Archived Posts: March, 2006

God, part 5: Untitled
Then I got on my hands and knees and slithered under the table with her. I ended up resting on my elbow and hip, too tall to sit up under there.

This is the point where I’d like to say that something profound occurred. Like she looked at me and said, “You know, Katie, God loves us, and even though you’re not so good at relating to me, that’s OK. Jesus loves us anyway.” Or maybe she could have given me a hug and I could have looked in her eyes and I felt as though we’d touched souls.

Didn’t happen.

The Question Game!
Penguins or otters?
Too fast or too slow?
Perfume: floral or spicy?
Mountains or beach?
Canada or Mexico?
Eat in or take out?
Spring, Summer, Fall or Winter?
Paperback or hardcover?
Amazon or Barnes&Noble?
Yellow light - speed up or stop?
400 mile trip - drive or fly?

Preparing to pout
But living alone allows me to turn off the laptop, let phone calls go to voicemail, and settle in. I have work stuff to figure out - plans and irritations and how I want to spend my time here. It's good overall, actually. But today was bad, and I want to feel sorry for myself, drink wine and wallow.

Links
Within that time, during my discovery of a really great set of academic blogs from which I derived my audience, I fell a little in love with many of you. Smile when I see you in site statistics, eagerly click when your site goes bold in bloglines. I’ve worried over you, laughed when you say something funny, and thought about some novel ideas. The community wasn’t something I really expected. I tended to be really passive in reading blogs before starting this one, and assumed that my participation would be perfunctory at best. Finding myself caring a great deal about some of you has been a lovely realization for me. In an 'Oh, thank God I'm not a hermit after all!' way.

Work stuff
But table A belongs next to the loveseat, not the couch. So I’d move furniture too! Switch the couch and loveseat (hurt myself doing that), and move table A to the perfect location.

Well then the carpet behind the furniture really needed some work. And if I was going to vacuum again, I should probably just scrub the carpet since I hadn’t done it since I moved in. Then I decided that the furniture should probably be vacuumed too, but I’d already filled up my last bag.

The shop-vac! A Christmas gift that works not only for the car, but for the living room! So I finished the carpet, then all the furniture. I did a load of laundry for all the blankets that rest on my now-clean couch, loveseat and chair. Which necessitated folding and moving the laundry I’d already started.

Well, then I had to organize the stuff that was already in the baskets of table A, which lead to organizing some piles of paper that were in my office (because some of the table A items should have been filed with office papers). Leaving my office, I noticed the picture frames I’d picked up but hadn’t used. So the old pictures of Grandma and Grandpa that hang in my hall were carefully reframed and hung again. That made me think of those postcards I bought but never framed.

In looking for them, I discovered the baskets on my baker’s rack in the kitchen entryway were terribly messy. So I looked through all of that stuff, threw some away, and put the rest in neater order. I realized I hadn’t put away the big Mary and Joseph figurines from Christmas, so a trip to the guest room was in order. It was only logical to make sure the boxes I’d packed up in early January were done properly at that point, right?

Lessons from the Archives
“To write and think and record some of these experiences so maybe the next time I was faced with something similar, I’d at least have a head start on some of the same lessons.” It must have subconsciously resonated because I found myself looking for guidance through what I’ve written here so far. After all, is there a point to telling these stories and trying to learn the lessons if I’m only going to forget them soon after?

The Mice and the conclusion
So, at 4AM Monday morning, I sat with my laptop and considered myself. I can do the animal work – I made it through a session with a good deal of composure. So my gratitude to Charlie remains – he turned a question of ability into a debate over preference. For me, that was a vital step.

Poor, poor me
The plan went awry. I must have stepped on the curb wrong with my left foot, and when I stumbled, my right foot refused to support my weight. You can imagine my surprise when I found myself lying on the street.

Professional glow
“What did you work on?” She asked. “Did you do research?”

I nodded automatically, turned to her and opened my mouth to answer. Then closed it. Thought of the jobs I didn’t want. The email informing me of my paper’s rejection. The defense date that had come and gone without a presentation or signed forms or celebrations.

“It doesn’t matter.” I told her, meaning it with every molecule of my being. “It’s not important at all.”

Home and family
My face fell as the 4 students who answered before me were unanimous in their “friends!” response. No, no, no. I thought. Family. The support, understanding, laughter, safety, love that I’d felt so far had come much more strongly from relatives than peers. They didn’t think I was strange for refusing party invitations to spend time alone, smiled fondly at my inclination to read rather than join them to watch movies. Listened intently as I described problems with friends or boys, never sharing that information with others to increase their social status. The comfort that I felt with my family so far surpassed that I felt with friends that there was no question of my answer, but when my turn came, I gave it softly. I was the only family vote.

The little water picture
"Water doesn’t go in brownies.” Rachel said, looking over to grace me with a grin, and Elle went to dig the box out of the garbage.

“Look,” she said, displaying it. “There’s the little oil measuring cup, then the picture of the eggs, then the little spoonfuls of water. It’s not like we’ve never done this before.” She teased.

“Oh,” Rachel said, smiling sheepishly. “I must not have seen the little water picture.”

Silly bloggy stuff (or is it?)
"Deep affection and loyalty" Very deep. Deep like the ocean.

On hating the hot
Then there was a concurrent corner and bump, and somehow Mom lost her balance and looked up at us from the bottom of the tube, only her head resting on the soft edge. Dad and I stared at her, surprised.

Then the ride got interesting. See, when she fell, the whole balance system was severely compromised. Suddenly, Dad and I were heading backward, while Mom’s eyes got bigger and bigger. Another corner forced a rotation and since Mom’s side was clearly lighter – having only her head for weight – she ended up going really far up the gently sloped walls of the ride.

