Atleast it's Giraffe Print

I just spent more than I make in a day on a straightener. I also got my entire head of hair curled by a smooth-talking guy named Angelo from Israel at the mall.

It happened like this:
 I was doing a little Christmas shopping and a little personal splurging at the mall tonight. I wasn't on much of a mission. I'd found some great deals and was heading into one of my favorite stores when this young man stopped me and asked how I did my hair every morning. Apparently I was in a chatty mood, so I played along. I stopped, I talked, I sat in his chair.

He straightened my hair.
He curled my hair.
He talked about Italy.
He talked about my wedding.
He talked about fashion.
And he talked about traveling.
He asked me my favorite color from his wide selection of 100% ceramic stylers with lifetime waranties, floating plates, wet-to-straight capabilites and infrared heat garaunteed not to damage hair.

I said giraffe print. I mean clearly, how can you not pick the giraffe?
You have to pick the giraffe.

The next thing I knew he was ringing up my purchase for half price (did I say yes yet? I don't remember saying I was going to buy anything) and telling me about this fantastic revitalizing olive oil shampoo that he was going to give me free, just because it was my special day. The world's best straightener for half price and free $30 shampoo? On my special day? How could I say no?

Please, friends, be kind. Let's all pretend my hair looks so much better with such a high quality straightener next time we meet.

Movin' on up. And out.

The apartment search didn't last much more than a few weeks before I knew I'd found my new home. A large two-bedroom (for the price of 1BR) with walk-in closets, a balcony, a big kitchen and breakfast bar, fantastic management, tons of storage, and did I mention the walk in closet? I could fit a queen size bed in that closet! Well, I could have, before I filled it with shoes.

With the first of the month being a Monday, and that particular Monday being a dinner party with some of my fav friends from my Bible study in Winona, I didn't move in until Tuesday. By moving in on Tuesday I mean I picked up a bed and brought in a suitcase. And an espresso machine.

It's amazing what little you need to live on when you're traveling or without a permanent residence. I spent eight weeks this fall living out of a suitcase. It made me wonder why I owned so much stuff back home. It probably made my whole family wonder why I made them pack it into a truck and trailer and haul it down last Saturday. But when you know you own that many pairs of fabulous shoes, you start to miss them.

I've been told my shoe ownership/obsession is a little out of control, so let's move on. Tuesday night I went grocery shopping for the basics. I still haven't gone all out on baking goods, cause that's a whole other subject we could get carried away on. Jake, exploring my new apartment that evening, was a little skeptical of the contents in my fridge. "Are you sure the rabbits haven't worn off on you?" My psuedo-vegetarian habits must not be contagious yet.

The rest of the week I spent running to Walmart, organizing, running back to the store, re-organizing, more shopping. The whole family came down Saturday with furniture and the rest of my earthly possessions. We set up and unpacked and hung pictures and went searching for more furniture. I now own a dining room table. It's beautiful, and it makes me feel like I'm actually an adult. An adult who owns a table. It's funny, the little things that make or break a label. For me I guess it's a dining room table.

Well anyway. My to-do list isn't getting any shorter. I promise these pictures are merely a teaser of what's to come. (My apologies, too, the rest of the pictures won't load. Might have something to do with stealing internet from a mystery neighbor somewhere in my building.)

Books of paper

I'm reading a real paper book again - the last few have all been on my amazing Kindle (you need one) and I haven't gotten through two pages yet and I want to highlight and link a passage for you all to read. So reading and typing is second best. Anyway. Expect more from Brennan Manning soon:

“The greatest need for our time is for the church to become what it has seldom been: the body of Christ with its face to the world, loving others regardless of religion or culture, pouring itself out in a life of service, offering hope to a frightened world, and presenting itself as a real alternative to the existing arrangement.”

Not What I Expected

Welcome back, friends. The last six weeks have not at all been what I expected.

For example,
I was not expecting to be handed a fulltime job less than a month into this temporary position.
     I really was not expecting that job to be case work. (Use my Social Work license? What?)

I was not expecting to be looking for apartments in Rochester. I had no idea apartments were so expensive around here.
     I really was not expecting to get denied and approved the same day for the apartment I wanted. I also wasn't expecting to get a two-bedroom for the price of a one-bedroom.

