Parks and Recreation...

is a stupid t.v. show that is sandwiched between two of the best shows currently on t.v. ("Community" and "The Office").

However, I love parks and I love recreation.  And I really love that Andy is now old enough that we can do some roaming about different parks in the area.  Usually, we stick with more low-key park opportunities.  One park that is very near to my house has a paved track and lots of open space for running, throwing a ball, etc.  It also boasts a gym that is made for the smallest of tykes.  In general, it's a great place for taking Andy, particularly when I don't feel like driving more than 8 minutes to get somewhere.  However, there are other places, all of which require I double my driving time (at least), that are more my idea of a park.  They have trails...and lakes...and trees galore.  They are less developed and more remote than the most immediately located parks.  And I love them.  My favorite two (so far, though I've only been to each a handful of times) are North Park (which actually has a combo of open space and trails) and Raccoon Creek State Park (which is safest in terms of traffic).  Today, Andy and I took an "adventure" to the latter, and it was marvelous.

I did a little bit of research to learn which trails would be most suitable for our trek (i.e. I found the ones marked 'easy'), and then promptly forgot all of it by the time we finally pulled onto park grounds.  So, I decided to regroup and just pull into the first spot that said it was for trail-related parking.  It turns out that the trail I selected began with a hill.  And it wasn't a low grade hill.  It was a hilly hill.  Andy was not to be dissuaded, however, once he was out of his car seat.  He had a blast on his way up.  He picked up at least 7 different sticks and elected to bang them together, or on surrounding trees.  He would walk up a few yards, then start bounding back down the hill, crying "wheeeee" the whole way.  In the end, we didn't actually complete much of the trail, but the area that we did manage to cover, we probably covered at least 3 times.

And then...I showed Andy the creek that was lurking just out of sight (but within earshot) of our path.  And he immediately ran into the water which, while very shallow, still soaked his feet.  And, then, he obviously thought the most appropriate next step to take was to sit in the water.  And to throw rocks.  And to splash and splash.  And to pick up hand fulls of mud and rub them in his hair.  By this point, I was grateful for my foresight, in that I had managed to pack an entire spare outfit, but was also crossing off of my list the other errands I'd hoped to have completed once our little adventure was completed.  This called for a bath, and pronto.

We loaded up the car and began to head out, when I saw the sign for the wildflower preserve, and I thought it might be nice to look at all of the flowers.  I pulled in, and felt even greater delight when I saw what appeared to be a paved pathway.  We parked, I got the stroller out (I didn't want Andy to run in the flowers or otherwise utilize his powers for destruction), and we set off...only to discover that the paved path went to a building, and that all of the other trails were natural.  Nevertheless, we had gone this far, so I elected to push the stroller on a trail for a bit, somehow deciding that it wouldn't be too bad.  And then there were tree roots. Lots and lots of tree roots.  I went through a period of trying to maneuver around the roots, but that didn't work so well.  And then I went through a phase of trying to simply lift the front wheels of the stroller over the top of each root.  That only kind of worked.  Then, I finally was so fed up that I just picked up the entire stroller and carried it around until we were in a more root-free area.  (Meanwhile, Andy thoroughly enjoyed his riding, yelling "bumps!" and giggling ferociously the entire time).  Fifteen or twenty minutes in, I had to concede to nature--it had beaten my stroller and, therefore, me.  We bumbled our way back to the car, got loaded up, and headed home.

It was a lovely day.  If I'd really done a great job of planning, I'd have invited a few friends along, and we could've enjoyed some time at the lake, and a nice picnic.  And, I'd have brought something--anything--other than that stupid stroller.  Oh well--maybe next time!!

Isn't it interesting how so many of our preferences are based on our experience of what we know?  If I had been born in California rather than in Kentucky, or to vegetarian parents, or into a long line of boaters, my life would be entirely different.  In terms of DNA, I'd be the same, but what of my interests or tastes would remain?

