There is something wonderful about clicking the "create" button. What will I create with the clicking of these keys? Will it be worth reading? Will it somehow inform or brighten your day?
I believe in the idea that if I'm taking the time to write something for you, it should be something that will be worth your time to read. I have not always lived up to this idea. Hopefully my ranting about work is at least entertaining, but it is not necessary for you to know the frustrations of trying to please customers who simply cannot be pleased. We live in a society of instant gratification. Sometimes we must just deal with what life dishes out.
2.28.2006
Surely you're joking.......
- Fed-ex delivered the package to your NEIGHBOR? Was the driver dyslexic that day?
- Your customer service has REALLY been THAT HORRIBLE? I mean, we get a bit touchy sometimes, but we do try to be polite.
- oh good! you liked the gloves...and you're ordering two more pair? That's not a joke, that's a person I like.
- YOUR dog chewed through your watchband and you're being irritable with ME?! Train your dog!! You expect free expedited shipping? Get over it.
2.17.2006
wedding bel.....er.., bagpipes
There was a wedding on Saturday the 11th of February. It involved two of my cousins, my aunt, my uncle and myself, various other people, including my mother, my boyfriend, a lovely social worker from El Salvador, a softball player who made the wedding cake and a photographer from TBN who happened to be a first cousin of the bride. The wedding ceremony itself included a bagpipe, organ and snare drum processional, an operatic bass solo sung by the father of the bride and an oboe solo by her sister. The ceremony ended with a blessing of the couple done by the someone from First Presbyterian in Mendocino, California. He blessed the couples' eyes, ears, mouths, hearts and finished by kneeling on the steps of the dais in front of over 300 people and blessed the couples feet.
2.14.2006
The Secret
Every superhero needs a good secret weapon. I'm no superhero, but the closest thing I have to a hero or a weapon is my mother. Here's why:
After earning a degree in biology from Minot State University my mother joined the Peace Corps. She was sent to Ethiopia where she spent two years teaching science in a school in the village of Hosanna, near Addis Ababba. (accent on both first syllables please.) She returned home, experienced culture shock and chose to return to Ethiopia. Unfortunately the Peace Corps program in Ethiopia had disbanded due to unrest in the country. She went to the headmaster of her school in Hosanna and asked for a job. He accepted her back and she spent the next two years there teaching as an independent person living in the Ethiopian culture. When she returned she'd been changed physically and emotionally. This was in the early seventies.
She married my father in June of 1977. I was born in 1982. We lived on a small farm in Central North Dakota. If you look at a map of the US you will see that this is the middle, of the middle, of the middle of nowhere. There is nowhere else on the North American continent that is farther from a major city. Dallas, Seattle, LA and New York City are all on the coasts of our continent. This is the center.
After my mother's experiences in Ethiopia she was somewhat committed to raising her child in such a way that if that child ever became a missionary to a third world country, she would not deal with culture shock. We had an automatic washer and dryer for awhile. Then mom donated them to HavIt, an organization in a nearby small town that provided housing and work for the developmentally challenged.
I know how to wash clothes using an old-fashioned wringer washer. Should you ever wonder how, I will tell you. I will also describe the experience of a 5-year-old who accidentally sticks her little fingers through the wringer with the clothes.
Part of the reason she donated the automatic washer and dryer was that we have iron rich well water on our farm. Our clothes received rust stains. We didn't install a shower until I was in junior high. I developed a rusty sheen on my hair after this installment. It was about this time that she purchased a microwave from the nearby thrift store. She also purchased a new color tv and a vcr. I'd grown up with used black and white televisions that only really got CBS and PBS.
This was also when I first got heat in my upstairs room. Dad got an electric baseboard heater from the local electric company and strung wires up through the wall to put electric heat in my room. Up to this point I'd gotten by with an electric blanket. The temperature drops to negative 30 degrees outdoors in the winter. The average temperature in my room in January without heat was around 50 degrees.
This is how I grew up. This is my life. Please understand and please do not think I was abused in any way. I always knew that my parents loved me. This was the life that they CHOSE.
Books have always had the utmost importance in our family and the walls of my parents home are covered with books still. We did not talk much as we spent winters together in our farm house. We simply curled up with a book and a cat, each in our own seperate room of the house. The wind howled outside and the blizzards raged. And I lost myself somewhere in a book.
