Happy Christmas Eve!

Merry Christmas Eve all! I'm out here in Arkansas, celebrating the 2nd Annual Barlow Sisters Christmas Festival, under the guise of Frandsen Family Christmas, with Special Guest Single Aunt Kate - who throws a mean dance party most nights.

I flew out last night, arriving in Little Rock, AR, around 11:30pm - Abby picked me up, then rehearsed her crazy shopping escapades on the Eve of the Eve of Christmas, which worked as a precursor to our decision to check out her local Walmart (working 24 hours during this festive family holiday time) to find something that the Little Rock Walmart was not stocked in. I was working on a week with very restless sleeps, and I was also coming from an hour ahead, so when we got to Walmart around 1am, it was really 2am. I'm not sure how I made it through that store without totally collapsing, but I do know that I felt very welcomed by my air mattress in my "bedroom" when we finally made it home.

And that 5 1/2 hours of sleep last night was much needed. So was a lot more, but hey, I'll take what I can get.

Christmas Eve has been full of family and children and tiredness - so about the normal Eve for me. The real festivities started in the evening, which they usually do, when we had fondue for a dinner - a Frandsen Family tradition. It was delicious, and as an improvement from last year, Abby was didn't over-season the meat. Way to go, Abs, I knew you could do it!

Then we made graham cracker shacks - which turned into wide open snowscapes for most of us. The icing, bless its heart, would not harden, so Abby's first attempt at a standing residence fell flat - pun totally and completely intended! - so we decided to shoot for an open field of snow to decorate. I started working on a nice scene, my story all coming together in my mind. Then little nephew Will liked what he was seeing and joined in. Suddenly I was making up all sorts of implausible stories for the various additions, and I had more mini gummy bears and sour patch kids than I planned and the populating of the little village I had resigned to him starting got way out of hand.

I was getting ready to go all China on my scene and disallow sour patch families more than one mini gummy child, when Will got distracted and moved to something a little more profitable to himself:

But all in all, the snowscape looked pretty good:

A bit chaotic perhaps, but good.

Niece Ellee did a pretty good job on her scape as well (she and I shared a "grinch" theme in one corner of both of our scenes), and Abby created a cute little "love shack" for her and Devn:

Then we finished up the night with the kids watching "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" while Abby and Devn got the Christmas Eve present ready. Then we opened the Eve present, which was Christmas jammies - Ellee got cute silkies, Will was a dinosaur, and Greg was almost a reindeer, but his head was too big for the matching cap. Don't worry, we forced it on that large noggin anyway. But the best part? The matchy-matchy of it, and I'm not talking about the kids. The best part is that at this very moment, 3 adults are walking around the same house in matching gray shirts and blue scrub pants. And the kids are nowhere near matching. Sweet, huh? No? Awkward, you say? In a slightly fun and uncomfortable, giggle-inducing way, yes it is indeed a little awkward...

The kids are all asleep now, having enjoyed a hand/foot puppet version of the Nativity, where we remember why Christmas is even something to celebrate. Devn did a good job of explaining to Ellee that Christmas is important because we celebrate the baby Jesus and what His life - and death - was for. It would seem her reasoning that we like getting presents wasn't an acceptable answer to why we celebrate Christmas. And it all ended with a sweet prayer by Ellee, blessing Santa Claus and his grandma, that they can make it around the world to all the children safely. It was maybe one of the sweetest prayers requesting pagan wishes that I've ever heard.

But now, I'm off to help, um, Santa, yes him, to get some gifts ready for the children. He's got a busy night, so I thought I'd offer whatever help I can give. This is, after all, the best time of year to give service.

So Merry Christmas Eve, all! Enjoy your Christmas - I'm certainly intending to!

My Apologies

I'm so sorry I've made you read such stupid, random posts. I've been a little busy lately, full of activities that I was in the middle of, so writing about them didn't sound super exciting. And when I finally got opportunities to write, my brain was mostly shut off, so nothing of actual interest or import was recognized as good topics to write about.

Let me tell you what I've been up to:
Heading up a Sub-for-Santa project in our ward - our awesome ward raised almost $9,000 at our service auction (what?!). I was 1/3 in charge of setting up the spending of the money, and then we followed it up with a ward wrapping party, and we had to figure out how to get the presents to the 46 families we were helping. Really, really cool project. Really, really complex and difficult to plan. I'm impressed it went off as well as it did...

Crazy week of Congress. Read the news. Read a small part of one of my last posts. It's been kind of crazy. And it's not done yet - Congress is in session Tuesday. Hopefully that'll be the last day for this 111th session of Congress.

Various Christmas Festivities - we had our ward's Christmas program last Sunday, a stake Christmas fireside last Sunday night, and another Choir Christmas Concert on Tuesday, which my roommate was in. My audience participation took a lot of time out of my week. Totally worth it. I LOVE Christmas!

I spoke in Church today. That basically destroyed my brain the whole week. I won't lie, this was the hardest talk I've ever had to give. Usually I can get some semblance of confidence in my talks by Saturday night, so I send it to my parents to read and tell me what a good and eloquent writer I am and how spiritual I can be. Apparently I was not supposed to feel good about the talk or about myself beforehand. So I experienced a first today - I winged it for 1/2 of my talk. I hope I never have to do that again...thanks everyone in my ward for being so sweet to me after. You built me back up after my intense humbling and multiple freakouts. You rock!

But I also got to do some fun, no-stress activities as well, which saved me from spontaneously combusting at any moment:
Capitol Tour - I finally got a tour of the Capitol, where I work...yikes, I'm ashamed it took so long! Actually, I'm not really in the Capitol building, but it's connected with the cool underground tunnels, so I still should've been able to explore it earlier than I did. Props to co-worker J and Mike the Intern for tag-teaming the tour I party-crashed. Between the two of you, I'm pretty sure I know all the facts and rumors about the history and interior of the Capitol!
White House Holiday Tour - I also got to go to the White House for a tour yesterday, and I brought my 2 roommates along as well. It was pretty awesome, I tell you what. We got to take our cameras, which usually aren't allowed, but because they had all the holiday decorations and Christmas trees up, they let us take pictures. And a girl in my ward ended up behind us in line, so we enjoyed our wait to get in with her and her sister, and some random girl we befriended as well. To satiate friend Berkley's picture needs, enjoy:

 Roommate Melissa's and my attempt at pretending to be touring Europeans. The peace sign is still big over there, I've noticed from actual European tourists around here.

 Bo the dog. He's gotta be represented. Didn't see any 3-D re-creations of the family, but of the dog, yes.

 There were between 1-6 trees in every room. They were gorgeous. I truly enjoyed the trees everywhere.

 The cool yule tunes of the White House Choir. When I get a really big house to live in, I think I will also have a room for a choir to reside in so they can serenade my visitors at any moment as well. Classy touch.

 The stairs to the family living quarters. It's weird to think a family actually lives here...

The White House is a pretty good-looking place, particularly at night. I was glad I got the opportunity to check the East Wing out, and during Christmas especially. It was a fun night going through there, and then walking outside to a lit up downtown DC. And, the WH security guys are probably the best-looking security in the city. I'm going to have to get more connected with this place, methinks...

So was that enough of an event dump for you? It was for me, phew. Re-hashing the week in summary form made me more tired than I already was from living it the 1st time. But I fly to Abby's for Christmas on Thursday, so I'm living for the mid-week at this point.

