Spring, yellow lights, and bathroom stalls.

Come on, Bloggers... we're getting lazy.

The truth, actually, is that I've been noticing some blog-worthy things here and there, but none is really enough to warrant a full post. So I'm going to combine some things.

1. THE CROCUSES ARE BLOOMING!!!! You know what that means.. SPRING is officially here!! It's still nippy, especially when the Chicago wind kicks in, but it's tolerable now. Now we know that there really is light at the end of the tunnel, and it's not the headlights of an oncoming train! On that note, I started running again.. I'm easing myself in slowly, and I've registered to run a 5K in my neighborhood on Sunday, April 26th. If anyone wants to join me, give a holler!

2. I've noticed that in my morning walk to the train, I am relaxed and calm until I am exactly one block away from the station. As soon as I hit the one block point, I start walking faster, my body gets tense, and I get a little more anxious. When the lights start flashing, the bells start ringing and the crossing gate starts closing, I have to decide whether or not I am too far away to run. There is a magic line somewhere on the block that denotes this, but I'm never exactly sure where it is. So for the whole block I have to play the hypothetical game.. if the train comes now, should I run? No, I think I'm still too far away. Well, maybe I could make it.. What about now? Most of the time it's all for naught because the train doesn't come until I'm already in the station. But sometimes it does. I have learned recently that I usually take the 7:52 train, so now I can time my walk. I used to just get there when I got there, and I never knew when the alarms would sound... I wonder if everyone else has the same anxiety. It's like passing under a stale green light when you have to judge.. if it turns yellow now, should I stop or go?

3. And perhaps the most important... Office bathroom protocol. I am new to bathroom stalls in the workplace, and I have to confess I find them a bit unsettling. Previously my workplace bathroom was like a residential bathroom, so you shut the door and had all the privacy in the world. But now everything is out-of-whack. I hate arriving in the restroom only to see that one of the stalls is occupied. And I hate it when I'm already there and somebody else walks in. Often, in the silence, I get stagefright and can't do what I went in to do. Sometimes I reason I'll just wait until the other person leaves to take care of business, but sometimes it seems like the other person has the same idea. Then it becomes this awkward game of chicken before someone risks discovery and leaves the safety of the stall. I know that there are some people who will read this and think that I analyze too much (probably men), and there will be some who read this and say, "oh my gosh! that happens to me too!" (probably women). So I'm just putting it out there. It's a totally annoying phenomenon.

The Terrible, Horrible..

It's one of those days where everything I try to do doesn't work.

I have had an IT guy up to my desk 3 times already today about one issue, and been on the phone twice with another about a different issue.

Even though it is GORGEOUS today, I think I won't try skydiving or deep-sea diving.

Look at all that Grandma love!

Nightmares

This past weekend we visited Jen, Kevin, Elinore and Tobin and I stayed in Elinore's room. She slept on her inflatable mattress by the window, I slept in the bed. I came prepared with ear plugs in case of any unexpected noise etc, so the first night was fine. The second night however, there was a disturbance. I woke up at around 3 am to use the restroom and shortly after my return I hear a half sob and my name. Elinore was awake and about in tears. I asked her what was wrong and she said she wanted to go to mama's room. I went and sat next to her and asked if she had had a bad dream. Yes. What happened? I looked out the window and I couldn't see Mama (another sob). I told her to try and go back to sleep and if she really couldn't we'd think of something. So she settled back down and I got back into bed.

It seemed she'd gone back to sleep when I heard her again (an hr later). Lou lou? I can't sleep. So I told her she could come and snuggle with me if she wanted...I think she was hoping we could chat. She started trying to talk but I cut off conversation with a "I need you to try and go back to sleep". Two mins later Elinore announced she was ready to go back to her bed and slept the rest of the evening. In the morning I reiterated the evening's events to Jen and discovered that Elinore couldn't see Mama because the wolves had taken her (we had read a book with wolves in it and apparently Elinore had just seen Babe where the 'wolves' kill Ma the sheep). Even as we talked about it Elinore looked like she was about to burst into tears again and Jen was right in front of her. I think next time we'll stick with a happier book before bed.

While we were visiting Tobin also took some steps all on his own!! He's going to be walking before anyone's ready for it.

