Oh SNAP...history.

Bureaucratic red tape can be frustrating. I've spent the last hour clicking around on different sites trying to figure out how to get my SNAP benefits renewed. So far I've come up with nothing. And an important thing to point out here is that you can't just call the welfare office because a) they won't pick up and b)their voicemail is always full. Go figure.

As an AmeriCorps member I'm eligible for SNAP benefits because without them I probably would be giving up food for the year. The stipend covers rent, bills and occasionally getting to work/my service site. The month or two before I got through the red tape the first time (sigh) I was living off of free potatoes and peanut butter. Not exactly a healthy lifestyle. And just so you know there IS a stigma still attached to receiving Food Stamps...the cashiers aren't the problem (in fact more times than not my EBT card strikes a commonality with them and we chat about it!)it's the people in line who automatically start to judge my purchases when I state that I'm using my Access card (EBT, ACCESS Card, Food Stamps...all the same thing basically...just government lingo...). That may be the reason I find myself sneaking to the grocery store in the late hours of the evening.

But I'm also very grateful for the assistance.

I've been in reflective mode lately. A few weeks ago I sat down with my friend Ryan and we talked about life. Where we were, where we were going, where we've been. Ya see I've been focusing on so much on the now and beyond that I've forgotten about my past. Remembering history, knowing our history is so important. My housemates and I were sitting around a campfire this past weekend reflecting on the concept of history. How it's impossible to advance without knowing where we came from and how that influenced who we are. History is both personal and shared, both private and public. The Civil War, Prohibition, and the Great Depression all affected my life as well at the birth of my siblings, the growth of my hometown and the colleges I attended. I wouldn't be where I am without those things happening first.

So back to me (this is my blog after all...ha ha): It wasn't until my discussion with Ryan that I came to realize how much I've changed the past two years. I've been so focused on surviving, on finding a path, on being happy that I've missed how much life has impacted me! I've gained confidence, I can argue with the meanest of mechanics, I can sorta fix leaky pipes, I can teach, I can worm my way into an organization, I can make a mean cup of joe, I've become bolder...and so on...

I guess the point of this is that I'm glad that I have history.

Looking for lost poetry...

I fell into reading an article this afternoon about noticing beauty and art around us. It was quite long but I was completely enthralled in it while sipping my afternoon cup of joe. It made me start to wonder what kind of experiences I could be having if I wasn't so stuck in my normal routine. (Read it here: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html)

Take this morning for example. Usually on a Sunday morning I get up barely in time to get ready. I throw back a cup of coffee and try to put on clothes that match...on a good day I remember to brush my hair. Then I grab my overfilled purse and Bible with too many papers in it and rush out the door to get to church late. This morning my routine was disturbed by a phone call inviting me to breakfast before church. "What kind of nonsense is this?", I thought to myself. And then I realized that I would really love to have conversation and breakfast before church. We had time and I love these friends. Why not? It was because of my routine...my stupid routine that is frankly, boring. Thankfully I got myself together and had a great time (and ate a great Western PA breakfast!). It was a lovely, lovely way to start off this Sunday. And I also found a new place to eat that is right down the street from me (how had I never noticed it before???).

Also, I sat in a different pew then normal. That was great. I got to see an older gentleman that I've never noticed before pouring out his heart to God. It made me pause and really appreciate everything about this life.

Back to the article I mentioned earlier. This line particularly stuck me: "The poet Billy Collins once laughingly observed that all babies are born with a knowledge of poetry, because the lub-dub of the mother's heart is in iambic meter. Then, Collins said, life slowly starts to choke the poetry out of us. It may be true with music, too."

I'm taking this to heart. I'm going to go out this week and try to find the poetry that I've lost. I'm going to break routine. I'm going to do something crazy. I'm going to talk to someone new. I'm going to enjoy life a little more.

And I'm going to keep listening to this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pp-Gl-70dSo




(Sorry I had to put the whole links in...they wouldn't show up any other way!)

Listening to bus life...

This is the story of a girl who rides a bus. I find myself on at least 4 daily. It's an interesting experience-buses have their own culture. Most sit in silence absorbed in books or music or their thoughts I suppose but a few brave people talk and you know that everyone else is more or less listening. I usually stick ear buds in and fade into music oblivion but the last two days I've forgotten my MP3 player and have had to listen. Most it is gossip about people that I don't know. Some of it is small children yelling. I hear fights and phone calls, secrets, family stories, and tips on washing dishes. Occasionally I find myself in conversations with strangers. We talk about work or school, and we always about what buses we ride and when we ride them. We talk about the drunk on 61C or the lack of runs on the P7.


I'm losing track of all thoughts but bus life and who wants to hear about that?




Not even the people that ride do.