I hope your holiday plans are as fun as I'm expecting mine to be! All I want for Christmas is for Chicago to not get any snow until I've flown in and out on my way to Holiday Happiness - I hope Santa gets it for me!

Croutons with a salad on the side

I've been eating salads lately for lunch - it's kind of a new thing for me. I haven't generally been much of a salad person, but lately salad bars and complimentary side salads have really been hitting the spot.

The cafeteria at work has a pretty good salad bar, and, due to my lack of decisiveness, I find myself going to it more and more despite having a rather extensive choice of other delicious options. One unforeseen side effect of this: I feel like I'm so strong-willed and wise everyday when I bypass the chicken fingers and the pizza bar.

The fun part about a salad bar is all the options. Now our bar is pretty good, but not amazing - if it were, there would be all sorts of crazy and interesting choices, like pineapple or apples or craisins (how can something like craisins not be crazy - just look at that name. Craisins. Craaaaisins. Yeah, that's a good word). But I've still been enjoying what we do have.

For instance, I've come to realize I really like peas in my salad. I also take 1 or 2 cherry tomatoes, just because they're kinda fun to pop in your mouth and eat whole. I particularly like getting one really big one, and seeing if I could actually eat it whole. Turns out, my mouth really is as big as I've always given it credit for, because I have a 100% success rate with all the tomatoes I've gotten. Usually, it's the tomato juice squirting that you have to be mindful of...otherwise that can allow for some awkward moments when your desk is in the front office like mine is...

Needless to say, I've become a bit of a salad-making proficient these days. And I feel so healthy, to boot!

...that is, until I reach the end of the counter, and I nod hello to my friend the crouton bowl, and I dish in an embarrassing amount of croutons on the top of my salad. Honestly, it's almost shameful - I spend more time shoveling croutons on my salad than I spend making the rest of it.

Red-faced, I grab two more croutons, stuff them in the corners of my bowl, slam the lid closed and walk off, trying to cover the clear container with as much of my hands as I can.

All in all, I still feel rather healthy - better to eat a salad with a slightly disproportionate number of delicious, garlic-y croutons than to eat a giant piece of pizza or a greasy hamburger with over-salted fries.

So I pull my head up a little, still feeling good about my food choice and the healthy decision I made.

And then I throw a bag of peanut m&m's on top, destroying whatever respect I was barely maintaining...

Second best thing (behind those succulent croutons) about my new salad cravings? The fact that you just read a whole blog post about it...honestly, I agree - why don't I write about something a little more exciting and interesting than wasting my 5 stalker readers' time with my salad stories?

Because this is as exciting and interesting as I get, baby! I know, your mind was just blown. Sorry to break it to you.

Christmas Lights

Best part about the Christmas season?

Christmas lights, hands down.

I absolutely LOVE Christmas lights! I've spent at least 20 minutes every night during the last week just sitting in my front room of our house, with all the normal lights off, basking in the glowing Christmas tree lights and the lights in our windows. It's the ultimate stress-reliever, I do believe.

Last night, I decided I wanted to go look at Christmas lights around my neighborhood, so I recruited a friend to go for a walk and check out the surrounding homes. She one-upped me and suggested we drive around town and get more lights in a warmer environment. I was quickly persuaded to her way of thinking.

We scoured the streets for potential jackpots, anticipating greatness from some of the particularly grand and enormous manors interpersed around the neighborhoods. Surprisingly, those houses were usually the lamest ones, with little to no lights. It would seem that there aren't many companies out here that put up people's lights, though it is a growing field of industry in the West.

Instead, most of these great estates had the candles in each of the windows. Though disappointed by the lack of lighting curb appeal, the candles seemed really fitting for old, oversized homes. The time period look was the way to go. The houses looked how they might've when they were first built - no electricity, and no light but for solitary candles to light one's way. It was kind of gothic romantic in a way, so I tempered some of my disappointment with historical appreciation.

But we did see some great lightwork among the other homes we passed. There were a lot of lit up penguins, deer, and snowmen; quite a few blow-up Santas waving at us as we passed; and a few trains and sleighs. A few places had the festive one string of lights hung randomly over a bush or doorstep out of necessity. More and more places went retro with the giant lightbulb strings, which I rather liked for their quirkiness.

The best one, though, was a house we stopped at to fully appreciate. It had a nativity lit up in the yard (because it was actually made with lights - it wasn't just hit with a spotlight or something simple). And directly above it was a giant, shining star, with strands of racing lights moving down from the star to the people. So basically, Mary and Joseph, and the baby Jesus, were all being sprayed with starbeams that were constant, quick, and energetic. It was a wonderful sight.

Sadly, there was nothing super over-the-top or outrageous, but we'll go looking for them again next week. There's got to be some kooky lights somewhere. But last night was still so fun, the lights were still great. And then we went back to my friend's house, made hot chocolate and popped some popcorn (popcorn makers may very well be the best thing in the world) and settled in to watch A Muppet Christmas Carol - best rendition of Dickens's classic Holiday story, I'm convinced of it.

Saturday Shopping = Never Again

First off, I would like to take care of a little bit of business. My friend Jillian recently linked my blog to hers in her post of the Brandon Flowers concert we enjoyed on Monday. I will attest to the fact that she did indeed freak out Brandon started singing her favorite song, and she was bouncing all over the place. I am a witness. Thanks again, Jillian, that was a blast!

Secondly, I had a great day today, and I just wanted you to know that. I didn't know until tonight that it was a great day - it could've swung either way, but the end was great, which made the day totally worth it. One of my roommates, Melissa, and I braved the crazy Saturday Target shoppers and loaded ourselves with fun, festive holiday cheer. Then we went back tonight, when it was not so crazy (I will never go to Target at noon on a Saturday weeks before a major holiday ever again. Saturday holiday shoppers=CRAZY!), to get finishing touches and tools we didn't realize we needed until we started to decorate.

We also had a fun guest with us on our second trip - honorary Barlow and dedicated car dancer Lauren Major. She came to town this weekend to check out the DC scene and see how many people could talk her into moving out here...quickly. Turns out, quite a few people were willing to do that - whether they had known her before or not.

She came over and checked out my digs this evening, and I showed her the neighborhood, highlighting a few decent places she could definitely move into. Then she came with Melissa and me to Target: Take 2. We got some good stuff and I was bummed that we had to send Lauren to another friend's house without her seeing the finished product. But it was so fun to see her and catch up, and I really, really hope she moves here!

AND, after a lot of hard work, some of Melissa's blood, and an hour of sweet Christmas music, the place looks great :). I'm giddy with excitement and accomplishment. Pictures to come...when I take them.

Seacrest out.

Do You Know Where Your Teeth Are?

I was on the Metro Friday morning, on my way into work. I was standing near the door so I could pop out quickly once we got to my stop, and I look up at the advertisements that are posted for Metro riders, and one in particular catches my eye:

DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR TEETH ARE?
It's quite surprising what people forget to take with them when they get off the Metro. So before you leave, make sure you have everything you brought on. Even your teeth.

With it's accompanying picture of dentures, this may be my favorite Metro ad I've seen yet. Even better than the one that asked people to continue keeping the Metro clean so we could keep child-sized rats out of our railway systems.

Do you know where your teeth are? Because if you don't, I just might...

Pop-Tarts

Apparently Pop-tarts aren't the most common breakfast in Congressional offices.

I'm pretty sure everyone who came to my desk this morning commented on my Pop-tarts. No one usually comments on my choice of breakfast; this sudden notice of what I was eating was slightly uncomfortable.