The Aftermath

After blogging enthusiastically about my dinner party and making you all wild with jealousy, I hit a major snafu. It turns out those plantains were A LOT more trouble than I thought. While peeling them with my bare hands, the tips of my thumbs started to get sore underneath the fingernail. I figured I had just separated the skin from the nail a little bit and went on working. Then I had the party, blah, blah, blah, but the next day the thumbs were a little more tender. I put band-aids on them and went about my day.

Sunday night, however, I kept waking up because my left thumb was throbbing. When I finally got up for good and took off the band-aid, it was not a pretty sight. My left thumb was hot, red, swollen, and still throbbing with every heartbeat. As soon as I touched the tip (close your eyes if you don't want to read this), it started oozing. Immediately I knew that I was in danger of losing my thumb and maybe my entire arm if I didn't fix this STAT. So I called Mom, who told me to put neosporin on it or see the doctor if it would make me feel better.

I assumed the doctor would just give me some antibiotics, tell me to take an advil and send me on my way, but she took one look and said,

"You're not going to want to hear this, but I'm going to have to refer you to a hand surgeon."

WHAT?!

She pointed out the dark spots deep underneath my nail that were actually pieces of debris (from the plantain) that had to come out, and informed me that general practitioners don't usually like to deal with hands because they are so complex, and what on earth was I doing to have this happen? When I explained about the plantain, she remained stoic, but I'm sure she was thinking, how did this girl ever make it through the natural selection process from our primate ancestors? Our primate ancestors who survived, I might add, by peeling and eating bananas and plantains. That's what our disposable, I mean opposable, thumbs evolved to DO! And here I am, about to be killed by one!!

Thankfully, she offered to give it a try herself if I was game to avoid me having to try to get in to see a hand surgeon and pay the extra cost. She numbed up my thumb by injecting anesthetic into the ball of my thumb and then went to work, digging and sweeping. I'll spare you the details, but mention that half-way through the numbness wore off, and it was NOT a pleasant experience.

Despite it all, my thumb is making a full recovery, though I might be swearing off green plantains for a good while.

The Moors and the Christians

Last night I hosted a dinner party that is going down in the books as a smashing success. I carefully selected the guests on the criteria that 1) each person knew at least one other person besides me and 2) that they had similar temperaments to create an overall harmonius dynamic. Our final count was 8. A few people couldn't attend, which turned out to be good because I remembered while washing dishes before everyone arrived that I only have 8 place settings! The stage was set for a 6:30 curtain call...


The meal was Latin-inspired, and all of the recipes except one came from the cookbook Laura got me a few years ago. It seemed simple enough:

Appetizer: Cocktails and Twice-cooked plantains with Cilantro dipping sauce (from various Central American countries)
Main: Black beans and rice (from Cuba) -- also known as moros y cristianos or moors and christians for the black on white aspect.
Side: Sauteed collard greens (from Brazil)
Dessert: Tres Leches Cake -- three milks cake (the national dessert of Nicaragua, and also served in parts of southern Mexico)

My plan was to make as much as possible ahead of time so I could enjoy my guests once they arrived. I ran into a few snags along the way. (But would it be my life if I didn't?) The black bean dish called for cachuca peppers which I'd never heard of. But then it said you could substitute with rocotillo peppers which I'd never heard of. I went to two grocery stores--one being my local market which carries a lot of specialty items for the Hispanic community, and there were no cachucas or rocotillos to be found. On a whim I grabbed a packet of dried chipotle peppers and figured I would improvize.


Back on the homefront I made a list of all the prep work to be done (including cleaning the bathroom and sweeping the floors), and spent the whole afternoon chopping and dicing. The cake was done and in the fridge by noon, but the plantains, which were supposed to be so easy, were the biggest pain of all! The recipe I used called for green plantains, and I'd only ever used the black ones. Peeling a green plantain is no easy feat! There's probably some technique to it, but it was like peeling bark off a tree with your bare hands. I'm surprised I didn't come away with a splinter! I did end up with my fingers stained black from the juice inside the peel and a band-aide wrapped around each thumb this morning. Digging in with my fingernails was not the best idea.


Once I had them all peeled and sliced, the recipe said to boil them for 15 minutes or until "very tender." Then you were supposed to have at them with a rolling pin or meat mallet to squash them to 1/4 inch thick. As I have neither, I went to work with the back of a frying pan, but the suckers would NOT be smashed! It was like they were holding out on principle. I decided to put the half I hadn't gotten to yet back in boiling water to soften them up some more while I baked the ones I had crumbled into a million pieces. I must have boiled that second batch for AN HOUR and they never got "very tender."


