doahleigh - Holy Waste of Teabags!

I’ve been holding this in for a long time because I have this weird superstition that if I talk about things, they don’t work out. And that goes for writing about them too, apparently. The more I blab about how excited I am, the more likely that things will crash and burn. And the more disappointed I am. So mum’s the word, as the cliche-masters say.

But now that things are officially official, I can tell it to the world: I HAVE A JOB!!

See, I’m an AmeriCorps*VISTA, which means I’m basically a full-time volunteer. Have been for two years, serving at a community college as a Service Learning Program Coordinator. My second year is due to end in mid-July, and I was toiling over what to do next.

Brad and I were ready to bail on Jackson and do something different, maybe even move out of state. But then a little bird told me (oh god, another cliche) that they’d like to create a full-time position for someone to do exactly what I was doing as a VISTA. And? They wanted me to do it.

Well things got in the way. Budget, boards of directors, unions, political mumbo jumbo. There were a million reasons that this shouldn’t work out, number one being that there just isn’t enough money for a full-time position. I was made to rest on pins and needles (ugh, another one) for the last three and a half months, never really knowing what was going on.

Finally in early June they posted the position and I applied. Legally they have to open it up to the world, so I was potentially competing with a zillion other people for a job I knew like the back of my hand (which I don’t know at all, so what a dumb cliche that is). Last week I interviewed for the job, which was very awkward since I’m friends with those asking the questions. But it went well, and I believe I passed with flying colors (please make it stop).

I waited the whole weekend in anticipation, and on Tuesday I got the magic call. They officially offered me the job and I officially accepted. So I’ll be staying in Jackson for awhile, which is really weird to me. I came here two years ago thinking I’d just get through it for a year while I did my AmeriCorps service, and then I was out. Now I have a life here. In Jackson. How the hell did that happen?

Also, I have more news. I know, it just keeps getting better right? You’ve all followed me along on the apartment search, which was little more than a giant headache, and finally I’m happy to report: WE HAVE AN APARTMENT!!

Remember the one we really liked and almost put nonrefundable money down for? Well we still really liked it, so we called on a whim to see if it was maybe still available. Can ya guess what we were told?

Yep you’re right. Somebody had signed a lease, but lost his job before he moved in, so it was open! How’d you know? We went there the same day, looked at it again, and wrote a check to hold the place. We have to sign the lease by July 7, but we don’t have to move in or start paying until later in July when I start the job for real.

Tell me, oh wise renters of the world, is it silly to sign a lease before I start the job? What if my luck turns and they pull the money and throw me out on the streets? I feel like sometimes things just happen this way…you sign the lease before you get your first paycheck…but maybe I’m just being naive. Advice?

I have some other things I should probably share first, but camping was so much fun that I can’t gloss over it. It’s worthy of picture-sharing I think. So here are my sisters and me in front of our circus tent. We packed so much more than we needed–more food, more gear, more crap than anyone needs to camp at a roadside campground.

Abundance is fun though, right? We set everything up before the rest of the family got there because we figured the kids would need a place to run around in their boredom. And what better place than a tent the size of a house? I have to say though, at least we weren’t staying in something like the RV that was parked next to us.

Of course I failed to get a decent picture of it, but you can get a glimpse of its front third in this picture. It was obscenely large, and I wondered why those millionaires didn’t just buy a summer home in Venice. Oh, that’s my brother, his fiance Brandy, and my to-die-for nephew Kyron by the way.

Anyway, we hit the beach for awhile and made some campfire dinner, but it didn’t take long for everyone to get restless. Except me. I was content reading my book for hours, but everyone else wanted to go on a dune ride. So we did. I’ve done it a few times before and was never really thrilled, so 15 bucks seemed like a lot to ride around in the sand. But seeing the thrill in my niece and nephew’s eyes was worth 15 million!

Later that night, while we all slept peacefully in our nylon barn, it started to drizzle. By the time we woke up in a panic to move everything to shelter, it was full out raining. And when we finally decided to skip the cold poptarts and go out to breakfast, it started to pour.

We wanted to wait it out because we had paid for two nights, so we drove around the lakeshore, eventually stopping at a lighthouse. I hate being partially wet (either fully submerge me or keep me dry), so I read in the car while everyone else ran around the wet sand.