But not much more was said beyond, "Pop-tarts for breakfast, huh?"

Or, "Enjoy your Pop-tarts..."

Maybe people just like to say the word Pop-tarts.



Pop-tarts.

Winking, ugh, What Is It Good For? Absolutely NOTHING.

Kate Fact #97: Winking generally creeps me out a little bit.

I work on the 2nd floor of my building, and I like to take the stairs to the basement and back - for one thing, they're kind of a pretty-ish, elegant sort of stairway, and for another thing, it's exercise - my thighs, sadly, burn by the time I make it up to the 2nd floor.

Sometimes I pass other stairwalkers, and we sometimes acknowledge each other with a quick smile or head nod. I try to keep at least a small smile on my face at all times when I'm in the hallways - it's my way of quickly schmoozing with the bigwigs and their bigwig staff out here.

So I'm on my way to the basement today, just hitting the stairs on the 2nd floor, and I'm looking at my feet (so I don't trip - it's my biggest fear), but I do recognize that a guy is on his way up, and we'll pass at some point. He's looking at his blackberry and holding a cup of coffee or something.

I wait until we're close before I look up at him for the polite nod/smile exchange. It turns out that we have good timing chemistry, because he looks up at the exact same time as me, just as we're about to pass each other.

Without skipping a beat, he gives me a slick, come-and-get-me smile, and a coy, "hey there, pretty lady" wink.

WHA?!

It's so smooth, the wink so anticipated, I don't know what to do. So I pull out my "shy" smile and drop my eyes back down to my feet, suddenly extra nervous about tripping.

Now I know winking is commonplace and natural for many people, and perhaps it is just a normal reaction for him when he passes someone - but he should probably lose the smarmy feeling that wafts off his closing eyelid.

I get down to the first floor flight of stairs, and I go to raise my head almost imperceptively - my eyes lifted as high as they could go to catch a glimpse of this man, so I can return his wink with a tardy, unnoticeable stink-eye (kate fact #98: I like to make random faces at people who can't see me and giggle at myself in hallways and rooms when no one is around to see/interact with me), when I realize that he's watching me go down the stairs!

I save my stink-eye for when I'm safe from his glance, and I skip down the stairs a little faster, rushing to get out of range. At first I wondered if he was just looking down at his blackberry, but I feel rather certain that unless he can read emails off the top of my head, he was definitely NOT. 

Ugh, winking. Why are you generally such a creepy gesture? Every once in a while, you fill my stomach with butterflies and happy dreams - but 98% of the time, you fill my stomach with eerie pits.Why do you do this to me?

Escalator Etiquette

There are a few things one would need to know here in DC in order to survive - I believe the most important thing is this: escalator etiquette is a BIG deal at the Metro.

If you want to walk up/down the escalator, go to the left side of the escalator. If you feel no need to do any extra work when you're already moving, stand to the right. This will ensure easy movement and a simple flow of traffic, and much less frustration. This is particularly important at the Metro because a lot of the escalators going in and out of the Metro are really deep and take a little bit of time even to walk up/down, much less to stand there waiting for the escalator to kick you off.

I generally throw out a lot of "excuse me"s and "sorry" as I push past someone to my right who's bag or foot is too big to stay to the right with the rest of them, but I try to keep a good speed as I ascend or descend - if only so I don't have to feel like the guy behind me is hovering, cursing my sluggishness in the 'fast lane.'

The worst is when you're behind a few people on the left side, and your line is barely moving, despite the fact that this side is reserved for speed demons like yourself. And then the guy in the powersuit with the power shoes is suddenly behind you, willing you to push the people ahead of you out of the way, or to just step on and over them and their out-of-town sneakers and city maps.

I know I'm not the one slowing down the escalator's walking left side, but I can feel the laser beams shooting out from the guy's eyes, melting a hole in my coat. I can't see him, but I know the thoughts and emotions going through Mr. Powersuit's mind. I know them, because I think/feel them often in the mornings, when the laser beams are particularly difficult to control.

But then I have moments when I'm in no rush and have lots of time to make my way up/down the elevator - like I did today. The 1/2 day of work was awesome, but also meant that I would have a good 15 minute way for my connecting bus, so I slowed my pace and enjoyed the dark, dank metro for a few seconds longer.

More often than not, the Metros have escalators that they don't turn on - too many people trying to all make it upstairs for an escalator to only go down right in a prime location. So the Metro people turn off the escalator (or they're broken already, whichever is easier), and people swarm to make their way up.

Every once in a while (such as this afternoon), I get the urge to treat those stopped escalators as normal, working escalators, and let the escalator "move" me upstairs. I'd check my watch a few times, sigh a little, worry if I'll make my bus in time - all the normal concerns these escalators hear about on a daily basis. Today, I almost did walk onto the stopped escalator - on the right side - and just stood there, looking as though I expected it to start moving for me, in the direction I wanted it to. I smiled broadly to myself, giggling a little in the back of my throat, at the idea of getting on the escalator with tons of people all around me, and just standing there.

Then I decided I didn't want to get stompeded to death, so I continued walking.

Johnny Rockets - Where the Good Times Roll!

It would seem that Thanksgiving Eve brings different emotions to different people.

For me, I experienced happiness and excitement - and a slight drug induced-like randomness that my roommates could only scratch their heads about (followed later by a slight drug induced-like crash that sapped all energy from my body and mind. Please note that no actual drugs were used to create these moments - it was all me).

For roommate M, she experienced exhaustion from lack of sleep mixed with joy for a free afternoon, and a desire to follow through and actually dye her hair. (We went to the store and made her wish possible by buying hair dye).

For roommate E, she dealt with frustration, stress, and sadness. She did not get a 1/2 day of work, with no supervision, like I did - in fact, she had a little too much supervision, and supervision which did not treat her with the kindness and patience that the holidays will sometimes draw out of people.

Poor girl, E's Eve was not very fun at all. We let her exercise her anger away as we went to the store, and then M & I decided tonight might just be the best night for our first roommate dinner out.

So we all thought long and hard, scratched our noggins and rubbed out chins, and decided to go to Johnny Rockets - where the good times roll! And where sandwiches and burgers are made lots of grease and oldies music.

I think my very favorite part about JR is that when they bring your food out, they bring each of you and little bowl for your own ketchup - and it has a big ketchup smiley face on it! Kinda like this:

 And this is me poking my smiley face in the eye with a french fry. Yes, you're right, it does in fact seem rather cruel and unnecessary, but it was an urge I couldn't repress, or I didn't give myself time enough to think about it to repress - at any rate, it's done, and I took a picture of it:

*Side Note: It would seem that I'm meant to be happy right now, since smiley faces keep getting thrust at me from all directions. I'm pretty o.k. with that, I think.

Smiley Face Johnny and I were good friends, as you can see. At least, until I poked his eye out, but I think he was fine with it.

Unfortunately, I'm seriously doubting that my roommates will ever take me to dinner/out in public with them ever again. I had lost quite a bit of my energy by the time we got to JR, but I hadn't yet shaken the ability to keep thoughts and singing shut in my mind. I found myself mumbling a bit and singing to the sweet music playing - perhaps louder than I probably ought to have. And by probably, I mean definitely. It would seem I'm not going to shake that 'crazy person' reputation anytime soon...oh well.