The beans went according to plan, but before they started to simmer I soaked a few of the dried chipotle peppers, sliced them open to get the seeds out and threw the whole skins in the pot to add flavor. It turned out to be the best decision I may have ever made. In my life. The beans were DELICIOUS (if I may be so bold).


I was still running around like a crazy woman--a GIANT bowl of cooked rice in the oven keeping warm, a huge stockpot of beans simmering on the stove, a plateful of crumbly plantains on the table, another bowl of (somewhat) tender slices ready to be flattened, and a mountain of shredded greens with pre-chopped onion and garlic waiting in the wings to be flash cooked the moment the guests sat down at the table, when... the doorbell rang. It was 6:10. I hadn't swept the floor, hadn't put the leaves in the table, hadn't changed my shirt or even combed my hair!


It was Peter, the one American that I invited to the soiree, and of course he was early! Thankfully he dove right in, smashing the plantains with the frying pan, and then blending all the ingredients I kept throwing at him for the cilantro dipping sauce we ended up serving with the dry and crumbly plantains. By that time my roommate, Emily, had gotten home and went about setting up the table and the dining room. Then it was 6:30, the magic hour, and I laughed as one by one (as I knew they would), my European friends called to say they were just leaving their houses and would be a little late. I had tried to warn Peter earlier in the day that if I say 6:30, it means my friends will arrive between 7 and 7:15, but I don't think he believed me.


But there was no rush. Everyone arrived, we poured the wine and got to relax in the living room over plantains with cilantro sauce. I was a little disappointed with the plantains, but it seemed like it was a first time for most everyone, so they were easy to please. At 8, stomachs started growling, and we moved to the dining room and had a feast of Moors and Christians (which were spiced to perfection, let me just reiterate) and crunchy greens. Wine and conversation flowed easily.


Finally it was time for dessert. I served each person a piece of the unassuming white cake. It wass completely unadorned except for the bowl of toasted coconut I put on the table, and actually looked kind of boring. But when we bit into it, our mouths were instantly flooded with the mixture of the three milks that the cake absorbed. The cake was a light and fluffy mirengue (sp?) which you then poke holes in and pour a mixture of sweetened condensed, evaporated, and coconut milks over. As the cake cools in the fridge it soaks up the milk like a sponge.


After the cake and coffee/tea the atmosphere was still going strong. People started talking about a digestif. All I had was a bottle of rum that someone had given me as a gift after a trip to the Dominican Republic. So we got out the mismatched shot glasses, toasted our health and happiness, and downed the smoothest of rums--the perfect end to the Latin evening.


What a great time on such a snowy day! Wish you all could have been here, but you probably would have had to stand and eat out of a coffee mug. Another time...

A Taste of Spring

Yesterday's temperatures in Chicago reached a record-breaking 55 degrees! I thought my heart would burst for sheer relief! After hearing the news and rejoicing, but before leaving for work, I had a moment of bewilderment when I was "coating up" at the door. What do we do when it's 55? What kind of coat do we wear? Do we wear a coat at all? gloves? scarf? hat? I couldn't remember. Not having access to the outside from my apartment, it's not so easy to just walk out on the deck, stand there for a minute, and feel the air.

I opted for a suede jacket with a light scarf, though I tucked gloves and a hat into my bag just in case. As I walked to the train, breathing deeply of the warm breeze, I looked around. It seemed everyone else had the same giddy excitement coupled with amnesia. There were people with winter coats open, people with nothing but a fleece, and even a jogger who ran by with capri pants and a tank top!

Yes, we seemed to collectively sigh, spring is coming. Steps were lighter (I guess it's a given when you're not weighed down by an extra 7 lbs of winter-gear), eyes were brighter, and hearts were merry. It seemed a smile was on the corner of every lip and a measure of goodwill in each soul.

My only complaint (and it's minor) is that even once hat-weather goes, the Chicago wind stays. What I don't realize in winter is that wearing the hat keeps my hair from perpetually flying in my face. Without the hat, I'm toast. I try for a while to brush the hair away, but eventually give up and walk down the street looking like It. It's fruitless.

