. His books are richly painted glimpses into the Caribbean at the turn of the century, incorporating values and traditions of the indigenous, Spanish, and African cultures. Love in the Time of Cholera was an interesting page turner because the middle of the book felt slow at times, but I still was so intrigued at the way he introduced the story that after every chapter I thought "Well, now we will find out what happens." But you don't really find out what happens until the last 50 pages. Meanwhile, it is easy to enjoy the rich storytelling and depth of character development in the middle 250 pages. By the end of the book, I certainly found myself not-so-secretly hoping for the love story to come true at last for the two protagonists. I am excited that my list of 100 Reads includes another book by him.

I am starting the project with the book Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Promote Peace. . . One School at a Time by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. Three Cups of Tea features the story of a mountaineer (Mortenson) who found himself in Pakistani village after a failed attempt to climb K2. He was so moved by the inhabitants' kindness, that he promised to return and build a school. And he kept his promise to the villagers, plus building 54 additional schools, particularly focusing on the goal of educating girls in a part of the world still plagued by severe gender discrimination and oppression. This book is of particular interest to me because of the promotion of educating girls, as a lot of health and economic research has shown that educated girls become educated mothers and women who work better jobs (often starting their own small businesses) and lead healthier lives, starting a cycle of good health generations in their family.

This Season in Obscure Holidays

2010-11-21T12:29:00.000-06:00

It's officially the holiday season around here. I know because I was walking through Macy's the other day on my way to lunch (thank heavens for the Skyway system in Minneapolis) and I got stabbed in the eye by a hanging snowflake and Harry Connick Jr. Christmas carols followed me through the men's department, around the shoes, and while I craftily dodged the "perfume ladies" and their spritzing and dashing and grabbing your hands and slathering them with some putrid smelling glittery lotion.

Thanksgiving and Christmas get all the attention this time of year, and perhaps for good reason. They each come with a fabulous spread of foods. And, to a lesser extent, some mass media/advertising attention is paid to Hanukkah (and it's 200 different spellings) and Kwanzaa in an effort to keep the holidays politically correct.

But there are a lot of holidays going on this time of year that get easily overlooked behind the turkey and the cut-out cookies, the fabulous department store discounts, and the stuffed stockings. Luckily, we've had ourselves a bit of an ice storm and I have nothing but time to bring those holidays to your attention! Perhaps you can squeeze in one more party and one more turkey loaf for one of these fabulous occasions as well!

Friday, November 26: Black Friday. Because nothing says holiday cheer like leaving your family to line up outside of Wal-Mart at 2am only to stampede like a bunch of deal-seeking wildebeest and trample an employee. To death. Happy Holidays!

Saturday, November 27: National Listening Day. "Huh? Did you say something? No no no, I was listening. I just, uh. . . need you to repeat that for me one more time."

Tuesday, November 30: Stay Home Because You're Well Day. Unless you're an hourly worker, sans benefits, like some of us who are out there livin' the dream. For us, this is a lesser known holiday, "Go To Work Because You Have A Job, Yay!" Day.

December is National Tie Month. I expect some much better dressed men in Downtown Minneapolis for this month. Spruce yourselves up, boys! Especially if you participated in the god-awful observance of No Shave November. Ugh.

Wednesday, December 1: World AIDS Day. Ahem. [steps on to soapbox] Part of the epidemic of AIDS is biological; it is caused by a nasty virus that can be elusive to the infected individual. Many people are infected with HIV and don't know for some time after infection, giving them the opportunity to spread it to sexual partners or between mother and newly born child. Another part of the epidemic is social. We're afraid to talk about HIV/AIDS because it makes us talk about issues that we're uncomfortable with. For example, men who have sex with men but don't identify as homosexual are at a dangerously high risk of HIV infection but we don't talk about that. Further, HIV/AIDS is running rampant through parts of the world where sex is used against women and children as a weapon of war and conflict. But we frame HIV/AIDS infection as the responsibility of the infected person by saying things like "They shouldn't have sex with someone they don't know" or "They should have used protection." I think we all wish it were so easy. The last part of the epidemic is the continued need for resources. There are retroviral treatments that can extend an individuals life with HIV and prevent the onset of AIDS. They are having mixed, but mostly positive results. There are drugs that prevent the spreading of HIV from mother to child during birth and these are showing extremely positive results and are greatly reducing the burden of HIV on infants. But these are not inexpensive treatments and they need continued funding and support along with increasing support for comprehensive sex education in the US and abroad, the continued empowerment of women worldwide to have control over their own sexuality and sexual decision-making, and to further punish individuals who use sex as a tool of violence. Learn more here.

Saturday, December 4: National Cookie Day. I do so love any National [insert something delicious here] Day.