JR was delicious, the old-school 50's style thick strawberry milkshake was divine, but it did not keep me and M from wanting to hurl by the time we left. Walking to the car, I had to keep reverting to caveman walking, so my stomach wouldn't feel so stretched out and helpless. In fact, I'm sitting here 4 hours later still wondering if my stomach will ever settle down.

But on the flipside, I think we were able to put a ketchup smiley face on E, so it was worth it.

Twas the Morning Before Thanksgiving...

On this very merry Thanksgiving Eve, I had a very pleasant day. I went to work like normal, but not a creature was stirring, not even a newspaper hawker. I enjoyed a much roomier metro ride to the office, with thoughts of sugarplum fairies and 1/2 day workdays running through my head.

The Chief of Staff hadn't mentioned anything during the week to me about giving us a shorter day today, but the staff seemed to anticipate such an event occurring, so I held my breath (figuratively, and occasionally literally) as I waited for the Chief to call me to check in at some point during the morning.

There were only 4 of us (including - gulp - OWC!) in the office today - compared to the normal 11-12 peeps on an average day, with countless people coming in and out of the office. Barely anyone stopped in, and we spent most of the morning conversing, which I quite appreciated - I got to know the staff a little more from the eyes of the other staff. I won't lie, the 3 staffers there with me may be my favorites. At any rate, I've thus far been able to talk with them the easiest, so I was happy they were working. None of us had really pressing matters to get to, so we talked and enjoyed ourselves in the back office, then did some work, and then the other 3 came and relaxed in the front office with me for a bit.

And then, at the stroke of noon, the Chief calls - OWC answers and sends him over to me. I pick up and chat with Chief for a few minutes, ask a question I had thought of, ignore the highly excited air wafting over to me from the back room as 1 staffer bounces from toe to toe in anticipation of what joy this phone call brings.

The receiver clicks down - the phone has been hung up - and suddenly staffer R has roadrunner-ed over to me (the whoosh of the air is still noticeable from the backroom where she started from), calmly wondering whether my conversation with the Chief was fun or not.

"He said that if it's slow and you don't have anything pressing to do, you can leave at one."

Euphoria takes over the front office. Suddenly the other 2 staffers have moleculized in front of me from the back, and OWC asks me to repeat what the Chief says. I smile coyly (do boys even recognize these different smiles? I may just be wasting my time with this...), and repeat my previous statement. OWC smiles lovingly back at me, and I see us 5 years from now with 3 children, when R returns shaking with excitement about her newfound afternoon freedom. Literally shaking - she'd had a little too much caffeine this morning, so her hand was rather trembly.

We brave through the next hour, and then suddenly it's one.

No one wants to be the 1st to race out the door, so we let staffer J set the precedent - he's going out of town in the afternoon, so he was going to leave around that time anyway. R follows suit a few minutes later, and we talk about skipping Black Friday and just hitting the outlets in the afternoon, just because.

And I'm alone with OWC.

He's in the other room, I can't even see him. I hear no sounds of him wrapping up to leave, so I decide not to try to time my departure with his - I really want to be home more than I want to talk to him at this point (that's what happens when it's obligatory - other priorities take precedent rather easily), so I get up, talk to him for a second and wish him a happy Thanksgiving, and then I bolt, leaving him wanting more...possibly.

The best part of all this - I was home by 2pm. None of this 'home after the sun has set' mess my usual days consist of. I got into my house, turned the heat up, made a warm lunch, and then climbed into my bed and settled in for a nice relaxing afternoon.

This holiday, I'm thankful for 1/2 days at work - it brings a smile to my face everytime I get one.

I'm also thankful for you, my 7 readers, and your stalker-like thoughtfulness to read my random thoughts and stupid experiences without making your presence known. Thanks for secretly following my life in all its minutiae.

You rock, just FYI. Happy Thanksgiving Day!

Smile!

I pulled apart an oreo tonight and this is what I got:

Seems a little bit like a sign of good things to come, perhaps? At least a friendly reminder to keep smiling, even when life pulls at you from both sides?

How much do you think this could sell for on Ebay?

The Lucky Ones

I jumped on the metro in the morning, on my way to work, headphones in my ears, staring blankly in front of me as I clung to the bar I stood next to. I was standing with people squeezed in all around me, but I was in my own world, the soundtrack to my day playing in surround sound through my brain.

My favorite part about my commute from residential Arlington to Capitol Hill is when we cross the Potomac River. The Metro is an underground subway of sorts, but I get to enjoy the rare reprieve from the tunnel tracks when we cross the bridge over the River. We burst out into the brilliant morning sunshine, particularly radiant after the darkness of the underground, and exceptional as it pulls my eye to the Washington Monument which we're speeding toward, with the rest of the monuments and the Capitol all waiting to peek out from behind each other and greet me in turn before I go back into the dark abyss.

Today, as I stood on the metro, plummeting through the dark, I decided to switch up my daily soundtrack a bit. I turned on Brendan James's "The Lucky Ones." It was a free song from Amazon one day, and I remembered liking it, but I hadn't listened to it in a while, so I couldn't remember why.

As we chugged out of the tunnel into the stunning sunlight and gorgeous scenery, I heard the Brendan sing:

On the edge of a moment,
In the land that we love,
In the time that our best has to be good enough,
Like all those before us, we start out alone,
We race from our schoolyards, into the unknown
City lights, as far as the eye can see,
You and I, we will live differently

I was struck by the awesome timing of what I was hearing and what I was seeing. I might as well have been in a movie, the place and song were so perfect for each other. My fellow passengers in the mornings are luckily rather tired and droopy, sleeping or looking down, so no one witnessed me smile like an idiot, silently laughing at the beauty of my experience. And then I heard Brendan continue:

With our hearts in our hands,
Like loaded guns,
We're taking a chance,
We're the lucky ones,
This moment is yours,
This moment is mine,
And we're gonna be fine.
 
And I thought, "I really am a lucky one. I'm lucky to be here, to get to ride into work each morning with such a great view, to savor the beauty of the East coast's Autumn, to participate in the dealings of a great nation, to walk the streets of a big city that often acts like a small city. And I really do think I'm gonna be fine."

I almost laughed out loud at the contentedness that had sweeped over me, a girl who minutes before had been as dull and lifeless as her neighbors on the train. And now, here I was, conspiring with Brendan James to live differently, confident that despite whatever lies ahead of me, I'm taking this moment I have and I'm going to really live with purpose and joy.

And with the whisper of a smile still lingering on my lips, the train plunged back into the darkness.

Notice of Eviction: Dear bugs and insects residing in my home...

Monday night I killed a millipede that was running on the wall by my sink as I brushed my teeth.

I yelled at it after smacking it with my flip flop, pleading with the all the bugs listening to stay out of my house - if they would just stay outside, I wouldn't kill them.

I really hoped that message would sink in.

Yesterday morning, a giant cricket jumped into the bathtub as I showered. It kept struggling to climb and hop to the top of the bathtub while I stood still as a statue, silently freaking out about what to do while shampoo ran into my eyes. Then, all of his energy spent, a final hop didn't get him as high as he planned, and he rebounded into the sitting water in the tub. Horrified, I struggled between angst for the flailing bug and horror at the idea of him slowly floating into my foot.

And then suddenly, the cricket stopped moving.

Surprisingly, to me, that affected me a lot - definitely more than my own killing of the nasty millipede only the night before.