Unfortunately, our spring-like fever is going to be short-lived. Tomorrow the temperatures are scheduled to plunge again. Today, however, is still warmish--in the 40s, but it's raining. The question is, will the spring spirit last even when we're all soggy?

I'm about to find out.

Curve Ball

Back in September I had an inkling that maybe I should try teaching piano lessons. The next day in a catch-up conversation with a former colleague I mentioned my idea, and she immediately volunteered her daughter to be my first student. A little caught off guard, I tried to buy myself a little more time to figure out HOW to teach piano lessons.. what books to buy? how to start? what to do? I contacted an old teacher for advice, and then nervously agreed to start.

Over the last 5 months I've added students one by one, mostly by referral, and have become increasingly comfortable in my teacher role. My students and their pianos come in all shapes and sizes--from electric keyboards propped on kitchen tables to baby grands in bay windows.

This morning, however, lest things become dull, I got an email from one student's mother announcing that her daughter had broken her right pinky finger. She can't write or do sports, her mother informed me, but she really wants to continue piano. Can you focus on the left hand?

My go-getter spirit chimed in and I figured I would rise to the challenge. Probably her fingers were splinted together, but the piece we had been working on actually only used her first 3 fingers in the right hand. When I got to her house this afternoon, however, her entire right hand up to her elbow was in a soft cast! Her babysitter matter-of-factly reassured me that it will probably only be about a month. That's 2 hours of piano lesson time. With one hand.

So this is a new challenge indeed. I have a one-handed piano student. Suggestions welcome.

Major Surgery

Elinore is learning what it means to take care of her things. We've told her, "You have to be gentle with this baby doll because she is made of glass and can break." I guess you just have to figure things out for yourself. Yesterday she threw her baby from the stairs and she landed on the wood floor shattering one of her hands. Elinore cried and cried, but it was too late. I gave her the option of cutting off her hand and sewing up her arm or throwing her away. She decided, "one hand is not so bad."

So today her baby had an amputation and is being nursed back to health by a very attentive nurse.


On another note: Whenever we eat a meal Elinore likes to pretend that she is Aunt Loulou. I am Grandma B., Kevin is Grandpa B., and Tobin is...Aunt Caity.

Thought you'd get a kick out of that.

JEEEZ

Caity here are the two pictures you wanted. This is going to have to do since I can't seem to find any other way to get them to you. You're on your own from here on out. Good luck

Winter Parking, Part 2

Some people were rightfully appalled by the Chicago "spot saving" phenomenon and couldn't imagine what a street would look like with spot savers. I took some photos to document my block. If you would like to read more on this issue: http://www.nbcchicago.com/around_town/the_scene/Enough-With-the-Folding-Chairs.html?corder=&pg=1#comments This is a 1/14/09 article from the Chicago Tribune.

On another note, I don't want to jinx it, but I am starting a new job next week! It's part-time in the mornings and early afternoon so I can still teach piano, and it is a company that I'm very excited that I'm very excited about! The one that I mentioned in a previous post... Hopefully I'll have more to share in the coming weeks!

I GOT IN! I GOT IN!!!!!!!!!!

I emailed the woman from Loyola again today to ask what my status was on my application. And she said a decision had been reached and I could contact any of the counselors and I was given a number. So I called and asked what my status was and they said "you have been admitted to Loyola and your admittance letter will be in the mail within the next two days". I GOT IN!!!!!!!!!!! I GOT IN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wisconsin Dells

We journeyed to the Wisconsin Dells for a few days this past week to go cross-country skiing. The first day was by far the better day, with temperatures being more bearable, in the 20s. We all agreed that the state park we skiied at reminded us of the tree farm we went to in MI many years ago. I seem to be the only one who falls while skiing, mainly because I can't turn very well, so going down the hills and having to turn doesn't work out so well. I fell twice, once on each hip to even out the bruising. The second day of skiing wasn't nearly as enjoyable as the temps dropped to -4 with windchills in the -10ish area. Normally our hands and feet get warm once we get moving, but not this day. After 30 mins of moving I still could not feel my hands or my feet and after we got back to the car I noticed that the hair that had been near my nose and mouth was covered in droplets of ice, so I felt it was imperative that I document it.