Friday, December 10: National Salesman Day. I get it. This is someone's job and we should celebrate them just like we celebrate teachers, bosses, secretaries and the like. But, in all honesty, less than 5% of the teachers I have had were real jerks, but at least 80% of the salesman I have had to deal with (I am looking at you phone companies and internet and television service providers) were real ass-hats. Maybe this year in celebration, they could try not being that way. You know, to spice things up.

Friday, December 10: Human Rights Day. All humans are created equal. Unfortunately, some are still more equal than others. The beauty of the Human Rights Declaration is that it asks for rights to be extended and recognized in many areas of human life. The right to adequate nutrition, the right to adequate health, the right to a safe place to live, the right to education, the right to make a livable wage doing fulfilling work. Pick your topic and fight for it on this day and every day. Learn more here.

Wednesday, December 15: Cat Herders Day. Is this for actual cat herders or for people who have professions that are akin to cat-herding? For example, anyone working with children and their snotty noses and sticky jelly fingers.

Thursday, December 16: National Re-Gifting Day. Oh, do not roll your eyes like that and think 'Gosh, what a tacky holiday!' We've all done it. And you know it.

Tuesday, December 21: National Crossword Day. I, for one, am glad this day falls on a Tuesday rather than a Friday or Sunday? The Crosswords/Sudokus/Cryptoquips are far and away easier at the beginning of the week.

Okay, hope that's sufficient to get you through the holiday season. I don't know what kind of baked goods you make for National Salesman Day (arsenic brownies, perhaps), but I am sure you'll figure something out!

Oh! And Happy Festivus (the holiday for the rest of us) which officially falls on December 23.

One thing of note: Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade was on the list of official holidays and I could not agree more.

Let's Get Literary

2010-11-15T09:45:00.000-06:00

I made an update, but forgot to update you about the update.

Stop chasing that sentence like a tail-chasing pup and come back to me, here.

You know why you didn't know it was an update? Because it wasn't an actual post, like this update on the update is. You're asking how that is possible and I am answering.

I added a... page! (Gasps can be heard spreading through the reading crowd like wildfire*)

So, for the first time (and possibly the last) in the history of Misadventures of a Modern Mugwump, I am going to allow you to let your eyes wander over to the right side of the page and find the new toolbar labeled "Pages." And under that you will see a link to Home (that's where you are now; welcome to my e-Home!) and to a new addition: 100 Reads. I won't describe it here, because it is described there, so click on over and enjoy!

* First Mom gasped on the couch, and then Dad in the easy chair. And the dog "harumphed" and it was counted as a gasp because this blogger will take all she can get.

You Can Find Me on the Treadmill

2010-11-06T10:16:00.002-05:00

So, there are lots of great things about being a real graduate: no more classes, no more late night term paper sagas, no more stressing over exams, no more no more no more.... No more things to do in the evenings? No more thesis clogging my every thought and spare moment?

Oh. My. God.

Now what?!

Well, a 10K, of course. I have all this time in the evenings, and other than the occasional social engagement, the brief errands here and there, I have too much time to be idle. So much so that it is uncomfortable-- I can't sit still, I don't sleep after a night of doing nothing; it's awful, really. But, I recently have also bought a gym membership and I have to go 12 times a month to get a pretty good discount from my health insurance provider. What do you get when you combine free time and a gym membership and a need for a good challenge? 10K training.

[Gosh, sorry. I didn't notice the photo didn't show. You probably didn't either actually. Will attempt to fix...maybe]

First saw an awesome training plan in a friend's copy of Fitness magazine and unearthed a copy from their website. It's funny because it is sort of arranged how I do my weekly training anyway: interval runs and swimming or biking for my cross-training, and I try to do my longer runs on weekends because I have more time. I think this training program and I might get along perfectly well-- as long as I can stick to it. Fingers crossed!

By the Numbers: Completing My Masters Degree

2010-10-21T14:25:00.000-05:00

6: percent of the US population with a Masters Degree.

0.00000000322: percent of the US population that is me.

19: Years I have spent in formal school.

19: Years I have spent in public schools (woo!).

6: Years I have spent in higher education.

12: Number of times I have moved residences in 6 years of higher ed. This number makes me terribly excited to plant some honest roots in the near future. Transient living is for the birds.

2: Years spent in graduate school.

54: Credits completed in graduate school.

4,652: Number of complete and total meltdowns in graduate school-- complete with wailing, uncontrollable tears, hyperventilation, assuming the fetal position, throwing of papers and/or flash drives, red-wine self-medication, and desperate phone calls to my mother.

9: Number of months spent securing IRB approvals, analyzing data, writing, graphing, editing, re-writing, re-graphing, emailing, revising, and presenting my Masters project.