I've come away from that with two insights from that 12 hours of death I experienced:

1. Drowning is infinitely worse than anything else. I freak out about the thought of drowning, and even just watching a bug - one that I had been debating on how to kill just seconds before - go through such a terrible fate scarred me for the entire day. I'm pretty sure I'm still a little traumatized.

2. All bugs and insects that want to live should STAY OUTDOORS. I cannot stress this enough to the bug and insect community. I know it seems scary and dangerous outside, but your chances of survival are 98.6% better if you remain outside than if you come into my residence. You may scurry, trying to get out of my eyesight, but I will see you - and I will kill you. Or, I will get someone else to kill you, after you've been trapped under tupperware for 24 hours or so. But it will come. I'm trying to do you a favor here - do not come into my room, my bathroom, my hallway, or anywhere else in here, and you will not suffer death by my hands.

Let this proclamation be heard by all.

Barlowpalooza 2010 Remembered

I've been looking through my pictures, gathering some of my favorites to put in a giant collage of frames or some type of memories wall. Eventually I will make this vision of a picture wall in my room a reality, but it's pretty far off still.

However, I've been trying to prepare myself for when that far off future comes by at least having the pictures ready. As I was looking through them, I came across some pictures that just made me smile, some that made me laugh, and some that made me smail and laugh even after I'd gotten 10 pictures past them. So I had to share them.

Most are from the great Barlowpalooza 2010, though two come from my visit to Zach and Jamie's in Arizona, and then there are some old ones of when Abby and Devn move to Arkansas last Summer (bear with me, there are a few here...):

 

And this is me restraining myself and holding back from adding 20 more pictures...

Edgar Allan Poe Writes a Rap

I went over to my friend Jillian's house this evening. We had intended to hang out for a bit and then hop over to a dance that some stake was putting on. My roommate was going over to it as well, for the service project. She doesn't like to dance.

That made me feel bad because I was going over purely for the dance - I don't like to do service.

Okay, that's mostly a lie - I just wanted to keep some good consistency in my sentences. I actually do like to do service. I don't do enough of it - meaning I don't do very much planned out service - but I serve when I can. But I did feel bad because my main goal of the activity was to get out on the dance floor and break it down like Usher.

Turns out, I didn't end up feeling bad about not planning to do the service project at the dance - because I didn't even make it to the dance. Instead, I stayed at J's house, ate dinner with her roommates, got custard from a great shop that respects Wisconsin custard and wants the Northern Arlington area to appreciate it as well, then returned to J's house and turned the pages of a pianobook while her roommate played and we quietly sang to the few showtunes and musical numbers we knew. It would seem my musicals background is lacking considerably.

When J's roommate started to play a song that I'd never even heard of, my attention drifted over to the bookcase in the room. I scanned the titles, flipping through a few pages of a comedic book from Dave Barry (funny guy!), and stopped at "One Hundred and One Poems." I saw that it contained names I knew, so I looked through the pages, deciding whether or not I would actually stop and read a whole poem.

As the party started dying down, and J and roommate Theresa were deciding to watch a movie, I hit upon a poem by Edgar Allan Poe - "The Bells." Poe is interesting to me because you can count on his writing to be dreary and a little bit creepy (and by a little bit, I mean lots and lots), and the Halloween spirit was still in me, so I read through it.

I was surprised at the immediate joy the poem begins with, not fully expecting that from him. But it quickly turned gloomy and eerie, which made me feel much more comfortable with Poe. I read through most of it and decided it would be a new tradition to read this aloud on Halloween each year. It really is creepy, and It's got a great rhythm to it - Poe meant for it to be read aloud.

So, of course, I did read it aloud. When I was reading it in my head, my leg caught the bounce of the poem, bouncing a little with it, yearning for me to recite the poem, allowing my whole body to take on the rhythm. I called J to come look at the poem, and then I started reading section III loud:

Hear the loud alarum bells -
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now -now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells -
Of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

Honestly, I dare you to not give into the urge to read it out loud. It almost forces you to. I was impressed at how swiftly I picked up even on words I don't usually say, which might throw me off my beat a little, but I just rolled right over each word.

The best part about this poem is that when I recite, I speak it like a rapper. This tough, gangsta person comes out, and I'm hunched over a little, knees bent, rapping Poe. That's the rhythm I hear in it. Rapper style. I just need a beat-boxer to chime in with some background vocals, and this is a bonafide rap performance.

I'm pretty sure I recited it straight through twice, I was having way too much fun with it. At first, I had really tried to read it as I expected Poe to have heard it in his head: melancholy, deep-throated, spooky. The change from the bells celebrating joy and marriage to terror as we learn how Ghoul-like creatures ring them. Poe really was an odd one.

But I always went back to a rap style. And I liked it. I really liked it. I just stopped writing and looked it up again so I could read it out loud once more. Call me a nerd (I know you already have at least once while reading this), but I think it's awesome.

Who would've thought that Edgar Allan Poe would have the distinction of being basically the Pioneer of Rap?

Cool stuff on a random Friday night, no?


*Seriously, go read this poem - OUT LOUD!

Excuse Me While I Breathe

Sometimes, when I get involved in a longer conversation, I forget to breathe when I talk.

I'll have a thought that I'm trying to express - in the long-winded, rambling way of speaking that I excel at - and some internal note in my mind cries, "DON'T STOP FOR BREATH OR YOU'LL FORGET YOUR WHOLE POINT!!!!" I certainly don't want that to happen, since I've spent the last 5 minutes trying to get set up to share that whole point, so I listen to my misguided brain.

It's like I think that if I stop to take a breath before an intended stop or break in my sentence, I'll never be able to talk again.

 Is that silly?

I think it is. Irrational, at the very least. Deadly, at the very most. What if one day I decide to say the longest sentence ever created, and I never stop to breathe in the middle of it? (I even refused to breath as I typed that line...it's encroaching on my mental thoughts now, too!)

It's a dangerous game I'm playing.

It's been a particular problem lately. I find that the more serious or in-depth the conversation is, the worse I get at breathing. And I've had quite a few in-depth, long conversations with my roommates in the last 2 weeks, getting to know them a little more.

I've also just gotten over a lousy cold, which moved from a very stuffy nose down to an ugly, hacking cough. It all moved through my body in the course of a week, but the remnants of the cough have held on for dear life.

And when I pushed myself to the limit of not breathing, trying to eke out the last words of a very important sentence about elephants being tied for my 3rd favorite animal in the world, it causes me to swallow and take a fake, half-breath. The swallow and breathing at the same time makes for a strange experience in my throat - cue coughing, trying to breathe, and coughing like my life depends upon it. For about 5 minutes.

So instead of my roommates continuing their interest in my ranking of favorite animals of the world,  they just think I'm crazy because I end every thought with a hacking cough. And because I can't finish telling them that the star-nosed mole rounds out the top 20, the topic switches to something silly, like what our famillies are like or what our hobbies are. Like those are good conversations to get to know someone by.

Maybe that's why my room's in the basement now.

Restoring Fear, then Combating it with Sanity

I'm kind of living the "When in Rome" motto these days - when in Rome, go to places and events Rome has.

I wish I was actually in Rome, so my re-worked motto could be literal as well as figurative, but I'll work with what I've got.

I am, however, in the place where the most anticipated Layman's Rally was staged to take place this weekend. Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert's "Rally to Restore Sanity And/Or Fear" stormed the National Mall in DC yesterday. And I was there.