In addition to going skiing, the timeshare we stayed at was connected to 3 different indoor waterparks and we had option of using them if we wanted, though 1 was closed for cleaning and maintenance. The other 2 were equally elaborate in its own way. The Wild West waterpark was also connected to a HUGE arcade and giant jungle gym where you could shoot nerf balls at people. We didn't go in there but we heard about it from Aunt Susie. In the Wild West park there were several tube rides, a jungle gym pool, wave pool and hot tub--that went outside. We chose to go on a tube ride called the Black Hole. It was a single person ride that sent you through a pitch black tube and then suddenly dropped you into a large circular contraption that spun you around like you were getting flushed down the toilet before spitting you out at the end of the ride. Not my favorite as I got a gush of water in my eyes and thought I may have lost a contact (I didn't). We also went on a family ride, also pitch black, that sent you through spraying water, swirling and twirling the whole way down. All of the rides started inside, but the tubes all were outside, somehow, despite them not being insulated, the water stayed warm. After several turns on the tube rides, we headed to the wave pool, where Dad jumped around with the tube over his head and looked like he had a donut sitting on his shoulders. Then we decided to hang out in the hot tub and even dared to venture to the outside portion of it, where it was snowing!

Once the water no longer felt warm, we dried off a bit and headed to the other waterpark Klondike Cavern. We had heard a lot about a ride called the Hurricane from Aunt Susie, so we decided to give it a try. We climbed what felt like 10 flights of stairs before reaching the entrance where they played background sounds of a thunderstorm (not my favorite sound in the world). It was a four person ride, though you could go with 2 or 3 as long as you met weight requirements--they had you stand on a scale as a group before allowing you to get situated. When we sat down in the tube, I couldn't help noticing that the seats were awfully small, but I wedged myself in. I was sent BACKWARDS into ANOTHER pitch black tube where we whipped and turned and all of a sudden...DROPPED--I left my stomach several feet above me as it felt like I free-fell to the brightly lit funnel below. We ended up in an ENORMOUS funnel shapped structure that you dropped into and slid up one side till you thought you'd flip, then slid you to the other side, even higher up the wall. Then you got slowed down by a jet of water that sent you down the rapids and out. Mom and I screamed the whole way down. After wiggling our way out of the tube, I understood why the seat was so small, they wanted you wedged in tight enough that you wouldn't fall out. We all looked at each other and decided to do it again and again (we made Dad go down backwards the next time). Then we grabbed some tubes and floated on the lazy river before jumping into another hot tub. Just before we were going to leave, we heard a bell ringing, signaling that a giant bucket that had been filling with water was about to tip and dump the water over everyone's heads. Mom and I looked in its direction and when we looked back, Dad was gone and racing across the bridge, throwing children out of his way to be one of the kids to get dumped on, some guy even brought his infant over to be cascaded with water. Dad said the kid next to him got hit by the water and then disappeared from the force. Clearly he's the biggest kid in the crowd. We called it a night as we hadn't had dinner yet and went back to heat up the lasagna...Mom and Dad took their second nap of the day during the wait.

We found it very strange to see snow out the window while we walked around in bathing suits and towels, so we captured a picture of dad with his swim trunks and flannel shirt...what you can't see is that he's also wearing his moccasins--very shnazzy. We realized that winter is really the best time to come because summer would be a mad house! So we'll have to make another trip sometime, hopefully with more opportunities to cross-country ski.

A Winter Wedding Continued

So we made it to the reception, despite the crazy winds, in one piece. As Halley, Sara (another bridesmaid and college roommate), and I exited the car bundled in our winter coats, scarves over our heads and teeth chattering, we ran into the photographer who hinted that we may be taking photos outside...what??? Well at least we'll be able to wear our coats--no? no coats?? So we trekked upstairs to round-up our fellow groomsmen and bridesmaids who had arrived before us and were already hitting the open bar. We took the elevator back down and met Kristin and Steve in the foyer, before heading outside and walking several blocks to a nearby park where we were taking pictures; and yes for a few of the pictures we de-coated and braved the freezing winds. We were then allowed to put our coats back on and take the rest with coats. However, Kristin had no coat, just arm length gloves and a faux-fur capelet. When Halley and I returned to the reception hall, it took a tasty margarita to warm us up. We were announced, toasts were given and dinner finally came. Unfortunately, I could barely eat anything because only 2 days before the wedding I got the bug that Jen, Kevin and the rest of the continental US seemed to have and upon arrival at Halley's, I had to quickly excuse myself because I got sick (sounds eerily familiar to Mike's first meeting of Jen and Kevin). The first picture is before the toasts began of all the bridesmaids and jr bridesmaid, minus the maid of honor. The three of us in the middle were roommates with Kristin senior yr.