I wasn't expecting my job to make me want to cry the first three days. (It's not so overwhelming anymore). I wasn't expecting my clients to know the system better than any of my colleagues.

I wasn't expecting to ever be able to eat with chopsticks, but I suppose I should have been. I wasn't expecting a crocodile foot on the counter with breakfast.

I wasn't expecting to be in Minnesota for another year. Last winter was supposed to be the last of negative temperatures and shoveling and shivering and hating on snow and ice. But nonetheless, I'm looking forward to everything else I can't expect or plan for.

Stay tuned for Misadventures of Living on My Own.

  

Connecting Dots

Apologies for the gap in my life over the summer. I got busy with three jobs and enjoying the great little town of Winona before I moved. I now reside in the suburbs where nothing goes on and there is little life to be found. I'm currently waiting for my job to start in Rochester and then once I know where I'll be a little more permanently, I'll find ways to get involved. Volunteer. Make friends. Find a church. Throw parties. Join a community. Have a life. Buy a dog. Maybe even land a job.

So since I have no job, I'm more or less new to town (it's been a long time since I really lived here) and everybody works full time, I'm a little antsy. I need to go exploring. I'll be done in Roch by early November, if not sooner, and looking to go somewhere.

Today's potential destinations:
Italy
Budapest*
Roadtrip to the end of I90 W*
France*
Italy
Spain*, but I've already been there
England, but if I waited til Spring I'd have travel companions
Italy
Vienna
San Francisco
Bangladesh*

*Indicates places where I have connections - if not places to stay then atleast tour guides or people to visit and explore with.
Where did your last journey take you? Any great ideas/deals for me? Please share!

Wildflowers and Rainbows

Have you ever seen a world in a grain of sand, or Heaven in a wildflower?

Today over lunch, my supervisor and the exec director at my agency read a devotion about noticing Heaven in the world around us. It was a good reminder about perspective and taking the time to notice. God's at work all around us, we just forget to open our eyes. Atleast I do. It's amazing, really, how often I get the answer I'm looking for or the reassurance I need when I stop and ask, but then five minutes late I'm back at the worry game.

I was talkin' to Jesus on the drive home tonight - asking questions that probably don't have answers, when I noticed a rainbow. Cliche, yes, but beautiful. A reminder of God's covenant with earth.

"Earth's crammed with Heaven, and every common bush afire with God. But only he who sees takes off his shoes. The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries." - Elizabeth Browning

Countdown

Two more weeks. I have twenty hours of commuting, ten days of my practicum (before I become a volunteer/part time employee but that's seperate, in my mind), two seminars, one journal, one four-hour licensure exam, and one ridiculous research paper before I'm officially retiring my backpack and becoming a real adult.

Aaaaaah.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

This is why I avoid campus. Sure, it's a beautiful campus and I usually run into some friendly faces. But sometimes, honestly, I'm embarrased to admit I am even a college student.

You, students across from me in the lower hyphen, I am talking about you. You and your video game scores, your "that's what she said" jokes, your loud obnoxious conversations about your bra sizes and how dumb your boyfriends are. Is that not your boyfriend sitting right next to you? Oh, it is? Huh. Interesting. Oh wait, you're not freshmen? You're seniors? I'm sorry. My bad. Couldn't tell.

I'm irritated. Not just because this particular group is loud and obnoxious and I have to sit at this census table for the next three hours, but because this group is just one example of self-centered, immature, stereotypical college students.

Bear with me while I take what may seem like a large leap and say abuse. Opression. Disrespect and broken people. Yes I just walked through the "Tunnel of Oppression" as a part of WSU's mulitcultural week, yes I just got out of spending half the morning talking about discrimination, abuse and therapy in seminar, I go to alot of conferences about violence, abuse, and exploitation and yes I am a bleeding heart liberal social worker! I'm proud of it. So maybe I'm a little over-sensitive, but it's becoming painfully aware that there isn't a huge gap between the horrors of "domestic abuse", the violence you're turning into a game on your Xbox, and the way a lot of people treat those they call friends. It's a slippery slope, at best.