A friend and I decided that we should go be part of history, so we met up with a few other friends and made our way - somehow - into the city. The Metro was a nasty place to be yesterday, to be sure. Even though we went in a little late, planning to get there right when Jon Stewart took the stage - skipping the pre-show excitement - there was still a huge crowd of people on the platform, waiting for trains as well. Apparently, earlier in the morning, there had been lines to even get into the Metro station, so many people were making their way into the city!

I managed to keep breathing through the heavy crowds around me (despite a slight cold that was fighting my nasal passages, yuck), but my claustrophobia started to kick in after we got off the train and made our way to the stairs to get out of the station. Masses of people were trying to squeeze their way onto the tiny escalators to get up, and it was all I could do to not start throwing punches to get out of there. But we made it, and I was so happy to get out of the crowded Metro.

Then we ran into the rally crowd.

I saw on a news article today that an estimated 250,000 people attended the rally. I believe it.

Despite Jon's theme, it was INSANE!

We wiggled our way into the rally somehow, smushed between hordes of people, and unfortunately, those people were basically our best view of the rally. We were so far from the closest screen that we couldn't really make out what was going on, and the speakers were nowhere near us, so people kept having to ask each other what was just said.

We cheered when we heard other people cheer.

We applauded when we heard applause in front of us.

We laughed when we made our own jokes, having no idea what other people were laughing at.

It was a pretty fun time.

We actually did get a little closer as we inched our way inward, but the most memorable moments really came from when we were further back. We were behind this tree when we first entered the throng, and a girl was sitting up in it - and these trees are huge, and really tall, so we're not too sure how she got up. Eventually, a boy decided he wanted to get up there, too, so he started scaling the tree. The murmur of speculation about whether he'd make it or plummet to the earth came over our section of the crowd. We gasped when he lost a little grip and we cheered as one when he made it into the tree. Everyone had forgotten about the rally momentarily - how much were we really a part of it before, anyway? - and this guy had become the focus. Then his friend started working his way up, a little less skillfully, and we were laughing a little at his gangly frame trying to conquer the massive tree. But we all cheered again as his friend steadied him in the tree. A third friend went up, too, positively shaking with fear, and we were all relieved when he made it, as though we knew him personally or something.

Then, as the 4 people were all tucked into the tree, we heard behind us, "HEY! GET OUT OF THE TREE!" The policeman's voice was impressively powerful to reach our ears from as far back as he was. The guys heard him and made their way back down, which was just as entertaining, but the girl heard nothing, so she stayed up. The policeman came closer to us, muttering, "Man, I don't want to go into this crowd, nobody wants me in here," half exasperated, half bemused. He and another office came in and called the girl down, and the people around the tree all helped her on her way down, since no one had any idea how she was going to get down herself - we were still rather impressed at how she might've gotten up there!

Then the policemen, standing right next to us, saw some people in a neighboring tree and sighed, refusing to fight their way through the crowd over to the tree. So they yelled to the tree-dwellers, who didn't hear them. So, they went on to the next tactic to do their job - they told all of us to yell, on the count of 3, "GET OUT OF THE TREE!" Our little section was unified at this moment, as everyone yelled together to get the people out of the tree.

When they still didn't budge, but looked a little confused about the fuss, I offered to throw some rocks at them to get them out. The 2nd policeman declined that idea, noting he wasn't nervous about me hitting the tree-dwellers, but the people around them would get hit, too. Then he wondered where his super-soaker watergun was, because that would be perfect. Finally, the message reached the people, and they got out of the tree, and the policemen made their way out of the crowd, praising us for our great police work.

That's the thing about rallies and events like this - everyone's there just to have a good time, so everyone was super nice. There were quite a few times when a hole opened up in front of us, and some guy next to me asked if I wanted to go up, instead of taking it right away himself. People were telling other people what was being said, cracking jokes with strangers, and having an all-around good time. Jon was right when he advertised this rally as being like Woodstock, but without the nudity and drugs.

It really was a blast, even if I couldn't hear most of what was going on, and it took us 30 minutes to get through 20 meters of road when we were trying to leave. And that was when Stephen Colbert's rally theme seemed to win out to me - fear was restored when I wondered if I'd ever make it out of the crowded streets, or if I'd be stuck there forever, not moving, not getting away.

But sanity pushed its way back as I realized that was an irrational worry, and I started shoving people out of my way to get back home.

Costume Brainstorms at 1am

I was talking with my friend earlier tonight about a Halloween dance/party we decided we'll attend this coming Saturday (after attending Jon Stewart's "Rally to Restore Sanity" Saturday morning, of course). It's a costume party, of course, so we were brainstorming on what we would be this year - mainly what she would be. I tend to stick to an outfit for multiple years - you may call me boring and unoriginal, but I consider it more economically-conscientious; I like to get good use out of my costumes. Plus I get anxious about putting together actual costumes, so when I get a good one, I hold on to it.

Take my poodle skirt phase - I was a 50's girl for about 7 years in a row, due to an oddly large amount of poodle skirts we seemed to have. They were all cute, and I loved wearing them, so I took the opportunity as much as possible. I'd be one now if I had a skirt again.

Then there was the default witch costume I used for 4 straight years as a child - it was a cute little dress, and I was darling, so why change a good thing? Plus, I got to wear tights with ghosts on them - pretty rad, if I may say so myself!

I was an Indian one year, which I really enjoyed, and who in our family didn't enjoy the cute little lamb costume at age 3?

In college, I had to just do whatever I could with what I already had, so I've also been: Grandmother Willow (from Pocahontas, though I think of it more as a prequel - Gma Willow in her younger years), the Rainbow (a happy accident, I must say), and a couch potato (this didn't really require a costume, just a determination to not get off the couch all night...I was a good one that year).

But just because my actual costumes are often repeated and rather bland, it doesn't mean I don't have a good imagination for costumes that others can wear! I had some good ones for my friend tonight. My ideas, and the ideas I got from children's costume lists, made for a good selection to choose from.

MY TOP 5:
5. Inky, from Pacman - everyone goes the Mario Kart way, but Inky's pretty original - it's also on the list of 10 unsexy costumes, for girls who don't want to be a 'sexy' something this year. Awesome.

4. A Working Floor Lamp - a classic of brother Ben's making. I'm oftentimes impressed by that guy. Props to his creativity, channeling a Karate Kid-esque idea and making it work. Literally. It's a costume I share with everyone when this conversation comes up.

3. Lawn Gnome - If I was shorter, it'd be the automatic go-to costume of choice.

2. A Pig in a Blanket - a nice pun on the food. It's my back-up plan right now...

And the #1 goes to...
1. Crazy Cat Lady - complete with slippers and tattered bathrobe, crazy messy hair, nasty lipstick and rouge, and a multitude of stuffed kitties glued to her or hanging on leashes. Awesome, no? Pure inspiration, that one.

Honorary Mentions:
* Lumberjack - this makes the list purely because my friend had thought of it, with a nasty unibrow and other blah features, and I said, "Oh, so a Minnesota Lumberjack then?" A little Northern Midwest humor - if such a thing exists. I thought I was pretty clever, anyway.

* Sister Wives - you need to have 3 or 4 other friends who are okay hitting the streets frumpy-style, and feeling all-around kind of creeped out, but still, clever. Curiously, this also made the list of 10 unsexy costumes, though I can't imagine why...

Honestly, I fall more in love with the Crazy Cat Lady idea the more I think about it. I'm going to need to remember this one and bust it out at the next family party in a few years, when I'm still single and by my lonesome, and everyone else is surrounded with their growing families. It'll be a good time.

