sometimes ya gotta lose 'til ya win

It's been a busy couple of weeks for me. I've been meaning to post, but couldn't really come up with anything exciting, that anyone would really want to read, but then felt guilty for letting my public down. So here I am! Just kidding. I really don't take myself that seriously.

My brother got home last Wednesday. It was surreal watching him walk through the airport, almost like it was a dream. We were (and still are) so happy to have him home. Every day we hear a new story about his time in Mexico. Since he was gone for two years, I think we'll be hearing stories for quite some time. It's weird and awesome to hear him speak Spanish so easily. I love it when he answers a question in Spanish without meaning to or says things in Spanish because he can't think of how to say it in English. It just tells me how immersed he was and how seriously he took it. I learn new phrases here and there. So far I can say "How do I look?" and I know what he's saying when he says several popular phrases. At this rate, I'll be fluent in about 80 years.

I still can't seem to figure out how to work the unemployment system, which has been extremely frustrating. I hate that I have even bothered to try collecting because it's caused me many a headache and I'm not gaining anything from it. If anything, I just feel like it's causing me to age quicker. I get the run-around and then get pissed, but still don't get a check. It's really stupid. I need to find a job and then I might just call and tell those unemployment people what they can do with the money that I never got. I need to stop. I can feel my blood pressure rising just thinking about it.

I finally got back to working out this week. I haven't wanted to, but I've forced myself to go to body sculpt and to run this past week. Now I just need to keep it up. I'm having a hard time remembering that I've already paid to run a marathon in six months. That might seem like a long time, but I am no where near ready and fear that I won't get there. Talk about needing to buckle down!

With not being the best of moods the last couple of days, I did realize a thing or two. It has become glaringly obvious that running and serving others is just plain good for me. When I run, I can do nothing but concentrate on the task at hand and how I'm going to get myself back home. Whether I'm telling myself that I need to wait just a little bit longer before taking a break to walk or making sure that I don't roll my ankle and re-injure it, I don't have room to think about anything else that's going on in my life. Not even if I try to! That is comforting and has lasting affects. By the time I make it home, all I can think about is how I just survived a near-death experience. You would think that that would help motivate me to go every day. Maybe someday it will.

Serving others takes you outside yourself, too. It could just be the simple fact that I'm busy and, therefore, don't have time to think about myself. Regardless, it does help and I should remember that more often. Yesterday there was a quick lesson in that. Then, tonday, there were a couple of opportunities to think about someone else and they lasted much longer. Needless to say, I am better for it. I feel a little selfish, even, because I am fairly certain that I benefitted more than the "recipients." Funny how that works.

And I simply can't get enough of the Royal Wedding. I don't forsee getting tired of it anytime soon, either. I just think that they are so cute together and am mesmerized every time I see some sort of story about them on TV. I've seen all the best parts of the wedding festivities at least 10 times each, but I just keep watching. And I am in love with her dress. I have long loved the dress that Kimberly Williams wore in Father of the Bride (the 90's version with Steve Martin, of course), but I think I have just found a new dream dress. Oddly enough, they are sort of similar. Sort of. Do you think she'd let me borrow it? I'd probably have to start dieting and really working out right now!

Paradise

I just spent a week in the Bahamas. Working, mind you, but the scenery could've been worse. There were some really long days and some interesting experiences. These are the ones that were too good not to share. I flew down with F, someone that I've known for several years. He worked as a staff person for my old company, so I've gotten to know him and he's always entertaining. I was glad that he was going with me because he's an experienced TD (Travel or Trip Director) and would be able to guide me on my first real, extended program as a contractor. The other nice thing about traveling with him is that he's a transportation guy, so he really knows the ropes when it comes to air travel and ground transportation. He would make sure that we got there together and in one piece.