My mind is a million different places today but I will try to channel this frustration into some sort of watered-down rant from the mind dump I typed up (and my computer deleted before I could post) yesterday afternoon.

I started reading For Women Only Thursday night. While it looks suspiciously like another Christian relationship book (Please God, no!), it started out fairly interesting. It's supposed to be the result of hundreds or thousands of surveys on the way men view life, relationships, and (most interesting!) perceive what women are saying. I had heard a lot of it before, but the other night it forced me to look at the way I talk to, and about, the guys in my life. Even the way I interact with my guy friends or the men at work. Obviously it was a lot about respect, and it challenged me to think about how much I respect, or show respect, to both men and women in my life. I complain about my friends when they do stupid things, I yell at the idiot (to myself) in traffic, I judge you for the uneducated things you say, I give my friends a hard time about any random situation because it's all in good fun. But this week I have become so incredibly frusterated with the way people treat other people - and I'm no longer talking about extreme cases of violence or abuse. I'm talking about me and my relationships. Even after I typed up this rant yesterday about how we all need to be more respectful and encouraging and sensitive, I went home and immediately found myself complaining to my best friend about how stupid and irritating people were.

It's like I don't even listen to myself talk when I go off about how you should be more understanding.

I've decided to take it as a challenge. I can't have a clean conscience standing up for human rights and fighting domestic abuse when my words (or thoughts) are nearly as hurtful. Matthew 5:21 puts it pretty clear as it says we commit murder in our hearts when we hate our brother. Ouch. By judging others, putting people down, even teasing our friends or being rude to someone who treats us badly first, we're creating an toxic environment. We're setting bad examples and we're not even standing up for the basic value of another human being.

I have a hard time showing respect when people are just plain stupid. But I'm gonna try.

Didn't see that coming

I have plans. I have a lot of plans, actually, and some of them are quite opposite of eachother. I'm fairly convinced I'm going to carry out most, if not all, of these plans even through the contradictions. I was feeling pretty content and excited about the future course for my life.

Then I'm pretty sure God laughed in my face.

Again.

This may or may not ammount to anything, and equally, it may not change anything. But here's Sarah's newest option: Cambodia.

Yes, it's way off in Southeast Asia. No, I've never even considered Cambodia before. I've never thought about Cambodia before. I don't speak Khmer (pronounced kuh-my) but apparently I'm learning it now. By learning it now we mean that I know three words and I can't keep them straight. Spoken Khmer, I've been told, is fairly simple to learn. You don't have to congegate verbs (which killed me in Spanish. And French.) and the grammer is pretty straight-forward. The written language, however, has four lines to every letter. In a way they kind of stack four letters on top of eachother for each letter, and then each main letter can have any variation to the three above or below it.

Yeah....... that's kind of what I said.

Anyway. Why Cambodia, you ask? Good question.
There is a man in Cambodia who has started an orphanage for children living on the street. I don't know much about the country yet, but it went through a terrible civil war when the Khmer Rouge took over in the 70's. It destroyed the country and killed so much of the population, forcing many families to labor camps, then Refugee camps, then various other countries around the globe. It's been awhile since the war, but the government is still corrupt. The orphanage gets no government assistance or any other kind of assistance, for that matter. The kids are taught a trade and sell the goods they make and with the money they are able to buy some basic food. It's nothing fancy but it's the best this man can do in caring for these kids who have no one.

Enter, two social workers who love to travel and take on a challenge. My supervisor happens to be related to this man who runs the orphanage. She and I have bonded quite a bit this semester and share a passion for missions, social justice, administration, and people. She wants to go back in December for the first time in 31 years. This is far from finalized, but we're dreaming big here. We started talking about the possibility of making this orphanage a non-profit organization. She would love the company and support while she travels.

What more do I need to hear?

A Lesson in Power

Draining.

That's the best way to describe my day. Good, full, interesting.... draining.

I was sitting in the backseat on a way to a meeting at the hospital with two colleagues of mine, both immigrants working in the professional world. Both educated, smart women. The conversation started with buying used cars and quickly turned into a conversation about racism. Both of these women who I have come to know and love this semester had numerous stories of blatant racism when buying cars, renting apartments, and reporting vandalism to the police. I was enfuriated. I was also silenced. What can you say when you, as a member of one of the most privileged classes in the world, are faced with stories like these? Sure, I was empathetic, I was on their side, but I couldn't do anything.