Thank goodness for road rage, junk food, and Jesus

I'm starting to develop road rage. I never understood why people felt the need to flip a rude gesture or scream in frustration while driving but the fog has begun to lift. I drive nearly an hour and 1/2 everyday to work (one way). It's suppose to be only a 50ish minute drive but with the traffic through the tunnels it takes an extra 40 minutes of what I call "mind-numbing-radio-blaring-people-cutting-me-off-and-cutting-in-line-huge-buses-being-pushy-rainy-break-light-hell".

I started off this commute with a pretty pleasant attitude. "Its only until July", "Some days traffic is lighter", "If I want to live in Quip and have an awesome service position I have to do this"...these are the thoughts from the early days of the commute. I let people in front of me, I quietly accepted stupid drivers, I laughed at stopped traffic, I left early to beat the rush and I sang and danced along with the radio.

Those thoughts quickly turned into these..."I'm only going to let a couple of people in front of me today", "I wish people would stop breaking in the tunnels", "Ah, why did that guy DO THAT...oh well maybe he was late for work". At this point I was less pleasant but still singing to the radio, shrugging at bad driving, and considering an apartment closer to the city.

>>>fast forward to today>>> "AH WHY IS THAT GUY AN IDIOT", "I CAN'T SEE YOU TRYING TO CUT IN FRONT OF ME...I CAN ONLY SEE THE BUMPER OF THE GUY IN FRONT OF ME!", "RAIN! WHY DOES IT ALWAYS RAIN HERE!?!?!", "ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGG!!!". Lets just say today's drive wasn't pleasant. A small ball of anger started welling up inside of me and suddenly I just began SCREAMING in my car. The screams that came out of me where like that of a dying animal. It just erupted. And then I began to sob.


Life is frustrating.


It wasn't just the traffic that caused what I call a "mental meltdown" but it's also the apartment to take care of, the bills that I never seem to have enough money to cover, the time I never seem to have, the lack of sleep, the lack of heat in my car, the bad weather, the leaky facet in the bathroom, the messed up social welfare system, the stress of trying to get my AmeriCorps hours in, missing my grandpa, missing my family, the stress of maintaining friendships, the occasional loneliness, the monotonous of life's routines, the people that seem to have it all together...to cut this short it's a lot of things.

But I have an incredibly great life. And I was ashamed of crying because of all the great things I have, I was ashamed because it's Christmas and I'm suppose to be filled with joy, I'm ashamed because others (like the homeless guy on 376) have it much, much, much worse. I tried to wipe my eyes before I went in my apartment. I didn't want to admit to my housemates that life just is wearing me out.

Now that I have some time to calm down I'm feeling much better (the Oreos and milk helped). And I decided to admit to my weariness on here because I decided that I shouldn't be ashamed of this. I shouldn't dwell in it for long but I shouldn't be ashamed of it. I'm just a human being and I'm bound to melt down sometimes. I suppose that's why God gave us friends, family, junk food and Jesus. And I'm thankful that he did because otherwise these meltdowns would happen by the hour.

Life is infuriating but life is incredibly good.



Enter, breath; Breath, slip out; Blood, be channeled, And wind about. O, blessed breath and blood which strive To keep this body of mine alive! O gallant breath and blood Which choose To wage the battle They must lose. -ogden nash

Grandpa

So much has been going on that I haven't had a moment to {stop. think. reflect.} in the past couple of weeks. But I had an overwhelming desire to blog on my commute home this evening...and here I find myself. My life has been turned upside down recently. I had to say good bye to my beloved grandpa this month. He was 82 and was diagnosed (for the 2nd time) with cancer about a month ago. We all knew it was coming and I've been preparing myself and my heart the phone call. I even got to go home a few weeks before and spend an entire afternoon with him, we watched football, talked about PA and joked around...that was my goodbye...and he was so sick that I knew he was frustrated being trapped in his body. He was ready to go. He drew his last breaths to the sounds of "Amazing Grace" sang by my mom, brother, and grandma. I can't hear that song without breaking into tears. I loved him very, very much. I definitely got my sense of humor from him. After my car accident this spring I called him up and the first thing he said to me after "hello" was "Well, I got some utility poles around here if you need something else to hit..." AND I always had plenty of potassium in my system when I visited him...he loved bananas and I ate countless of them at his kitchen table growing up. The grown-ups use to sit outside in these old metal chairs under this huge maple tree at his house while us kids would run around in the yard and get water from the old water pump that always had a tin cup hanging from it. He use to take me to the barn when I was little and show me the tiny piglets and he would always warn me that the sows would bite my arm off if I went too close...I never did. On 1st grade "Pet Day" all the other kids had their parents bring in their dogs and hamsters and Grandpa went along with my scheme to bring in one of those piglets. That thing squealed so loud and kept trying to wiggle away but Grandpa still brought it. He never let a conversation go on too long and always left a party when he thought it should be done. Every year my family still puts on a Thanksgiving play because Grandpa loved to yell "Squanto!" when my little brother entered the "stage" dressed in feathers and with sister dressed up like a turkey. He spotted me money when I couldn't quite make the tuition payment in college, never missed a birthday and made sure I knew plenty about Maytag washers, rainbow sweepers and the value of glassware. I miss him so, so, so, so, so much. I love you Grandpa.