We were told to take a taxi from the airport to the hotel, which was just fine. We had to wait an hour to get through immigrations, but when we got outside, we didn't have to wait any time at all for a little Bahamian woman to get us in her van. I saw the back door open on the left side of the van, but started to go around to the right side to get in because F was getting in on the left. They (the driver and F) both stopped me and said I had to get in on the left. It hadn't occurred to me that this van was too old to have back doors on both sides. I thought it was strange, but as I got in and saw the steering wheel on the right side, it started to make sense. These people drive from the right side of the vehicle. And on the left side of the road. It was the strangest thing to me.

So we're driving along and F and the driver are becoming fast friends, discussing where we've come from and what we're doing in the Bahamas and the weather and local secrets that we should check out. You have to know that F has the thickest New York accent and is one of the funniest people to just listen to and watch, so I'm completely entertained and not saying a word. At one point, the conversation turns to the weather and how hot it has already gotten down there. The next thing I know, the taxi driver is saying "Don't tell anyone I did this." and she took off her hair and threw it in the passenger's seat. SHE TOOK HER WIG OFF IN FRONT OF US. She then proceeded to put a bandana on her head, to cover what little hair she did have. I don't know that I could've been any more uncomfortable had she taken her top off.

It sat in the seat next to her long enough that I was able to snap a couple of pictures of it. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have visual proof to back this story up. It looked like some sort of animal just sitting there. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so unnerving had I realized that she was wearing a wig to begin with. I really thought it was her real hair, or at least a weave. For the record, I would not have taken a picture to document the situation had she removed her top. That would've been left to a photographer for National Geographic.

She prolonged the awkwardness by telling us that it was just too hot to wear that wig. She even went so far as to tell us that her hairdresser would never even give her a weave because she (the hairdresser) knows that our driver would be back two days later begging to have it taken out because it was just too hot. I can't relate to any of that. I have long hair and, if I get hot, I put it in a ponytail. It usually doesn't bother me because it makes me hot, though, it's generally because it's in my way. You're just never going to catch me cutting my hair because it's hot.

The next "experience" that I had happened a few days later. I was given the assignment to man the Dolphin Cay area. I was to make sure that everyone that had signed up to swim with the dolphins arrived for their scheduled appointment, turned in a waiver, and to answer any other questions that they may have. Our group was not the only group at the hotel and cruise ships frequently book these activities for their guests, so I was constantly asking if people were there for us. At one point, a man who I knew wasn't with us asked me if I worked at there. I said no, that I was working with a group in-house and he said to me "That explains the whiteness." Later that day, one of our attendees asked I lived in the Bahamas. I said no, that I like in Florida and she said "Really? And you're still really white." I said to her "Yes, and you're the second person to point that out to me today. Thanks." I wanted to tell her that she should enjoy her nice tan, from baking in the sun for hours on end, now because in 20 years, she's going to look like an aligator and I'll still have great skin. I didn't, though.

There were only 10 staff for almost 1000 attendees, so we worked really long hours most of the days that we were there. In the end, it was worth it because everyone had a really good time and the clients were really happy with the outcome. It was nice to get home last night, too. I'm not sure what made me happier: to see and talk to my parents or to be able to use my phone again. Whether or not I'd go back to that particular hotel, I don't know. Maybe, if I had enough money to be able to enjoy myself without being dead broke when I got home. The lazy river was calling my name, but I never got to answer it. And I would just hope that the slot machines would be a little kinder next time. What? It was just for fun.

I've sure enjoyed the rain, but I'm looking forward to the sun

Every job that I've ever landed has had something in common with the other. On the day of my interview, it poured down rain on my way there and as I was walking in. Maybe it was a way to humble me just before I went in. When you want to make a good impression, being soaking wet with messed up hair and make-up running down your face isn't exactly ideal. Granted, I don't wear enough make-up for it to run down said face (and never plan to, thankyouverymuch) so that isn't an issue, but my hair being a mess bugs me every day of the week. Especially if I need to make an impression.

On Monday, it rained all day. All. day. Tuesday was slightly overcast, but not a drop. Wednesday it threatened to rain all morning and then started to rain just as I got to Jacksonville for my meeting. It rained through the meeting, the entire drive back home, and continued all day yesterday. Today? Sunshine and upper 70's. And I had an interview.