I've taken race relations and power & privilege classes; I've heard these types of stories. They've always made me mad, but now it's my friends we're talking about. And it's not okay. I may be in one of the groups of "power" as a middle class white American, but I felt powerless today listening to these women share their experiences. They've lived through war, communism, horror, refugee camps, and now as citizens in America they are still discriminated against.

"They think I'm stupid just because I'm an immigrant."

It breaks my heart. It drives me to action. I long for a time when social justice is not a noun, but a verb.

Images of our Lives

I took a few days off last week to go to Cornerstone's annual conference on domestic violence and sexual abuse. While there are many, many aspects of violence, abuse and sexuality I would love to share with you, my friend and fellow social worker Nikki summed one point up really well. I saw a film called "Killing us Softly" in a Women's and Gender study class a couple years ago, and it focused on how images of women and sex are used in advertising all kinds of items. Sex sells, but at what price? Check out Nikki's blog here: it will open your eyes to a whole new world of twisted advertising influencing our society.

How's that for a teaser?

Wandering

I apparently have taken up what seems to be permanent residence on Memory Lane. You know the one, somewhere
between Regret and Hope.

I would draw you a map if I knew the way out.

Housecleaning

My Growth group is currently going through a study by Rick Warren called Life's Healing Choices. It's all about discovering freedom from "your hurts, hang-ups & habits".  We're going through the Beatitudes and looking at things like admitting need, letting go and making changes. It's not a support group - my group is a wonderful collection of people who really care about eachother.

The last chapter we went through was Coming Clean, focusing on the pure of heart. Blessed are the pure of heart, for they will see God. - Matthew 5:8

The study suggests taking a moral inventory. Search me, Oh God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. - Psalm 139:23-24. It's basically as frightening as it sounds. They kind of provide a chart to fill in, mostly focusing on people and actions that have hurt you, how the damage has played out in your life, and what your responsibility or part was in the event. We talked about making specific plans and setting a date to make sure we did this for ourselves. We planned on finding a person who we trusted completely to share our hearts and moral failings with.

Then we went home. And I forgot.

I forgot until last Monday when my group got together for lots of wonderful food and fun. One woman mentioned the written moral inventory and how she wasn't sure if she was going to do it.

I debated. And I went home and got busy doing other things.

Finally last night I decided I should probably spend some time reading the chapter over again and making my list. I'm not sure if I was doing it for myself, my relationship with God, or just so I could tell my group I did my homework, but in this case all motives bring you down the same road.

So first I did all the things I do before I have to do something I don't want to do. I checked facebook about 4.5 times. I cooked dinner. I cleaned the house. I cleaned some more. I went through every piece of paper on my desk.

Do you see where this is going? I didn't get too deep into the dust rags before I noticed the analogy. Housecleaning. You can vacuum around the furniture (and large purses or potted plants, for that matter) or you can drag the arm chair out of the way to clean behind it. You can sit down at your desk to dust around the mounds of books you won't be able to read until you graduate or you can go through every birthday card you've saved for years, every receipt for the gas, the groceries, the sweater that was much too overpriced, and you can throw them away because you don't want so many possesions when you have to move in a couple months. Moving has been on my mind, and I am getting rid of a lot of things. Purging, I called it last night. My roommate thought I was referring to eating disorders and I almost got a lecture, but I'm trying to get rid of all the things I don't want, need, or use over the next five months. It's cleansing, really, (and it allows more space in your closet to go shopping). It's a little exhausting - this mental, spiritual, physical, emotional purge. It's a work in progress - my closet and my moral inventory still have a ways to go - but I'm looking forward to getting rid of the clutter. I want to realize what I need, what I've never even wanted, and what I have only because it's convenient or I never considered life without it.

I'm looking for a new way of looking at things.

I bet the view is great.

This is not a Food Blog

...but if you know me, you know I really love food. And I write about what I love.