Or perhaps I'll use it this year when kids come knocking at my door, asking if I have any treats to give in order to save myself from getting tricked - when I open the door, they won't know if it's a costume or real life, and they'll run away screaming. Who got the last trick now, suckers?!

The Eerie Beauty of Monuments at Night

Today I went into "work" for 2 hours, to finish some training I've been getting the last 2 days, for when I officially start my job on November 8th.

Which means I basically spent the last 3 days learning things I will most definitely have forgotten in 2 weeks when I need to remember it all again.

It made me feel the need for some good exploration before I settle down into being a normal person again, wanting nothing to do having fun and enjoying the city. Luckily, my new friend Jillian understood my restlessness and offered the idea of visiting some of the Capitol's monuments at night.

Turns out, I like the monuments best at night.

They really have their moment in the spotlight at night - quite literally. It was gorgeous walking around the National Mall, seeing all the monuments lit up and shining in every direction. It felt so safe and inviting. Despite the chilly night and a rather cold nose, it was a great outing.

As we walked along the really long reflection pool between the WWII monument and the Lincoln Memorial, friend Jillian reminded me of the scene in Forrest Gump, when the girl runs through the pond while Forrest is speaking at a rally. I considered that it seemed like a great experience to have, so I decided to walk through the pond as well toward the Lincoln Memorial. I looked around - it was dark, and there were no guards, or anyone in general, to yell at me to get out, and Jillian and I stepped over the side, into the pool and made our way to the other end.

Oddly enough, the pool, which is usually quite full, was half-drained, with mud along the edges. So, if you want to a stickler, I suppose we didn't really relive the scene from Forrest Gump. We just walked along the dry edges, next to the mud. We weren't really sure why it was empty like that, but we seized the opportunity it created, so we could say that we walked through the reflection pool - something most people don't do, you know, since you can't. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be allowed on a normal, completely-full-pool day. At least, it wouldn't be looked highly upon. But when was the last time I cared about doing things people might look down on me for? (oh yeah, that's right, just this morning, actually...oh well.)

Before the pool, though, we walked around part of the WWII memorial, and I noted all the states that I had some connection with, direct or indirect, and bored J. with my random notes of reference for the various places. We did stop and check out Wisconsin's spot, but then moved hastily on when we realized spiders were dangling on the wreath, waiting to dive-bomb us. Gross.

We checked out the Lincoln Memorial, which is much less crowded on a chilled Friday evening than on a warm Saturday afternoon - go figure - and I enjoyed the space I had to move around and really look at the place.

Then we made our way to the Vietnam Memorial, where we passed a guy who had just found someone and was starting to break down in sobs. It broke my heart a little bit, but at the same time, I was glad this was here for him to find even just the name to connect with for a few minutes. We moved on to the Korean War Memorial after, which is really cool and pretty normally, but late at night, close to Halloween, it's actually a little eerie. The carvings on the Memorial kind of look like ghosts, and the statues of the soldiers marching on were a little creepy in the dark. But it was an interesting place to walk around.

But by now, it was a little after 11pm, and we decided it was time to make our way home. After getting lost while trying to find a parking spot - any parking spot! - around the Mall, and inadvertently leaving the area all together before making it back, it had felt like we'd been there for awhile, and despite feeling rather safe here (even if, at the heart of the matter, I was still a little white girl walking around the middle of a rather large, dark city), we thought 11:15 at night seemed like a good time to leave.

As we left, we saw tents that were being set up nearby. There's always something going on Saturdays at the Mall, but we were intrigued about what this specifically was. As we got to a light, I saw giant signs on a few tents, marking the spots for "BIKES," "LADIES," and "MEDICAL." My first thought was, maybe there's a triathlon going on here? J agreed it could be, but questioned where they would swim.

The half-full reflection pool seemed the only logical choice to me. It's not very deep at all, but those turtles and crocodile-looking tree stumps may slow your progress down. Not to mention all the mud caking the edges of the receding waters to keep you from escaping the waters easily. Good luck with that, swimmers...

I'll have to look up what awesome event with bikes we're missing tomorrow. But as for next weekend, I can tell you what I'll be enjoying down at the Mall - with all the logic and practicality I have, I will be calmly and thoughtfully enjoying Jon Stewart's "Rally to Restore Sanity." This is a campaign I fully support, since I generally live sanely and require an ability to act sanely from those I associate with, as a rule. Ironically, I anticipate a quite insane crowd to gather for this - and I'm excited to experience it! Of course, if the sanity is a little too boring, I'll just leave and step on over to Stephen Colbert's "March to Keep Fear Alive." It will be Halloween weekend, after all - you'd be hardset to chase fear away that weekend anyway.

And that, my friends, is why I moved to DC. To enjoy the Capitol of our country, in every light, aspect, and rally that I can!

One Step Closer to Ruling the World

Well, it's not really a surprise, since I'm pretty sure I've told everyone I can think of in some way or another, but...I HAVE A JOB!

(I feel like that lead-in would fit an engagement announcement best, but this announcement will just have to do for now...)

I'm super excited about it, for 2 main reasons: 1.) It's a job in a Congressman's office, in Washington, DC, the capitol of the nation - it's the ultimate of governmental positions for a girl with no previous political interests; and B.) it's a job, and I really needed to find a job.

I will be working for Congressman Wally Herger - R, who is in the House of Representatives, representing a district in Northern California, around Sacramento, specifically the Chico area. Having once had a roommate who was from Chico, I feel like I know the place already, so I think it's a perfect fit.

I think my favorite part about all of this is that when I came in for a 2nd interview, to meet Congressman Herger, he was in California, so we got to video chat for a little bit. It was a new experience for us both, and I'm not sure who was more tickled about it, though Congressman Herger was quite delighted with the technology capabilities we got to employ. My cousin Jeremy, having looked him up, decided that he had some strong haircut resemblances to Grandpa Barlow, and when I thought about it, I realized this excitement over the video chat resembled G-pa Barlow's love of computers, too, which seemed like another good omen to me.

This whole thing happened rather quickly, I must say. Only 8 days ago, I'd forgotten completely about the fact that I'd sent my resume in for this position. But one phone call and two interviews all crammed into one week, and I've gone from unemployed with no hope to deciding how parts of this country will be run.

So my "official" title is Executive Assistant/Office Manager/Scheduler. Apparently I can decide what I really want my title to be - the chief of staff said I could choose what I wanted to go by. I was toying with the ideas of "She Who Must Be Obeyed" or "Babysitter to the Congressman," but then I realized the 1st one had been used before so people would get confused (here's to you, dad!), and the second just didn't sound professional enough - it made me seem 15 years old and boy-crazy, which may actually be closer to the truth than anything else... - so I went with the regular jargon. I'll probably drop 'scheduler,' but for now, it helps explain my duties a little better.

I'm going to start getting trained a little in my job this week, so hopefully I can live up to the high expectations of the office - I think they're anticipating a lot out of me, apparently I led them to believe I was really smart and quick to catch on. I'll just have to tap into the supernatural mental abilities I'd perfected my senior year of college (which I quickly lost when I started working at a financial company - it would seem not even my super learning & comprehension powers couldn't survive the insurance & investments business...).