Mike was in charge of pictures and he missed some picture opportunities of the Macedonian bread dance. Step right, left, right kick left, kick right and step with your right foot. The matrons of the family hold a hanky and lead the dance--Kristin began it, then her mom, then her grandma. At the end of the dance Kristin's uncle brings a huge loaf of sweet bread into the middle of the dance floor and Kristin and Steve break it--the one who ends up with the most on his/her half wears the pants in the relationship; Kristin won! Then the bridal party dance with our matched groomsmen, I can't remember my partner's name, but he was the only sober groomsman besides the best man.

The next pictures are from the bouquet toss--the big black mark on Kristin's shoulder is a tattoo, the cover-up makeup she bought didn't cover it. One of the flower girls, a cousin of Kristin, caught the bouquet and she looked MAD, disgusted almost by the bouquet, but she wasn't--just a picture caught at the wrong time. It was brought to my attention by both the flowergirls and jr bridesmaid's parents that they thought I was hilarious--I did my best to keep them entertained during pictures since I noticed they were getting bored and starting to pick at their flowergirl bouquets. Overall, we had a great time, though we were a little bummed more people didn't dance--the largest number of dancers were during the Macedonian dances. Just before we left, with 15 mins or so before the were sending us out, Kristin and Steve's cousins gave the DJ some music they had brought with them: heavy metal. It was interesting. The 3 guys and their dates started a 6 person mosh pit, to which Kristin joined. Very different. But it was a lot of fun to see my roomies and see Kristin get married!

A Winter Wedding

It was brought to my attention that
I completely forgot to post from the wedding I was in in Dec. One of my roommate from college was married in Plymouth, MI and I was asked to be a bridesmaid. It was on Dec. 28th and she looked absolutely gorgeous. The first picture is obviously of my hair...which I chose to do myself rather than pay to get it done at the salon. To make sure it lasted I must have put half a bottle of superhold hairspray in...when I took out the clips after the wedding my hair remained perfectly in place.

The second picture is Kristin and her Husband Steve--he's in the army and just this past April returned home from a 2 yr dispatch to Iraq. Kristin's dress had quite a train on it, though you can't see it in this picture. Since they chose not to see each other before the wedding we did pictures of the bridesmaids and bride together and my former roommate, Halley, and I were on train duty--moving that thing around, we were pretty much great at it. The third picture is of Halley and me after the wedding, waiting to do more pictures.

The fourth is Halley and her boyfriend Chris and Mike (my fiance) and me. We were quite stylish. The day of the rehearsal it was around 50 degrees...however a big windstorm blew in and dropped the temp down to around 20 with a wind chill of around 2 and it was WINDY. But that superhold hairspray did its job and my hair never moved out of place.

Winter parking's no walk in the park...

In Chicago, when the winter winds blow and mountains of snow cover the ground, street parking becomes a new kind of challenge. Often plows that make it down the street improve the roads, but make parking nearly impossible with a ridge of packed snow and ice that you have to drive over to get in or out of a spot. I've been shoveling gradually over the last few days, trying to keep up with new accumulation, and watching with anxiety as all of my neighbors pull out their milk crates, plastic cones, and dining room chairs as "spot savers."

Spot saving is totally faux pas in many people's opinion (mine included)--EVERYONE has to shovel out their spot. Reserving a spot is bad etiquette. Everytime I looked out the window this week, all the empty spots on my street had some of the aforementioned "savers" in them. Who wants to be the one to tick off the neighbors by moving the spot saver and parking anyway? It's not like it would be anonymous. My car would be there, guilty.

My plan thus far has just been to avoid driving, thus no worries about losing my spot. But today, it had to be done. I went out with my roommate in the -8 degree weather (-27 degree windchills!!) to shovel out. She broke up the chunks and I removed them. All the while I debated in my head if I should get something to save my spot. In the end, I decided against it. It makes me so mad when other people save spots, and it would make me a hippocrate to do the same. I resigned myself to having to walk (and maybe cry) when I got back.

But...

When I got home..... my spot was FREE!!!! I parked, came upstairs, and did a celebratory dance. Now if I could just get a health insurance company to sell me a plan...