What I found interesting was that my resume was received through the "grapevine." Even though it wasn't my dream job coming to find me, I wasn't about to turn down an opportunity, even if it was just something to tide me over until I land that dream job. With obligations already on the calendar, I couldn't interview yesterday, which was the first option given. (Curse you, unemployment hoops that must be jumped through!) An appointment today was the best that could be done. As I drove over, I even thought about the fact that it stormed all day yesterday and there was now not a cloud in the sky.

When faced with the task of having to interview for a new job, I decided that I will be going about this process differently than I ever have, and maybe than I really should. I decided to go into with the love-it-or-leave-it mindset. While I will be sure to let any- and everyone know that I am capable, I'm going to just be honest. I have been and plan on continuing to be upfront about my skillset and expectations. I don't see the sense in trying to build myself up as something that I may not necessarily be. I've seen too many times where people say "Oh, yes! I can do anything you want me to!" and then they start and are far less than what they said they were. I don't want to be that girl. A wise guy that I know once said "Under promise, over deliver." That made perfect sense to me and is the way I'm going. Hopefully desperation doesn't force me to jump that ship!

Late this afternoon, I got a call back from the company. I was surprised to be hearing from them so soon. Who gets a call back the same day? Anyway... the news wasn't day-making. They said that they enjoyed meeting with me, appreciated me coming in, but that they filled the position. Put nicely, "You're not hired." I said thank you for taking the time to meet with me and hung up before the conversation got awkward.

I'm really not bummed at all. The rain thing crossed my mind as I was driving there, so I was sort of thinking it wasn't going to happen. Then, as we were talking, I was thinking about what I might say if I were offered the position and didn't want to take it. I wasn't trying to be negative about the situation at all, but maybe those were little clues that this wasn't going to be my big break. So the "vacation" continues. If you can call what I'm doing vacationing. It would be more of a vacation if I'd gone to the beach this afternoon, since it was gorgeous in Central Florida today. My fingers are crossed that we get a few days like this after April 20. Which, for the record, is only 19 days away.

Busy

Yesterday was the beginning of a busy few weeks. I worked a dinner meeting in Jacksonville, driving up and back in less than 12 hours. All that driving wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be, even though it rained for a good portion of it. The meeting was at a Ruth's Chris, which was great because I was fed well and had leftovers. (My dad will probably benefit from them more than I will.) The not-so-great part of it was the subject of the meeting: IBS. I'll spare you the details, only saying that "raisinets" was used as a comparison. It's a good thing that there's really no subject that can be discussed over a meal that will make me not want to eat. Well, maybe that isn't a good thing, but it worked out well for me last night.

Next Wednesday I leave to do another meeting and will be gone for a week. I'm looking forward to it, but am a little nervous. It's different doing contracted staff work than being from the home office. I probably over-think everything I do, but I just want to make sure that I don't make things more difficult for the people who have to piece together the information that I give them after the meeting is over. I know how that is and sometimes I felt like a detective. Hmm... maybe I should put that on the list of potential careers. That can be right after Court Reporter. Oh, sorry.

The week after I get back, my brother will be home. There is no number of exclamation points that could properly convey how excited I truly am. It feels like we have all been "nesting" in preparation for him to get back. His room is pretty much finished, except for what needs to be hung on the walls. In reality, he'd be fine if nothing else gets hung up. Bambi has found a new corner, which is all he'll really care about.

His room turned out so well; there was a lot of hard work and love that went in to it. I don't pretend to have had any sort of significant part in that. My parents did most of it, though I did help some. If you'd ever seen his room (which is unlikely because it usually had clothes thigh-deep and you couldn't get past the door), you wouldn't even recognize it now. We hung new drywall on one wall - yes, we as in me, my mom, and my dad, together, no one else - painted the walls, put in crown molding, new baseboards, a new door frame, framed out the window, put in wood floors, and his new headboard will be here soon. Before Bambi found his new home, it looked like very beachy. Now, we affectionately call it Bambi's Beach Bungalow. I may post some before and after pictures, but not until he's see it. He has no idea what's in store for him.