This week has been an adventure in the land of culinary delight, starting with a potluck with my Bible study Monday. The last dish I shared with this group was my amazing Perfect Hershey's Chocolate cake - you know the one - I usually make it two days in a row because the first one dissappears overnight. It's my secret chocolate glaze recipe that tops it off. (It's really only a secret because I don't measure or make it the same every time, it's just really incredible. Then again, it is chocolate. What more do you need to know?) Anyway. I really didn't know how to top Hershey's Perfect Chocolate Cake, so I went on an entirely different route.

I started with all of this

And I chopped and diced and mixed and tasted and chopped some more.

Mixed in a little hot sauce, olive oil, salt, pepper, and lemon juice. It was delicious but could have used pinto beans, I decided. Oh for the love of salsa.

The next night of culinary adventures brought us to HuHot Mongolian grill, where you fill up a bowl of raw meats, vegetables, tofu, noodles and sauces and the grill chefs cook it infront of you. My sister and brother in law met me in Rochester after work and took me out to a wonderful dinner of catching up and laughing. It was so great to see them.

Tonight I decided to tackle the artichoke that's been residing in my drawer in the refrigerator for the past seven days. Have you ever seen (or tried to cook) a whole artichoke? It's a little daunting, but turned out to be much simpler than expected. My superviser claims drinking the water that the artichoke is boiled in gives you wonderful skin. She's always got great Eastern remedies and food tips to offer. I'll keep you posted on the artichoke-water facial. (So far all I've concluded is that it tastes like sweet corn. And it's bright green.)

The semester where I learned how to throw a party

My internship has been a wonderful experience this semester. I could go on and on about what I've learned about program management, policies, chairing committees, staying awake through board meetings, and being asked to speak at the SASW meeting later this month. Wait, what? Yeah, more on that some other day.

But today I learned how to throw a party. I even got out of seminar (read: 3 hours of how does that make you feel?) to help plan and host this party. It was my agency's annual staff celebration for a job well done. IMAA's incredible staff had gone above and beyond all goals in 2009 and we needed to celebrate. Instead of taking the whole team to Hawaii, the executive director left us in charge of a Hawaiian theme party luncheon.

My supervisor and myself. I don't do theme parties, but when your boss (and therefore you) are the one hosting, you kind of have to. It was fun though, and the food tasted even better than it looked.

And if I do say so, it looked amazing.

Not shown: spring rolls, egg rolls, fried rice, sticky rice, chicken wings, fresh coconut, punch, sauces, and some sugary fried desserts that were pretty amazing. I probably won't have to eat for the next three days.

What a great group. We had a lot of fun and ate alot of food. I think the staff was really encouraged, and we got to forget about the snow and ice outside as we cranked the heat up to 75 and enjoyed a sunny lunch room.

Tomorrow is Vietnamese New Year and I'm headed back to Rochester to staff a booth and see the Lion Dance (I'll let you know what that is after I know) and eat lots more wonderful food.

Then I have Sunday and Monday to catch a movie and relax a little before the craziness begins again. Oh yeah, and write a speech for that engagement later this month.

Cheaper than a piece of metal

The city of Winona hosts the Frozen River Film Festival every year. It's four or five days full of speakers and independent films, mostly centered around a common topic. I think this year's theme was food, but I am never in Winona, much less attending festivals, so I couldn't tell you for sure.

What I can tell you was that on Saturday at 1:00 they showed a film about human trafficking. I was there. I was there with a row of friends in tow. A doctor from Mayo Clinic came to speak about the trip he took to India that opened his eyes to the horrors of the buying and selling of human beings - no, of children. James Levine told us about the commercial district of Mumbai (formerly Bombay) where streets upon streets are lined with booths selling metal, food, fabric, and women. Apparently one girl in particular caught this doctor's attention. She was wearing a sari with rainbow trim and writing in a blue notebook. Maybe this caught his attention because, as a doctor, James Levine had always believed that education was always the answer. Education is always seen as the step up to the ladder of success. And here was this little girl, being sold behind a booth on a dirty street, reading and writing, and still trapped in sexual slavery. She was thirteen.

Thirteen.

Dr Levine continued that it was often cheaper to buy a young girl for the night than to purchase a piece of metal on the next block. He went home from that trip but could never get this little girl out of his mind. He went on to write a book, called The Blue Notebook. It's a novel he wrote, inspired by the little girl in the rainbow-trimmed sari. This book is now available in 22 languages and being sold all over the world. He's never seen the little girl with the blue notebook again, but he can only hope that his words are speaking up for her and the 27 million others still in slavery today. Her message can be carried across the world without even knowing what it was she was saying.