Rejected

Dear Ms. Bodine:

Thank you for your application for coverage with Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Illinois. Upon careful review, we determined you are not eligible for coverage.

Our decision was based on our current underwriting guidelines and your medical history.

....

We appreciate and value your interest in Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Illinois. We respectfully regret a more favorable decision is not available.

Apparently the minstrel lifestyle is going to be harder than I thought. Not only is a stable income hard to come by, but you can't get health insurance either. Just for the record, the medical history that they specifically mentioned as the reason for my rejection is PREVENTATIVE CARE.

WHY is health insurance in our country a for-profit business?? My plan of action today is to call my doctor (who is also operating in a for-profit business), since I am a good customer, and see if he can do anything on my behalf. Health care is the US is messed up, and this is how I feel:

Toby

He just keeps getting bigger and lots of fun. His front teeth just came through this week (finally!). He also said his first word (well, repeated anyway). Ella. He can say "ella". It is so sweet!

Waiting

As most of you know I've been searching for a new job for a few months, but given our economic situation the pickins are slim. About a month ago my former workplace proposed a part-time, temporary gig that could have tied me over for a few months. It was a tough spot--the pay would have been generous, and trust me, I could use it, but in my gut I was resisting.

I felt like leaving the first time was a hard decision and then it took me a few months and a few thousand miles to really cleanse my system, reset my dials and start interacting with life at a different pace. I worried that despite having changed and grown myself, stepping back into that same old context would not take long to sweep me up in the rush of the current. I would be back to square one.

My intimating to friends about this tough decision I was struggling with, led an acquaintance to guide me to a position opening with his company. Ironically enough, this particular company is one I've been eyeing for years, but have just never been available when they were filling vacancies. I immediately applied, and it gave me the courage to follow my gut with my former company and decline.

Then I waited. I started getting nervous because I hadn't heard anything, but chalked it up to the holidays. Finally I got an email from someone to set up an interview! As coincidence would have it, the woman who interviewed me was the very same I had met a year and a half ago when an out-of-town friend invited me to dinner with some of her colleagues. I had exchanged business cards with this woman, and we had learned that we shared a common acquaintance in addition to my out-of-town friend. We never had contact again, though I kept her business card, UNTIL she emailed me to set up an interview!

Thankfully she remembered me and it took the edge off our phone interview. I felt like it went well, but I probably won't know anything until the end of next week. She's on vacation until next Wednesday. And so I'm waiting. And waiting. And waiting. I really reallly really really want this job. I love them. They should love me too.

My concern now is how rested I feel. I feel like considering the circumstances that led me to and through this interview process, the fact that the position itself is a great fit for my skills and strengths, and the fact that the company's purpose is so closely aligned with my background and interests means THIS IS IT. But what if I'm wrong?

Pray for me, if you do that. If not, how about a Care Bear Stare? Or hold hands with your neighbor and sing Kum-Ba-Yah while thinking of me and this job. Together we can get me employed.

Welcome 2009!

2009, I have high hopes for you. If 2008 was a year of detoxification—one that drew out (sometimes painfully) all the irritants, negativity, and dead-ends that had accumulated, then I am beginning this new year wide-eyed and empty-handed. As I sit and think about my resolutions the usual suspects are there--exercise regularly, eat healthfully, etc, but there are some hopes that are new to my annual list. Perhaps not new per se, but evolutions of the old—new perspectives enlightened by the lessons of 2008.

If there’s one thing I hope for above anything else it is to be able to distinguish those lessons and absorb them. Then I hope that once absorbed, I remain open to continued insight. If there is a rift between who I am and who I want to be, I want to learn its name. I want to take the time to explore and hone in on what it is that lights me up in this life, and then move in that direction.

I hope to find enjoyment and satisfaction in a career that fits my character and provides a stimulating balance with my personal life.

I want to manage money wisely, making savvy decisions and choices, but with a mind-set of abundance rather than scarcity.

I hope to learn to use discernment when choosing to invest my energy in friendships that kindle mutual love and enrichment.

I want to fall in love.  The good kind.

The latter half of 2008 has caused me to turn inward and reflect, perhaps in excess. So one last one—I want to choose one campaign or issue or organization that brings good to the world. I want to educate myself and get involved in some tangible way so as not to become stuck in ignorance, resignation, or complacency.

So, 2009, come in! May you bring LIGHT and CLARITY and WHOLENESS.