An instant potatoes day...

If you haven't heard of The Wailin Jennys I pity your life up to this point. They are often featured on A Prairie Home Companion (if you don't know what THAT is you are now dead to me...I guess if you never admit to it or remedy yourself right now by going to http://prairiehome.publicradio.org/ and educating yourself it may land you back in my good graces), one of my all-time favorite radio shows, and since the first time I heard them on there I was hooked. If I ever have a theme song composed (don't put it past me) I will commission them to write and perform it for me. (Although technically I already have a theme song..."OHHHH KETTIE...YOUR WAYS ARE THE BEST WAYSSSS.." that Seth Roush composed for me but if I ever need a NEW theme song this is my plan. Also, I have no idea what my current theme song means so it may be good to have one that makes sense.)
Today involved a 5 1/2 hour food safety class (day numero dos) and a 1 1/2 hour food safety test. From what others have told me I probably won't get my results until my AmeriCorp year is almost over so they will NEVER know if I fail it. HA! I'm pretty much an expert on cooking temperatures and how to cool down that 80 lbs of spaghetti sauce you made so feel free to call me if you ever need some food safety advice. Then again I may have failed the test so it may kill you...(that's a disclaimer).
Our cat is gone.

After being trapped in a cupboard for a few hours the other day and me thinking he had run away I decided it was time that he moved out. He was only here until he could get his act together and fly straight...actually he was the runt of his litter and needed a little TLC before he had to tough it out with big bad farm life...so we took him in and spoiled him (so much for getting his act together). Now he is back at the farm and I hope he makes it. We all miss the little guy. I think he was slightly insane (he fit right in!) and did some weird stuff but he fit in our little family and now he has flown the nest. Oh how they grow up! Edgar, here's to you, I hope you survive to be an old grumpy cat!
I'm a good cook but I can get distracted. Today to quickly fill my grumbling belly I decided to make instant mashed potatoes (DON'T YOU DARE JUDGE ME...WE ALL HAVE THOSE DAYS!) and I got distracted by the phone and lights and thoughts and I poured waaaaayyy too much of those instant potato flakes in...and I don't have any milk and so I messed them up royally. Bah-humbug. You know its been a weird day when you mess up dummy potatoes. (so I just looked up dummy potatoes on Google to make sure they weren't anything else and this popped up...The Reverend Peyton's Big Damn Band - "Mama's Fried Potatoes" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FaP0PKptmQ4 ...worth a few seconds of your day!)
Okay. Go back to your lives now. Thanks for reading.

An Exaggeration

Reflection of the day

Mild confession. I hate tunnels. They always make me think of zombies and when I'm forced to stop in them I usually imagine green slime coming out of the the walls. Not to mention the reflectors on the sides make me feel like I'm in some sort of video game where I'm loosing terribly (which if you've ever seen me play video games that pretty much the norm). But anyhow back to the original thought: I hate tunnels and what makes them even worse is when a GIANT, fire-breathing (ok, so it wasn't actually breathing fire...just diesel smoke...still gross) semi-truck floors it into the tunnel and then gets stuck by your station wagon causing you to literally quake in fear. Read that again "quake in fear" (I'm gonna bold that in case you may miss it)!

Also, I promised myself I would ride the bus today but I got scared and chickened out. To make up for not riding the bus I climbed the rock wall (literally a rock wall...no we do not have one of those climbing walls with the plastic rocks in our backyard...we do have a clothes line but I can't imagine that its really all that interesting) and got to the top and looked around and it was the time of my life (OK another exaggeration...but what's a good story without some?). Actually it wasn't the time of my life (confession) but it was nice. I liked the rocks up there...they were very interesting. But when a ant grabbed onto my thumb with a surprisingly good grip for an ant I decided to go back down the hill to my home. Every girl has her limits and mine was a fierce ant called Charlie (I don't actually know his name and its probably something I can't pronounce anyways because it's in ant language which I do not happen to know).

Also, the cat has come up with a new game where he hides around a corner and then randomly leaps in my direction. I do not think he will become a fierce hunter but may have a shot at the cat Olympics. Does anyone want/need a pint size Olympic jumping cat? He is very, very cute and needs a home and on the smallish side (very small but fierce!).

I need to go pack a lunch so I'm energized for 20 K-1st graders tomorrow. I'm going to teach them how to wash their hands and then scramble eggs. In that order.

I'm going to start keeping a tally of how many days my car stays intact and not in-need of repair (like how they have those ____number of days this place has been accident free in restaurants/etc...) SO:

0 number of days since Fit Phineas (my vehicle) has been fit Reason: Rear driver's side door panel fell partially off today.

And those dear readers are my imperfect reflections on the day.