I haven't read the book yet but it's on my list. Dr Levine was a fantastic speaker with a passion behind his message. I hope you'll check it out on your next rainy reading Saturday.

_________________________________________________
Quick facts:
Traffickers made $31 billion in 2008 just by selling other people.
An estimated 8000-12,000 people are prostituted in Minnesota alone. - mcbw.org
731 women have been reported as sex trafficking victims in the last three years.
Minneapolis is in the top 13 cities for sexual exploitation.

Be informed.
Then become engaged.

Weekend Winners

This was supposed to happen a few days ago, but life got in the way. So here we are and we finally have a Census2010 Giveaway winner! Random.org helped me out and Ashley from http://thebeautifuldetails.blogspot.com/ will be recieving a fantastic aluminum watter bottle sporting the Census logo within 3-5 business days.
Meaning the post office is on my list of places to go this weekend. I have a Christmas present or two to send towards the West coast. My deadline is May, so in my mind, we are way ahead of schedule.
In other news, I am now the co-chair of the Complete Count Committee (the group supplying all the wonderful census promo items and getting the word out to Olmsted County) and I have no idea what that means for any new responsibilities, but I will keep you posted. And since they loaded me up with even more goodies, I picked a second winner and Katherine will also be getting a prize very soon!

My windshield wipers are now working (I called a man. He just popped them right on. I'm done trying to do car things by myself. Til next time.)
And for the first time in eleven days, I am not working either job tomorrow. Granted, I have multiple assignments to turn in, but I'm pumped for a day off. I have friends coming down from the cities and I plan on relaxing and catching a film at the Frozen River Film Festival. Rumor has it there is a feature on Human Trafficking on Saturday, so expect some new info or ways to get invovled fighting slavery next week.

*None listed

I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to blog this week. I've wanted to write, to tell you what's going on with my life, but the truth is, I didn't have many good things to say. Great things are going on but I'm exhausted. Long days at the internship with two hours of commuting, three hours of seminar and another job on the side for weekends is beginning to be too much. I'm pretty sure, after an emotional Friday afternoon, that I'm going to cut back on hours at the only job that provides a paycheck. I need to keep my sanity; I can live off ramen for one semester.

But this blog isn't for me to complain about being busy. That's why I didn't write all week. What's been on my mind (still!) is the job market. I sent my application in to a job listing located in Portland last week. Portland is my ideal destination. The West Coast is pretty much the only direction I would even consider, and I can't afford San Francisco and I require a little more sunshine than Seattle would send my way. Portland is beautiful, close to the ocean, close enough to Seattle, oh-so-green, with mountains. And lots of social activism.

Something you may not know about activism is that it is not listed as a job category on any job listing search engine I have found. Neither is social justice. Social work can be close but that's generally casework or something I'm equally uninterested in. Community health is a little closer but not quite right. My best bet has been looking at specific organizations I love like http://www.laborrights.org/, http://www.notforsalecampaign.org/, http://www.nurfc.org/, and http://www.change.org/. But for some reason the positions that excite me the most are consistently all the unpaid internships.

Therefore I am now obviously trying to work out a plan as to how one can live off of unpaid internships without the [9to5] + 2 +(school+another job) - social life = unhappy Sarah. I would love to hear your ideas.

Giveaway!

My sister Cindy suggested a giveaway for some sweet Census 2010 promo items after last week's blog about the meeting. I'm usually one of those people who does the exact opposite of what people suggest, but it sounded like a good idea. Who doesn't like free stuff? So may I introduce:

Census Giveaway 2010

Since attending the committee promotions meeting and realizing the importance of the US Census this spring, I have decided to not only pass along the info to you, but to share some goods! The giveaway is for an aluminum water bottle with the Census logo, and I'll throw in some smaller promo items too.

Here are my simple rules:

1. Read my original Census post or check out the official Census website

2. Tweet about the Census! Be sure to include @sarahooms for your entry. Or if you're not the tweeting type, comment here and let me know you told two people about the Census and why you think it's important.