I'm thinking about this as I continue to navigate the waters of my marriage, and continue identify ways in which Joe and I are the same, and ways in which we are different.  I tend to thrive in situations that are in flux.  I like new places (I'll go anywhere at least once if I have the chance) and new people and new circumstances and new experiences.  Joe, on the other hand, thrives on stability.  He likes to be here, and not there.  He likes to know where things are, and feels comforted by knowing that everything has its place.  He is grounded and I...well, I am not.  I do need routine, though.  I need the structure that comes with making lists of tasks to complete each day, and that comes with making lists for everything else, too.  And, sometimes, Joe musters enough spontaneity to make plans in 5 seconds flat.  But the plans he makes always end up with him coming home, doing the things he does, and moving on.  My structure, on the other hand, could be integrated into any experience.  If I were traveling around the world, then I'd have lists of things to pack, "must-see" opportunities in each country, important contact information, hotel confirmations (though, were I traveling the entire globe, I'm quite sure that I'd spend the bulk of my time in hostels).  During my time in Luxembourg (which would surely have a spot on my list of places to go during this hypothetical [for now] journey), I would include things like, "Eat pain au chocolat, take train to Differdange to see the Chateau, have some spaghetti eis, go to the bottom of the grund".  In St. John, U.S.V.I., I'd be more likely to have a list that read, "Bathing suit, sunblock, sunglasses, towels, snorkel gear, magazines and 'fluff' novels, water." Oh, the bliss.

So, what's the best compromise here?  Is it for me to bop around the globe while Joe stays home?  That seems unfair (plus, it proved to be incredibly difficult when I tried that plan when I headed to S. Africa and Malawi...granted, that was only 10 days after we were married AND there were lots of life circumstances that made that particular trip exceedingly difficult, AND we had virtually no contact with each other...).  Is it for us to take more trips, but to have them be more domestic?  Is it to take trips sometimes, but, when we do, to make them really dramatic affairs?  (By the way, this assumes completely that money is no object when, of course, money is an important consideration).  Perhaps, I can convince Joe that we should buy a grand yacht, and he could enjoy the stability of staying on the boat, while I could hop from island to island and country to country.  Call me in 50 years and see how that plan has worked for us.

In the end, just like everyone says, we will just have to find a balance that works for us.  I need to be better about helping Joe maintain his sanity by keeping an orderly home (I'm not the tidy one in our family, but the bills are always paid on time and dinner's [almost] always on the table), and, until we have the expendable income that allows for lots of whirlwind vacationing opportunities, I am happy that Joe at least listens to my crazy dreams and lets me linger in the travel section of the bookstore a little bit longer than any normal non-trip-planner might.

(Note: I realize that there's a glaring problem with this entry, in that I didn't even bother to entertain thoughts of how having children plays into this conversation.  That's mostly because my brain would explode in considering all of the ramifications, and I just didn't feel like doing that to myself today.) :0)

The World Cup

Here's my confession: I don't care about the world cup.  Like, even a little bit.  But I really wish that I did.

I don't ever follow soccer, so it seems silly to follow it now just to jump on the bandwagon.  I can't speak intelligently about any team--though I'm familiar with Ronaldinho, Ronaldo, Beckham and...well...Pele.  And I've heard of the Premier League, and I'm pretty sure that Manchester United, Manchester City, Liverpool, Arsenal and Chelsea are all a part of it.  And maybe something with "Black..." in it?  Yeah, I'm pretty much illiterate in the soccer world.

I kind of wish I could get into soccer, though, because the whole entire world seems to be absolutely smitten with it.  But, alas, my heart is won over by football...er, American football.  And, as for soccer, well, I am pretty much only interested in watching when there's a fight.  Or when everyone's wearing binoculars, as can be seen here (prepare to laugh your head off).

Football, though, is fantastic.  I didn't always feel that way--I used to be quite a cantankerous little child when we'd have to watch football all day Saturday and then again on Sunday afternoon--but, even then, my school journals talked about how I didn't like John Elway because he beat the Browns in the playoffs (my heart still breaks a little each time I think about it).  And, of course, there are the WVU Mountaineers.  Every ounce of my being has been trained to root for "them 'eers", no matter what.  I just feel like there's much more going on in football.  Tackling and fumbling and such.  Don't misunderstand me: I don't for one second think that football players are better athletes than soccer players.  They just play a much more interesting game (to me, anyway).