Perhaps the most important "event" coming up is General Conference. I am so looking foward to camping out at home all weekend with my parents and being spiritually fed by these inspired men and women this weekend. As a kid, I dreaded going, but maybe that was because you had to go to the church and sit in the dark for two hours watching the broadcast in church clothes and uncomfortable chairs . As an adult, I appreciate it and look forward to watching all four sessions. But I also get to do so in comfy clothes and pig out on whatever junk we've stocked up on for the occassion.

Thank heaven for modern technology! And for three more e-mails. :-)

Car Alarm

Our friend, A, had a birthday on Sunday. We were going to see her at church, so we took a birthday card to her. Sometime during the first two hours of church, I realized that I left the card in the car. Not wanting my mom to scold me, I tried to think of the best time to run out to the car and get it. My dad still needed to sign it and A likes to sneak out as soon as she's finished playing the piano in Primary, so I knew that I had to either leave during the lesson in the last hour or really be fast right after church was over.

To be on the safe side, I decided to sneak out during the closing hymn in Relief Society and then go find my dad, roaming the halls somwhere, and get him to sign the card. Then I'd have to catch A before she left. It was a perfect plan and should work out nicely. Or so I thought. My mom's van was parked right outside of where she teaches the Laurel class (16- and 17-year-old girls), where we typically park every week.

Instead of interrupting her class, I used my key to get in the vehicle. I must've unlocked and opened the door too quickly because as soon as I did, the horn started blowing. It wasn't like I reached through the window, unlocked the door and opened it that way. I had a key!!! All I could think was "I have got to make this stop. She's going to kill me when she finds out that it's me making all the noise!" I finally got the alarm turned off and am still confused as to why it even did that. Once that was taken care of, I quickly noticed that the card wasn't even in the van. She had taken it in with her afterall! Thankfully, she just laughed about hearing it, even thinking it sounded familiar, but telling herself that it couldn't be her car because she hadn't touched her keys.

I guess that's because we're all older. It's funny how the dynamics between parents and childrem change when they're all adults. Most of the time, anyway... :-)

P.S. Blogger was a bear tonight with the formatting. It better be fixed by the next time I want to blog.

i know you haven't made your mind up yet, but i would never do you wrong

I struggle with agency. The one that means "the capacity, condition, or state of acting or of exerting power." Sometimes it's with my own, but often times it's with others'.

I struggle with my own when I think of times that I either didn't use it wisely or I didn't use it at all. I was probably scared or stupid or lazy during those periods in my life. If I could go back and do things over again, I might, but also know that those experiences have made me who I am. And not just the experiences themselves, but the consequences, too. The whole package. I can't, though, so it's silly to even entertain the thought. What I love is that mistakes can be corrected, wrongs can be made right and I can move forward on the path that I always saw myself or wanted to be on.

I struggle with other peoples' agency because I can't always understand what goes in to their decision making process or I don't understand what's behind the choices they make. It could be none of my business and not affect me in any way, but I sort of worry about the potential consequences that they face. The choices could have nothing to do with me, but directly affect me and the way I live my life and I worry about them and me and what the consequences mean for everyone. While I want so badly to do something about it, I really can't. Or I feel like I can't or shouldn't or am not entitled to.

I think I would just love for things to be black and white. Things, life is easier that way. But it isn't the case. There's all this grey area and lots of different shades of grey. I'm well aware of this, I just wish I couldn't see all the shades. If I only saw the black or the white and no grey, I might think less, I might be less crazy, I might worry and wonder less. I'd be very different, though, that's for sure.

Tonight I had the privilege of being at a Q&A fireside with Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He was in Orlando to speak a year or so ago, but I didn't go for various reasons. Upon hearing that he was back, I wasn't about to miss him again. As he mentioned more than once, this opportunity doesn't come along that often. I am beyond glad that I went. About three-quarters of the way through the meeting, it occurred to me that I was in a room of a couple hundred people. Up until that point, I felt like I was sitting in a room with him and maybe a handful of others. I'm sure that sounds strange, but I can't really describe it much better than that.