43: Pages in my final project.

38: Slides in my defense presentation.

45: Minutes in my defense presentation.

5: Minutes spent by my committee 'deliberating.'

0: Number of revisions to make to my project before final submission to the School of Public Health.

17: Number of people I mass-texted this message to on Tuesday, October 19, 2010: PASSED.

0: Experiences like finally earning your Masters of Public Health.

I definitely put the MPH in triumph this time.

De-fense! De-fense!

2010-10-07T21:18:00.000-05:00

"Coming to a cramped conference room near you, October 19, 2010...

A thriller two years (and a little extra, but who's counting) in the making...

An effort filled with blood, sweat, and tears (but mostly tears)...

An example of triumph over Stata, PowerPoint, and Logic Models...

The story of one woman's journey from falsely hopeful undergraduate to totally exhausted, semi-employed graduate student boiled into 30 minutes of action packed graphs and video screen captures...

Starring a committee of three individuals with near total control over our protagonist's potential future...

And the ever charming, ever witty, ready to graduate Mugwump.

When you learned your alphabet in Pre-K, you never knew the most important letters would be...

MPH."

Read it in that movie announcer voice. Then it actually sounds pretty bad-ass.

Confessions of a Hypersensitive, Overactive, Toy-Destroying Border Collie

2010-09-12T22:37:00.000-05:00

Regarding my body:

I do not understand that in the last 9 months I have been with this family, I have gone from a young pup to a full-size adult dog. I anticipate being able to fit in spaces such as laps, car seats, and through gaps that are still puppy sized.
Unlike other dogs, I am built entirely of elbows. You may not understand this now, but when I flop myself into your body, you will feel each of them in the bony, digging, sharp manner in which elbows are often thrust.
Coordinated movements are fined tuned if I am fetching something, chasing something, chewing something, or trying to sneak out of trouble. I move like a floppy scarecrow if I am walking, getting off the couch, going through doorways, getting in or out of the car, or turning a corner.

Regarding my behavior:

Not only do I warn new people that this is MY house when they come in by barking in random directions, I remind them again when they leave four hours later, even if they have spent the majority of that time rubbing my belly and tossing a ball.
I am constantly needing to go outside to check on the status of my toys. All of the balls in the yard must be congregated in the place of my choice. If they are not, they will be.
My feelings get hurt terribly easily by the following words, phrases, or actions: taking away the ball, "dammit", "go lay down", petting the cats in my presence, leaving me behind for any reason, closing the microwave too loud, asking me not to lay on your clean laundry, accidentally getting kicked because I take up two-thirds of the couch, not being able to sit on my human's lap on the freeway, anything that happens in Petsmart other than letting me carry a squeaky tennis ball around the building, "give me that, please, we need to pay for it."
I spend my entire day herding things like toys, buildings, parked cars, etc. By the time I come in for the night, I am exhausted. My bedtime is strictly no later than 10 pm and I am not interested in starting bed time in my human's bed, on the couch, or on the floor. Bedtime is observed exclusively in my crate. Which I love.

Mobile Mugwump

2010-09-11T23:19:00.001-05:00

No. There’s not an “app” for Mobile Mugwump, although I suppose- in theory- you could be reading me from your fandangled smartphone/mobile device of the gods*. Imagine for a moment, if you will, all the places you could enjoy me from if I went digitally mobile: work (you shouldn’t be reading personal blogs at work!), home (you really shouldn’t ignore that pile of laundry or the beautiful weather to read this child-adult complain), the bathroom (ugh, gross!), waiting in line (ahhhhh, you’re one of those people…). On second thought, let’s just enjoy this from your computer.

This Mugwump went mobile, analog style. I spent an extended Labor Day weekend in Washington DC as the first vacation I have really had since spring of 2008. I had a lovely time and got to see some of the cool things I hadn’t seen in my previous trips out there (hello Space Shuttle!). Also of note, there are an abnormally high number of ducks making their summer home in the reflection pool near the Lincoln Memorial.

Vietnam Memorial

Relief art at the World War II Memorial

Federal ducks are happy ducks.

Stars and Stripes on a windy, hazy DC day.

Memorial Wreaths at World War II Memorial.

Each star represents a member of the military lost in World War II.

I knew the East Coast was kind of different-- they're ducks come in a vertical model as well.

He's got my vote for 2012.

Surprisingly, it looks like a marshmallow. A giant, atmosphere busting, zero-G marshmallow of exploration.

* Someone may or may not be terribly jealous that Verizon’s RIDICULOUS plan only lets a loyal, timely bill-paying customer update her phone once every 2 years and has thus been left in the digital dust of cell phone technology.