With all of that being said, I'm pretty sure that, were I in South Africa at this very moment, I could scrounge up enough interest in soccer (which I imagine is eons better in person) to be enthused by the event at hand.  But it will definitely not hold a candle to last December's Browns v. Steelers game, when the Browns finally pulled a victory--and a convincing one, at that--out over their archenemies.  That was exciting.  Even riding the Rapid (Cleveland's public transportation system) with a bunch of rowdy-verging-on-obnoxious folks back to our parking spot was pretty fun.

I do have to watch, though, because I never want to let myself become too emotionally invested in things like the Browns, particularly because there are far more important things in life.  Plus, the Browns haven't been good for several years, and I don't exactly live in a Browns-friendly environment.  Plus, when I have let the emotions get the best of me, it's never pretty.

Take this story:
It was mid-November, 2006.  I was in grad school, and was trying to edit one of my final papers, to be submitted the following day.  However, I was doing this in the corner of a room in which I was the sole Browns fan, surrounded by 20+ Steelers fans.  The Browns and Steelers were playing, and the Browns had dominated most of the game (this was the season where they went 10-6, but were ultimately shut out of the playoffs because Derek Anderson played so poorly against both the 49ers and the Bengals, so Tennessee got the 6th seed ahead of them).  I was trying very hard to contain my excitement, both because it wasn't all that fun to be excited while receiving a room full of angry stares, and because this is the Browns.  Things change in a heartbeat.  But there we were, with under two minutes left in the game, and the Brownies were ahead by 5. However, Pittsburgh had the ball, and Cleveland's run defense had been abysmal, to say the very least.  Ben Roethlisberger handed the ball off to Willie Parker, who easily found a seam, and he galloped his way into the end zone, crushing the hopes of every Browns fan on the planet.  I responded by immediately grabbing everything I owned, immediately beginning to sob uncontrollably, and immediately heading out the door and to my car for a long 15 minute drive home.  Joe and I were engaged at the time, and he came running after me  to make sure that I was okay, to which I responded (between sobs, mind you) that "I just need to go."  Yeah, talk about dramatic.  And, to be perfectly honest, I ended up having to sit in my car for a few minutes before I could actually see well enough to drive AND I punched my radio when the Browns loss became official.

So, yeah, I need to watch those emotions.  And, I need to very very carefully guard my competitive nature.  I hate to lose.  I'm terrible at it, frankly.  So often, I make even the most mundane tasks into competitions.  Sometimes, this is a positive thing, in that it motivates me to do my very best (and I tend to not do so well in the self-discipline area all the time), but, at other times, it just makes me kind of a nasty person.  It's not my most treasured trait, that's for sure.

I think I have a solution, though.  Maybe, from now on, when my emotions start to get the best of me, I'll just turn on some soccer...

Don't Drink the Barium.

I had the "opportunity" to learn about the art of the CT Scan yesterday.  The actual procedure, itself, was easy, and quite relaxing (although the warming sensation produced by the injection of dye through an iv was a bit disconcerting).  However, approximately two hours prior to the actual scan, I was charged with the task of drinking two 30 oz. containers of Barium Sulfide Contrasting Solution.  In the words of Judy Gellar, regarding Rachel Green's attempt at an English trifle (in one of the best episodes of "Friends"), "It did not taste good."  


When I initially stared down the two bottles of liquid, I took calm in imagining that they certainly wouldn't be worse than the orange-y flavored stuff I had to drink when pregnant to check my glucose level.  HA!  The kind manufacturers of this barium nightmare tried very hard to give it an orange flavor, but wound up simply giving me nausea.  I would've rather had the straight stuff, sans flavoring, I think...at least, then, I could've pretended it was just water (kind of).


Nevertheless, the CT Scan revealed mostly good things--I didn't need to have the appendectomy that my PCP had feared I might, which allowed me to go home, rather than to the hospital, following the scan.  Hooray!