I'll give it a week or so and then use random.org to choose my winner. Then I'll collect your address and send you the goods! Now go spread the word!

I'm no mechanic

I hate auto stores. I don't like the way they smell, I don't believe they sell anything of interest, and I know mechanics/salesmen can immediately peg me as the girl who knows nothing about cars. I will now withhold my diatribe about sexists because, in this case, I am the stereotypical female. I believe this is why, when bringing my car in for repairs, I hear ridiculous price quotes like $300 to fix a car window. Not that I'm bitter, but you can read about that here.

I bring this up because my windshield wiper was broken when I turned my car on last Sunday. Not a big deal, I know it's inexpensive and easy to fix, but the rubber blade tapped my windshield the entire ride from the cities to Winona. Annoying. I ignored it for the week because the weather was fine and I didn't care that much but decided to tackle the project myself this weekend.

My first step was finding a (male) friend willing to help if the going got rough. Check.
Second step: figure out what type of blades you need. Said male friend suggested the car manual.

You guys. Car manuals are ridiculous. Have you ever read yours? There is just a wealth of knowledge to be found. Including, but not limited to (and i quote:)
"Avoid running out of fuel"
"Horn: press the steering wheel pad. The horn can be operated when the ignition is off."
And I thought I knew nothing about cars. There's also great stuff about not locking children in the trunk on hot days.

Although the manual offered great advice about all sorts of car-related issues, there was nothing as to what specific wiper blades one should buy for their little black ford focus. It took me two days to make myself go to Fleet Farm. Fleet Farm is kinda up there with auto stores and Menards, and I don't like it. It took me about 12 minutes to stare at all the wipers which looked exactly the same (is that like men saying all black shoes look the same? I will never know.) and not finding my exact car in the handy dandy manual attached to the counter. So I found the closest thing, some other kind of Ford Focus, and then I found what seemed to be matching blades. I left as fast as I could. Being distracted and uninterested in my purchase, I didn't pay much attention when the wiper blades rang up at about half the price they should be. Not one to argue a good deal, I paid the quoted price and left the store before realizing the ammount my reciept said I paid was nearly twice what I actually forked over. I'm slightly confused why the cashier told me $5.76 when clearly the blades cost $10.99 and I do feel a little bad for not going back in to actually pay the correct price. But not bad enough to go back into an auto-like store. For wiper blades of all things.

Anyway, we're on to step four now. I got home and looked at my windshield. I even lifted up the blades. I don't get it. I fidgeted with the stupid thing for about 42 seconds, threw the new blades back in the car and went inside. I know I've put one back on once, but I don't remember how or when or why.

A few hours later, after two male friends offered to help me later tonight, I am determined to do this thing on my own. It's simple. I go back out to my car. Lift blades. I even manage to get one blade off. There are now three pieces to deal with and the one that's supposed to attach my car's blade to the new one makes no sense to me. It doesn't fit with the others. I don't get it. I was out there for about ten minutes, looking like an idiot in my driveway staring at my windshield and trying to fit little pieces together.

I have finally decided that I either broke something or I bought the wrong blades. It's ridiculous. I'm begrudgingly going to get said male friends to look at the stupid thing tonight, and then probably end up back at Fleet Farm paying some odd price for more windshield wiper blades. My car currently has one broken blade infront of the passenger seat, and no blade at all infront of the drivers'.

This is why I stick to buying shoes.

"It's In Our Hands"

People watching is one of my favorite activites. Some of my favorite places to people watch include, but are not limited to, airports, coffee shops, city parks and public transit. I know I share the joy of inconspicuously creeping on others with quite a few individuals. We're curious beings and we enjoy seeing what others are up to, how they react to those around them, and hearing the crazy things they say.

But have you ever considered people counting? I have never cared about people counting, though I believe people count.

The 2010 Census is this year. Half my readers just got bored and left the blog. But hear me out. I wound up at the 2010 Census committee meeting this week and learned quite a few interesting facts. More importantly, I learned why we take a census and why it's important. I also wound up with a rather large bag packed with promo items (like luggage tags, water bottles, a free tshirt, pens, notepads, flashlights, etc) and flyers. I left with  feeling of responsibility to spread the word about the census.