“Wow.” I breathed after the second time, because she really did have some decent height on her ascents.

“Shut up, Katie!” I think I laughed, because as she was hanging on to the rope for dear life and getting bounced along the ride, spinning the tube and leaving us to gather more momentum than was wise, I didn’t think I was in much danger of punishment.

Grand gesture, part 1
“That’s a big red bow!” She said, smiling at me. “What are you going to do with it?”

“It’s going in the box.” I smiled back, and when she looked confused, I elaborated.

“I ordered an iPod for a friend, and the bow will go with it when I send it along.”

Grand gesture, part 2
Two lines. His name – because it’s a good name, and because you should label your iPod so people know it’s yours. Then, Fingers crossed.

Fingers crossed, folks! So elegant, so meaningful, so perfect in my mind.

Grand gesture, part 3
For me though, his reaction was actually a bit secondary. I needed the reminder that I could find pure kindness in myself – the desire to give comfort, joy and iPods. This grand gesture represented hope for me too – that I’m still learning a lot, looking for someone with whom to share my life, figuring out my own career stuff, having bad days. Within all of that though, I’ve developed the ability to be a friend – to love people in a pretty generous way.

Maturity (or lack thereof)
“Wait.” I said, because one lesson maturity offered me is that if “this” is good enough, it will be repeated. I’m better about keeping secrets than I once was, but the temptation sometimes lingers. And in junior high, temptations are not easily overcome from what I remember. “I don’t know if you should tell us.” I said, shaking my head.

Fine. Whatever. I don't care.
My team and I are the turtles, OK? You should know though, Charlie, that it’s all part of the master plan. We will be avenged, and there will be a better bet than writing something about how your school is better than my school (such a lie – I can’t even look at that statement without rolling my eyes). For the sad turtle, I’m thinking something along the lines of an artificial hip, lasic surgery, and an internal navigation system. And the pain of this loss will make said turtle study harder in an attempt to gain super intelligence with which he will control his bionic body.

Meanwhile, your greyhound will become arrogant in what is clearly a minor victory now. Perhaps he will skip his daily training sessions to romance a lady greyhound who only likes him for his athletic ability. He’ll gain weight, age badly and perhaps lose some of his shiny coat. Then as the little turtle continues to improve (and I really, really hope the lifespan of a turtle is longer than that of a dog, though I fear that’s not true. Dial-up internet prevents me from spending what could be hours looking it up), your dog will see said turtle – with his super intelligence, technically-improved body and incredible strength of will – and just roll over to nap because turtle superiority is overwhelming to him.

Defining home, part 1
I stepped off the side street and into the first yard I’d cross. I made it three steps before noticing how different the ground felt under my feet than where I live now. There’s underlying rock here in the south – difficult to plant trees and shrubs because you can only dig so far before hitting harsh resistance.

Busy, busy, busy!
I’m trying to write a grant. That isn’t news – I’ve been working at it for 3 weeks or so.

Sitting down
But the woman next to me sat. I was uncomfortable - wanted to tug her up and whisper “You’re fine, it’s OK, just stand here.” Then she ducked her head and I saw that she was flustered, considering standing up herself. So I put my hand on her shoulder and bowed my head and prayed what is among the sincerest prayers I’ve ever given. I didn’t know what was wrong – whether she’d lost someone vital to her or not been able to find a good parking spot. Whatever it was, she needed help, and there was this inability to cope, and I was so moved. Suddenly found myself thinking she was so brave for sitting down, asking for just a few minutes of attention to regroup and heal.

I opened my eyes to see her covered with hands – mine on her shoulder, her husband curled over to rest his cheek on the hand he’s placed at the top of her head, Mom reaching across me to hold her hand, people bent awkwardly over their chairs from in front to reach her knees, those from behind finding places on her back.

A rather pitiful update
I'm actually so not ready for children myself. The Little One was the Terrible One this afternoon - I really wanted to look in her brown eyes and say "What the hell is your problem?!" But I resisted, cursing only in my mind when she screamed at the restaurant because she wanted to be walking around rather than sitting nicely.

Puppy?
But I’ve never been in this house without her. And I miss her. Found myself calling her name as I found something for lunch, wondering if she’d want the sausage off the leftover slice of pizza. Then feeling my heart hurt as I realized she isn’t here. I left the door to the garage open when I went out to fold laundry – she hates it if she gets locked inside and can’t explore the garage while I’m out there. I put all her toys away in the three baskets I keep, and they’re still there. I’m looking around and not seeing tennis balls, squeaky squirrels, bright plush birds and gaudy plastic toys scattered across the carpet. She didn’t get excited when I took out the suitcase to pack, wasn’t waiting when I got out the shower, isn’t tucked behind my knees as I sit here and type.

Social? Me?
So I decided that I’d get french fries and stopped at McDonalds. This threw off the whole plan, since now I had to go inside due to the poor restroom placement at the gas station. But fine. Once in the building, I found myself seriously considering going back to my car and using the drive-thru rather than ordering at the counter. Really.

Katie's business trip, day 1
Tomorrow will include 11 hours of class and labs. Then a social event. That makes at least 14 hours with people, talking about my job (or one aspect of it), and knowing that even after tomorrow's over, there's day 3 to handle.

Katie's business trip, day 2
If you’re a bad speaker, someone in the room is counting (and writing on a post-it) how many times you say “um.” Surprisingly, this wasn’t me. Not surprisingly, I adore the person who did this.