Eventually we thought we’d tour the lighthouse, so I went to wait with the crowd. In the rain. I must have bitched too much about getting wet because karma bit me in the ass when the doors opened and the tourguides announced it cost $2.

Not a single person in our group had money. I got wet for nothing. Except I did get to watch Josh and Kyron strip down to their drawers and test out the water in frigid conditions. Don’t you just want to dip that little boy in barbeque sauce and eat him!

So after our rejection at the lighthouse, we drove back to camp and made a snap decision to pack it up and head home. As much as we liked camping, I’ve learned that it’s much more fun to take a three hour community nap on big fluffy couches than it is to sit around a campfire in the rain.

Here’s the rest of the set, including a beautiful shot of my niece who you’ll want to dip in honey and gobble up!

1. A family of turkeys next to the road. There were two adults (mom and dad?) and about 10 babies. Is there a name for baby turkeys? I looked it up and I have two different sources telling me different things. Either they’re called chicks or they’re called poults. What do you think?

(Not the turkeys I saw)

2. A sandhill crane. Or so I think. I see these birds near the college a lot, especially when I drive to and from work. I call them sandhill cranes, but I guess I don’t know what they are for sure. Google Images shows them with distinct red markings on their heads, which is what I saw today. I got a good look at the red head because it was about 12 inches from the hood of my car.

  
(Not the crane I saw)

3. A near accident at a construction area. Actually it wasn’t even construction, just a few orange cones in the road to keep cars from hitting the innocent employees of the energy company. Apparently cones in the road proved to be too much for one driver who almost hit another car head on while trying to maneveur around them.

4. A very peculiar man running down the side of the road. I’ve seen this same man a few other times on my commute to and from work. He’s always in about the same spot, and he’s always running. Know what else he’s always doing? Carrying a purple and gold Crown Royal bag. And he runs with his arms at his side, like a girl does when she’s trying to hold her skirt down. Why is he always running? Why is he running like that? Where is he going? Why the Crown Royal?

(Not the Crown Royal the weird guy was holding)

Well kiddos, I’m off to the woods for a few days of sleeping on the ground, warding off pesky insects and eating nothing but roasted hotdogs and s’mores, all while building up a nice layer of my very own grime. It’s camping time y’all!

What started as a long-weekend trip for me and my three sisters has turned into nine people crammed into one tent. Even though the tent is called a “ten-person” I think they mean “you can fit ten people in here if you don’t mind sleeping with your heads up each other’s asses.” Good thing we’re a cozy family.

My brother, his fiance and their kids are joining us the first night, as well as our mother. I can’t wait to see who snores, talks, walks and farts in their sleep. Maybe all at the same time. And can’t you just picture us trying to entertain each other all day without a tv in sight?

Actually, I’m really excited about this camping trip. I love hanging out with my family, and we haven’t all camped together since we were wee ones. Maybe it’ll become a family tradition. I hope so.

I work in a ghost town. Or so it feels. Even though I’m not faculty, my office is in the same area as a bunch of English instructors. It’s summer, and as many people know, if you’re college faculty you work as little as possible during the summer. Hence, the ghost town feel. Every single office door is closed except mine. Even the department secretary is gone today, and so are both of her student workers. My officemate? Gone today as well. I’m starting to wonder if the world ended and I wasn’t notified. Maybe I really am surrounded by ghosts. No seriously, did the world end?

Yesterday, for awhile, the weather around here suggested that it might. Tornado warnings, torrential rain, thunder and lightning. I had to venture out mid-storm to volunteer downtown, but by the time I got home, it had passed and everyone seemed to have survived. To celebrate survival, B and I went for pizza, where we were pleasantly surprised to find out that one of our favorite pizza places considered us ‘regulars’ and even gave us a free drink for being such. Yay for eating out all the time! Eventually you get free stuff.