Now, maybe it's because I am a barista, and because I take full advantage of having all Starbucks beverage ingredients before me when I concoct new drinks for myself.  Or maybe it's because I just drank 60oz. of barium nonsense (which still doesn't hold a candle to the 4 liters of nonsense that folks have to drink pre-colonoscopy, by the way).  Regardless, I am now thinking about that whole water-into-wine business that appears (only!) in John's gospel.


I mean, come on...how cool is that?  What if I could've just turned my barium into, say, chocolate milk?!  (By the way, I'm pretty sure that a well-executed chocolate milk is the best beverage on the planet, except on a hot day...) I just think it's amazing that the entire elemental core of something could just change like that, and yet, frequently, people hardly bat an eye at it.  Now, granted, the ol' switcheroo might pale in comparison to, say, resurrection, but  come on: if you didn't have the benefit of reading on to the next miracle, and the one after that, you would probably be pretty impressed by this, the first miracle that Jesus performed (according to John, anyhow).  


I'm thinking that, perhaps, I need to start living with that concept in mind.  I'm so not good at living in the moment. I  always scoffed (at least, in action) at the quote "today is a gift, and that's why it's called the present."  And for me, a pun-lover, bar none, that's saying something!  But, the reality is that I'm a dreamer.  I'm constantly thinking about tomorrow--and ten years from now.  I married someone with his feet planted very firmly on the ground, which is great and helpful and all, but I still can't totally shake my internal time machine of sorts (or whatever).  But, if I just took a few moments to appreciate the beauty, the mystery, the gift of today, then I'd very likely be privy to the miraculous, day-in and day-out.


How I got here from there, I'll never really know.  Welcome to my crazy brain...

There's recently been a wave of friend requests on Facebook that have involved me.  A few have been from old friends, but many (most?) have been from new co-workers.  I think it's fair to say that everyone in our little shoe box of a store works well together.  I'm sure that some people are closer than others, but in general, I feel a sense of camaraderie and fun.  I'd even go so far as to say that I am friends with some of them (I don't work with some of them ever because of my bizarro scheduling).  So, here's what's striking: when I look at the Facebook profiles of these folks, I can't help but notice that we are all so different from one another.  There are a couple of people who I can relate to pretty closely, actually, and that has a lot to do with our beliefs and our personalities, but there are others who, in many ways, I could point to as my polar opposites.  And yet, we all have a blast together.  We are united over coffee.  

I have been in these circumstances on a number of occasions.  Every time I've worked at Starbucks, for example.  And in my Tappan Hall my freshman year at Miami.  And, most definitely, when I worked at Cracker Barrel.  And so many other times.  I just love that people who are so different from one another can manage to get along so well when they share a goal.

If this can work on a small scale over and over and over again, I wonder why it's so difficult for it to work on a larger scale?  I would point to the months just following 9/11 as a time when Americans were undoubtedly willing to be unified in their loyalty to the U.S.  But, post-Katrina, there was very little of that.  If we had been so keen on working together, as we should've been, then there wouldn't still be neighborhood after neighborhood of Katrina destruction still waiting to be rescued.  And, again, with Haiti, we heard countless tales of relief efforts for about a month after the earthquake.  I'm certain that Port-Au-Prince is still in a grave state, especially now that they must face down another hurricane season, but I never hear about the needs of Haitians in the news anymore.

I just wish that people could figure out how to look past things that, in many cases, are petty, in order to be unified in the things that really matter.  I don't care that one co-worker is 19, that another one hates Target, and that a third has identified about 28 "favorite bands", of which I'm familiar with about 3...when it comes down to it, we can push that stuff aside and just work.  Working well together isn't cultivated out of total like-mindedness, it's generated by the urgency that a particular thing requires.

Again, as I think about my church, and the church universal, I wonder why the general assertion is that we are all split up into denominations because we can't agree on things, when, really, we ought to be able to put a whole lot of that stuff aside if we are ever going to be able to unify on the central belief that Jesus is who He says He is, and thank God for that!  For a group of people that calls itself "the body", we sure aren't in very good shape.