Talk about food for thought. I took a few pages of notes, which probably wouldn't make much sense to anyone else. Heck, I may not even be able to read it all tomorrow. In theory, I'd like to re-write them all and elaborate on what I thought he said or what I was getting out of what he was saying, but I don't think I will. I think I will tuck those notes in my journal to reference later... in life. I think I'll look forward to reading over them again, along with the feelings that I'll capture as I write in my journal tonight.

I know people that I feel are "spiritual giants" and that just ooze knowledge and experience when it comes to the Gospel. I wouldn't think to use "spiritual" as a way to describe myself and I've only ever heard one person say that they thought I was (to my face). I was taken aback when I heard it and just sort of thought "I wish! You are SO out of my league, so how you think that is beyond me. But... okay..." Of course, I didn't say that, though. I'm sure I just smiled and said the first goofball thing that came to my brain-o-mush. Then I tucked it away and decided that I needed to work on getting there. I may never hear someone say it again, but it's something that I'd like to be and that takes work. Constant work.

There were a couple of people that came to mind when thinking about who I could share my "excitement" with on the way home tonight. Unfortunately, they were unreachable for one reason or another. I was glad to be able to talk to my parents when I got home, but sometimes I feel like if I share those "I finally get it!" moments, they're going to think "What took you so long?" Maybe it's good that there was no one to spill my guts to. I was forced to reflect and was able to continue to take it all in. And I was reminded that I'm absolutely on the right track.

No Bueno

I thought that I'd be posting about the results of my first 15k, but that is not the case. I sprained my ankle yesterday, which made it impossible for me to run the race and I am pretty bummed. In fact, right now, I'd be running with B, but she's being a champ without me today.

Just after I turned 28, I busted my tailbone. Remember? The day after I turned 29, I sprained my ankle. Both incidences took place on or due to stairs and my inability to maneuver them. So I either need to avoid stairs in March or be extra, extra careful when I turn 30. I mean 29 for the second time.

I sort of wish that this injury had come with a little bit better story, but something tells me that any explaination would be embarrassing. See, what had happened was...

We got to Body Sculpt at 5:30 a.m., which means it's still pitch black outside. I dropped my stuff off on the little dock thing that we work out on, which is like a boardwalk-type contraption that opens up into a big area out over the lake (more like a pond) at the park. As I went to do my warm up lap, I couldn't see the steps that led back down to the sidewalk and I thought there were only three steps, but there were four.

I'm not sure if I realized mid-stride that I was wrong or what, but I ended up landing on my right foot and my body kept going. That's my best recollection of those quick five seconds anyway. And I was not alone, so two other people witnessed my clumsiness. Fantastic. They were really sweet about it, though. They stood with me while I tried to figure out if I was hurt and how bad it was. I wasn't bleeding and no bones were jutting out of skin, so I was going to survive.

I ended up staying through the class and just did what I could and my ankle just started to get puffier and puffier, but I am hard core, so I wasn't leaving. Ha! Actually, I just did arms and abs. I was already awake, so I figured it'd be silly to bail at that point. I knew that I wouldn't be able to make the race, though. B told me that I shouldn't get crazy and should take a rest day like the training says. I should've listened to her! Had I, I wouldn't be blogging, I'd be in Jacksonville with her right now.

It's still pretty swollen. And I hate having to use crutches. I'd rather crawl around to get where I need to go, but that's out of the question, too, because my left knee got scraped (the kind that's reminiscent of falling off your bike in elementary school). I'm a hot mess. I'm just going to have to take it easy for the next few days. Hopefully I'll be back running in a week or two. Surely it doesn't take forever to recover from a sprained ankle. Does it?

And it least it was now and not any closer to the Marine Corps Marathon. Thank heaven for small favors.