But anyway, that's my life right now. For my closing remarks, I'd like to say sorry to my mom for finding a job, which will allow me to stay here a little longer. And even less than 24 hours after you'd pushed for me to apply to U of U's English program. Bummer. Of course, if by whatever fluke, the elections don't go quite right in November, perhaps that plan will still be valid...but I'm not anticipating any changes in the next few weeks (fingers crossed!).

Also, after a conversation with a friend who's decided to go on a mission, and all I really wanted to do was spread her news to various friends of ours, I've also wanted to make an official apology to my brother, Ben Barlow - sorry for stealing your thunder when your mission call came and I ran out to tell mom where you were going. What can I say, I'm a punk like that.

All and all, it's been a busy week/2 days in this neck of the woods. Here's hoping the rest of the week can keep up!

Wise Words Come With Strange Imagery

I moved to the basement bedroom this week, so a new roommate could have my room upstairs. She's a good friend of my other roommate who owns the place, and she had visited a little while back and had a really strong feeling that she needed to be out here when she stayed in that bedroom. Blah blah blah, I had been asked before if I'd be okay with living down here in the basement - with my own bathroom - if this girl moved in, and I said I could probably make that work. I didn't anticipate it happening after I moved in, as it didn't sound like she was actually going to come. But then one day, everything was settled and the question of me moving resurfaced.

At first, I wasn't super excited about the idea, but I had said it could probably work, and we needed a 3rd roommate, so I sucked it up and figured I could at least handle it for a few months and then I could try to sell my contract if needs be. And once we sprayed and killed the bugs that had moved in over the last weekend, I felt much better about it (Note: Chris, that spider really was huge, no exaggeration - I know you were thinking it. My roommate wasn't going to believe me either, until she saw it and agreed that it filled more of the tupperware than one would want to see).

The problem of moving again, though, is that I have to organize again...sigh. So my room is a slight mess - though there's a lot more room for the mess to be in now - but I spent tonight trying to get everything a little bit more settled. As I was moving things around, I picked up some binders I keep close to my bed, wondering where to put them now, and between the binders, I found the book I had to put together for my Senior Writing Seminar class of my favorite writing pieces. So I snuggled into my bed and took some time perusing some of my better papers and essays.

The teacher I had for this class was a huge fan of C.S. Lewis, so when I had to come up with a name for this collection, the teacher I T.A.'ed for tried to help me by thinking of ways we could change Lewis book titles for me. Some of our favorites were "The Problem of Kate" (the original is the Problem of Pain), "The Great Kate" (Divorce), and "The Chronicles of Kate" specifically, "The Lion, The Witch, and the Kate." My teacher's absolute favorite though, was his idea of "Mere Kate-ianity," to play on "Mere Christianity." Oh the humor teachers have...

I ultimately went with "A Writer Observed" (based off of "A Grief Observed), for a few reasons - a.) I like Lewis and since the idea was already passed on to my current teacher and made him laugh, it seemed okay to do (he even had some other silly options for me to consider); b.) I really hate thinking of titles and I'm terribly bad at it, so having the work already half done was something I couldn't walk away from; and c.) it felt quite egotistical and awkward to posit my name in the title, so the much simpler "Writer" won out, and this one seemed most fitting for what this collection was actually about. Plus, "Mere Kate-ianity" was always hard for me to say - I kept putting in more syllables and tripping over the whole thing.

I had a great time reading through my old essays and literary analyses, and I appreciated the fact that at one point I was really smart and wrote pretty well. Maybe one day I'll be like that again. Honestly though, I wrote some rather decent essays, if I may say so myself.

My favorite part of re-reading my papers is generally when I come across a line or a thought I remember being really excited to put to incorporate into the piece. Tonight, that came when I was reading an essay we had to write for the Senior Seminar class, pondering on being an authentic person and what that meant, and if we were living authentically. We were given completely free reign to write this however we wanted to, so I wrote it in a segmented form, switching between paragraphs of memories, contemplation, and philosophical theories (it sounds smarter and deeper than it actually probably is). But I got to the point near the end where I'm considering that I sometimes have a tendency of blocking out the parts of me I don't like so that I don't see them, which I then think means that no one else can see them either - kind of a peek-a-boo game like we play with kids, or like when Zach would hide under the covers in our parents' bed and say he wasn't there, because he couldn't see us.

So I'm recognizing that this is a trait I sometimes have, but that it really doesn't work like I think it does. And I draw this great picture when I explain - "My blindness doesn't block those things from others' view; it really just makes everyone else feel bad to see that I'm so oblivious to the hypothetical toilet paper stuck to my foot. It leaves me in the dark of a secret that I started."

The Hypothetical Toilet Paper - GENIUS! A giant grin broke over my face as I read that line, specifically for 2 reasons: a.) it's beautiful imagery, am I right? LOVE IT; and b.) I remembered being so proud of that line when I originally wrote it. I shared it with my friend, gushing with creative excitement and the feeling that I really needed to get some more sleep at night, and he just laughed and rolled his eyes at me. Then he asked if I was actually going to keep that in my paper, and when I said, "of course!" he turned and walked away from me.

It was a long essay with a lot of introspection and thought and research involved, and I felt like that thought breathed new life into the essay and kept it alive through to the end. I think it's great, and I'm already trying to think of what I can use that idea in again to spread the joy and wisdom with others.

I also realized that this wasn't a new thing for me to write something rather odd in the middle of an essay, particularly regarding personal essays. I've found evidence of interesting imagery and 'creative' writing in a lot of my writing - call me adventurous, but I like to push the boundaries when it comes to classy, professional writing. But I will say this - it's never out of place or unthoughtful. At least you can feel confidant that when strange, odd lines come out and into my writing, you can know that I put a lot of thought into expressing myself in such an odd way. I didn't just vomit my thoughts and feeligns haphazardly onto the paper, you know?

RAIN!

Today I went for a run in the pouring rain. It was a BLAST!

Let the record state that it was not pouring when I left. It was drizzling a little when I got ready to go, raining a little harder when I actually left. Nothing I couldn't handly.

Two minutes later - torrential downpour.

The rain calmed down a very little bit a few minutes later, but then it poured even harder about 5 minutes later. And I was smiling and laughing the whole time! Best morning ever!

Luckily, I recognized that my normal running mix would not be suitable for a rainy day, so I quickly made the switch on my shuffle from upbeat, bouncy music to the laid-back, chill, perfect-for-a-rainy-day Joshua Radin and his sweet new album. I've been in love with this boy and his voice for the last 2 years, and I was so excited to find out he had a new album out! It was like he knew I would want to go running in a rainstorm soon, so he busted out some great songs for me to enjoy the beautifully wet morning. Thanks, Joshua, I appreciate knowing you've been thinking of me, too.

Honestly though, it was a fun time out there. I used to hate running in the rain during cross-country in high school, but I've decided it had more to do with a lack of good wet-weather running clothes. I was a little better dressed today. And aside from having to wring out my hood and the cuffs of my sleeves once or twice, I was barely hindered by the rain. Except for the giant puddles I had to dodge...and sometimes fail at dodging...oops. It kind of reminded me of the Urbanathlon my sister-in-law Laura suggested we all run next year - I was jumping over obstacles and avoiding holes and puddles. At one point I passed a parked car and considered practicing my running over taxis right then.

But I decided against it. After a long debate regarding the pros and cons of jumping on and running over the parked car, I realized I'd already run past it, so it wasn't possible anymore, anyway. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow.

Moral of the Story: Go find a rainy day to enjoy, and bring Joshua Radin along for the party. You'll be smiling before you know it!