After earning a degree in biology from Minot State University my mother joined the Peace Corps. She was sent to Ethiopia where she spent two years teaching science in a school in the village of Hosanna, near Addis Ababba. (accent on both first syllables please.) She returned home, experienced culture shock and chose to return to Ethiopia. Unfortunately the Peace Corps program in Ethiopia had disbanded due to unrest in the country. She went to the headmaster of her school in Hosanna and asked for a job. He accepted her back and she spent the next two years there teaching as an independent person living in the Ethiopian culture. When she returned she'd been changed physically and emotionally. This was in the early seventies.
She married my father in June of 1977. I was born in 1982. We lived on a small farm in Central North Dakota. If you look at a map of the US you will see that this is the middle, of the middle, of the middle of nowhere. There is nowhere else on the North American continent that is farther from a major city. Dallas, Seattle, LA and New York City are all on the coasts of our continent. This is the center.
After my mother's experiences in Ethiopia she was somewhat committed to raising her child in such a way that if that child ever became a missionary to a third world country, she would not deal with culture shock. We had an automatic washer and dryer for awhile. Then mom donated them to HavIt, an organization in a nearby small town that provided housing and work for the developmentally challenged.
I know how to wash clothes using an old-fashioned wringer washer. Should you ever wonder how, I will tell you. I will also describe the experience of a 5-year-old who accidentally sticks her little fingers through the wringer with the clothes.
Part of the reason she donated the automatic washer and dryer was that we have iron rich well water on our farm. Our clothes received rust stains. We didn't install a shower until I was in junior high. I developed a rusty sheen on my hair after this installment. It was about this time that she purchased a microwave from the nearby thrift store. She also purchased a new color tv and a vcr. I'd grown up with used black and white televisions that only really got CBS and PBS.
This was also when I first got heat in my upstairs room. Dad got an electric baseboard heater from the local electric company and strung wires up through the wall to put electric heat in my room. Up to this point I'd gotten by with an electric blanket. The temperature drops to negative 30 degrees outdoors in the winter. The average temperature in my room in January without heat was around 50 degrees.
This is how I grew up. This is my life. Please understand and please do not think I was abused in any way. I always knew that my parents loved me. This was the life that they CHOSE.
Books have always had the utmost importance in our family and the walls of my parents home are covered with books still. We did not talk much as we spent winters together in our farm house. We simply curled up with a book and a cat, each in our own seperate room of the house. The wind howled outside and the blizzards raged. And I lost myself somewhere in a book.
random thoughts
Sherman Alexie is from the Spokane area. He's the author of "The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven" which is the book that the movie Smoke Signals is based upon. Jim Boyd is also a local, I think. There is a music store here that sells his music. (He is a Native American folk singer.) Smoke Signals has some scenes that were shot here. Also, the movie Bennie and Joon was shot in Peaceful Valley, which is a small neighborhood near the river and under the Maple Street Bridge.
(I tried riding my bike across the Maple Street Bridge at around 8:30 p.m. one evening this past fall. The pedestrian lane is basically a fenced "tunnel" that is suspended over the river next two four lanes of traffic. Halfway across I came across a small bicycle that someone had removed the seat from and left on the concrete walkway. "Why is that there?" I thought. Had someone been accosted and had their bicycle wrecked? THAT was when I looked around and realized I was trapped in a tunnel with no way out and if someone should try to stop me or harm me I was trapped. To my right was a street with traffic and to my left was hundreds of feet of empty space with a swift moving river below. And I couldn't go either direction anyway because there was a chainlink fence on either side of and above me. That was when I started peddling as hard as I could. I shot out of the bridge tunnel, peddled up a small hill and recognized a transient person sitting listening to a radio in the shelter of another bridge. I was out of breath but his presence startled me again and I peddled harder. When I reached Jon's apartment I was breathless and a bit sheepish. I now ride my bike mainly in the daylight, and NEVER across the Maple Street Bridge.)