Some quick facts every should know:
Census day is April 1, and you should recieve a form in the mail mid-March.
Ten questions, takes ten minutes, every ten years.
Census information can't even be accessed by the FBI - everything is confidential to the nth degree.
Information from the census affects not only things like community funding, parks, school districts, numbers of emergency workers, public transportation, and better roads - it also impacts the political future of our country. Unless Minnesota counts 4000 additional persons since the last census, we will lose a seat in the House of Representatives. We probably shouldn't let that happen.

Immigrants and students are big target populations because they may not know the importance of filling out the survey, often live in transitional housing, or do not trust governmental workers or systems. Assure those from other countries that immigration status will not be counted, registered, or available to any questioning parties. We just need to know how many people reside in our state.

I think the census is important, and I hope you do, too. It's our future and we should have a say. To find out more, check out http://www.2010census.gov/, or stop by my place to get a neon luggage tag or a sweet water bottle or something.

My 9 to 5 plus 2

It's my last semester of college, and I have a practicum. As best as I can figure it, practicum is a fancy way to say I'm an intern. We're hoping intern isn't a nice way of saying office help, though I have filed a few papers so far. The best practicum placement I could find (and get approved) was in Rochester, a good 55 miles away from my home. After a big inner debate about moving I decided to stay put because A) I love my roommates, B) Moving sounded like a lot of work for only 3 1/2 months and C) I don't know many people in Rochester and knew I wouldn't have much time to be making new friends. And so I commute. I'm playing around with times and routes but Hwy 14 is a sketchy road in the dark and I do not like it. It has potential to be a nice drive when there is no ice and some light with which to see, but for now I'll still to good ol' I90.

I love I90. Probably because I know driving to the end of the road (and my family does have a knack for driving to the end of every road!) will take me to Seattle. Driving to Seattle is on my list of things I must do one of these days.

I digress.... practicum. I work for an international resource center that matches immigrants and refugees to resources like county assistance, interpreting services, job skill classes, and internships in the community. The staff is great. The other intern and I get along well, which is nice since we spend most of the day sharing an office. I do have an office. And business casual has taken over my wardrobe in a way only "mom-sweaters" (according to my oh-so-dear roommate) could. I've been doing well and getting accustomed to everything, but hating the two hours in the car after day two. I love to drive, but being gone from 7:30am to 6pm when you're used to my slacker schedule is rough. The gas bill is steep, and I'm still paranoid about hitting deer.

But tonight I had a wonderful, relaxing drive home. I vaguely recall making up something for a Burnout Prevention Paper last semester about using the time en route to think, pray, listen to music, and clear my mind. Not only did my professor love it, but turns out it's pretty legit. Maybe it's all in perspective, maybe it's in taking a deep breath. Maybe it's about shutting up and turning off the radio and listening to the little voice that wants to speak to your heart. I'm at peace where I'm at right now and I'm looking forward to whatever's coming next.


(Portland? What? More to come.)

Extreme Makeover

Welcome to extreme makeover blog edition.

Hope the redesign didn't throw you for a loop - I'm trying to keep up with the Jones's - in this case, my sister and her hubby's fab blog, and this just kind of happened.
I just returned from a "balmy" 50 degree week in Florida, so let's consider this the spray-on tans of makeovers: it's cheesy, it's fake, it won't last long.

With no promises of better writing, I do sincerely hope we'll have a beautiful blog to show off soon.

Auld Lang Syne

We rang in the new year with style in St Paul this year. 2009 went fast and full without any major milestones. I have plans to make 2010 a fantastic year but I'm not sure if any dreams will become reality in the next twelve months. Full time employment? Travelling to Africa and Europe? Moving to Portland, buying a house? Maybe those should move from the 2010 file to the sometime-between-now-and-2015 file. We'll see.

Atleast college graduation is (almost) garaunteed. I'm four months, 4800 miles of commuting, and one killer research paper away from a degree in a field I don't want to work in. But here's to being licensed and eligible for a real job, with opportunities in every direction (though we're only interested in those West of here). Happy year of new adventures, new beginnings, new faces and most likely new places. Here's to new dreams and new accomplishments. Bring it on, 2010.