(I tried riding my bike across the Maple Street Bridge at around 8:30 p.m. one evening this past fall. The pedestrian lane is basically a fenced "tunnel" that is suspended over the river next two four lanes of traffic. Halfway across I came across a small bicycle that someone had removed the seat from and left on the concrete walkway. "Why is that there?" I thought. Had someone been accosted and had their bicycle wrecked? THAT was when I looked around and realized I was trapped in a tunnel with no way out and if someone should try to stop me or harm me I was trapped. To my right was a street with traffic and to my left was hundreds of feet of empty space with a swift moving river below. And I couldn't go either direction anyway because there was a chainlink fence on either side of and above me. That was when I started peddling as hard as I could. I shot out of the bridge tunnel, peddled up a small hill and recognized a transient person sitting listening to a radio in the shelter of another bridge. I was out of breath but his presence startled me again and I peddled harder. When I reached Jon's apartment I was breathless and a bit sheepish. I now ride my bike mainly in the daylight, and NEVER across the Maple Street Bridge.)
2.13.2006
Monday again
There are days when you pray "Lord, just give me strength."
Today is one of them. This was one of the more amazing and draining weekends of my life. One amazingly beautiful wedding, combined with a horrid cold, my mother being in town and my boyfriend giving two really really great presentations on his trip to Colombia.
We thought the stress was over. Then Sunday evening he checked his e-mail and found this. Pray for Mauricio and Gilberto. If you're activism minded please e-mail me or leave a note in the comments section.
"Do all the good you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, for as long as ever you can."
I think that is roughly similar to something some great Christian thinker once said. I've forgotten who.
Today is one of them. This was one of the more amazing and draining weekends of my life. One amazingly beautiful wedding, combined with a horrid cold, my mother being in town and my boyfriend giving two really really great presentations on his trip to Colombia.
We thought the stress was over. Then Sunday evening he checked his e-mail and found this. Pray for Mauricio and Gilberto. If you're activism minded please e-mail me or leave a note in the comments section.
"Do all the good you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, for as long as ever you can."
I think that is roughly similar to something some great Christian thinker once said. I've forgotten who.
2.06.2006
Life as a Lackey
I want a "smite" button on my keyboard. No fair.
Those of you who are Far Side fans know that only God gets a "smite" button. Oh well.
Why does Dale want Stratos Gloves? Who is Dale anyway? Does he really exist or did someone make up all these test orders?
Why do I have to take up precious brain space with things like the function of the F4 key?
Will I get in trouble for blogging at work?
I should behave.
Those of you who are Far Side fans know that only God gets a "smite" button. Oh well.
Why does Dale want Stratos Gloves? Who is Dale anyway? Does he really exist or did someone make up all these test orders?
Why do I have to take up precious brain space with things like the function of the F4 key?
Will I get in trouble for blogging at work?
I should behave.
This is good.
I have an amazing boyfriend.
And good friends
and a job.
And I'm "employed" by a good ministry and live with good people.
This is good.
oh yeah. My family is pretty nice too. They support me.
And good friends
and a job.
And I'm "employed" by a good ministry and live with good people.
This is good.
oh yeah. My family is pretty nice too. They support me.
Just another Manic Monday
I'm sitting at my new "job" waiting to be trained. If they fire me, I may rejoice but in the meantime it's decent money and means I can get really cool outdoor clothing and gear at a reduced price. My day and my week are looking insanely busy, but I can deal with that. I did survive five years of college and campus ministry involvement. And somehow I worked at least an hour of piano practice into 5 out of 7 of my weekdays during my last two years of college. I can handle this too.
But what is their deal? I am being paid to sit here and wait for other people so they can "train" me. (I am not a dog.)
Nevermind the fact that I actually worked here for two weeks during the Christmas season. But I was working random seasonal work then.
But what is their deal? I am being paid to sit here and wait for other people so they can "train" me. (I am not a dog.)
Nevermind the fact that I actually worked here for two weeks during the Christmas season. But I was working random seasonal work then.
2.02.2006
community
I like living alone.
I miss the prairie.
stupid community building.
I hate talking to people.
wah wah wah poor me.
I miss the prairie.
stupid community building.
I hate talking to people.
wah wah wah poor me.
2.01.2006
hmmmm....
The frustrating thing about having goals and dreams (like an afterschool progam) is that you have to stay put awhile to accomplish them. If I go through with this I'll have to do all my wandering in my head for awhile.
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