After pizza we went to the mall to visit a bookstore. However, before we got out of the car, we noticed a couple nearby, tightly embraced in each other’s arms. Fortunately, Brad is just as much of a voyeur* as I am, so he suggested we sit and observe for a minute. We watched discreetly, hiding our faces behind sunglasses and cell phones, as the two lovers cuddled and giggled and locked lips without stop for longer than we could stand to sit there. I guess they got stuck together or something (a mishap with super glue?) because they stayed latched to each for at least the 20 minutes we watched them. It was incredible.

Wait, did I just admit that we had nothing better to do than sit in a car for 20 minutes and stare at a strange couple while they hugged and swayed and made out? We spent more time doing that than we did in the bookstore when we finally went in. I think we were just fascinated by how they kept their arms from cramping up or falling asleep. I told Brad we should hug and see how long we could hold it, but we both knew we’d get antsy after only a few minutes, so we settled for a brief makeout session and moved along.

*I just looked up the actual defintion of that word and found: a person who derives sexual gratification from observing the naked bodies or sexual acts of others, especially from a secret vantage point. Even though I don’t think that accurately describes us normally, it’s pretty appropriate for this occassion.

One of Brad’s (male) friends moved back from Milwaukee recently, and is working at the same place as him. It’s a small company, so they hang out, talk and eat together nearly every day. Everytime I ask Brad what he did for lunch, his response includes some reference to food and the name of his friend. McDonald’s with Friend. Wendy’s with Friend. Friend and I went to Subway.

When Brad was taking classes at the college where I work, he would occassionally have lunch with me. He rarely has time for that anymore, so now I find myself a little jealous of this Friend. He gets to hang out with my boy all day, while I hardly get to talk to him until evening. It was starting to feel like Brad had another girlfriend, and I couldn’t believe I was jealous. Surely Brad would think I was ridiculous if he knew I felt like he was courting his (male) friend. But before I had the chance to tell him how I felt, we had this conversation:

B: [something, something, details aren't important]
S: What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.
B: Uh huh, didn’t I tell you about that?
S: No.
B: Oh I must have told Friend…my other girlfriend.

Isn’t it cute? They’re dating! Just kidding guys, I’m sure you drink beer and watch sports and try to out-fart each other everytime you have lunch. I’m definitely not jealous of that.

We’ve put the apartment search on hold. This weekend we found ourselves almost putting money down to hold a place we both loved, and we’re not even entirely sure that we’re both staying in Jackson right now. We’re not sure how much money each of us will be making this fall, and we’re not sure we even want an apartment. Yet we were inches away from handing over nonrefundable dollars! That’s when we knew we had gotten in too deep, too fast.

So we’re taking a break. And by break I mean that we still talk about it constantly and can’t stop thinking about it, but we’re not making any decisions until we know more about a secret element that I can’t mention just yet.

We’re considering all kinds of options now, trying to do what’s best for us financially and emotionally. What about buying a house? Maybe we should live seperately? Could we cram into a studio? And all that has only complicated the issue, making it impossible for us to even think straight anymore. When you’re swerving all over your brain, you can’t be expected to make important decisions, especially those involving money and shelter. Which is why the search is officially halted.

After all, you can’t really search when you don’t know what you’re searching for.

There’s a lot I could talk about from this weekend, but first I need to get some wedding pictures from last weekend up here before they’re too far outdated. Here’s just a sampling, and the rest can be found at our flickr site.

This is what the wedding looked like. Bride and groom stood at the top of a waterfall that lead to a pond full of ducks! The wedding party stood on the hill, and the guests were across the pond. It was pretty.

Here’s me and Brad at the reception. Please ignore the sunburn that I received at rehearsal. I forgot I was on medicine that advised avoiding prolonged and excessive sun exposure. Oops!

This is Brad and Robin’s date, Nick. I believe they’re dancing to Thriller, but I’m not sure what you call these moves.

The bouquet toss of course. That’s Robin on the left, the one desperately reaching for the oncoming flowers. A second after this shot was taken, she tackled the girls behind us and came up victorious. That’s me next to her, only pretending to be interested in the bouquet.

I’m thinking about starting a new trend. Brad was helping me take down my bobby-pinned and hairsprayed mess. This is mid Operation: Take Down the Updo.

And here’s the whole wedding party. That’s Mark and Bonny in the middle. I’m the face sticking in from the left. Some of the boys are cut off by a tree branch, but they’re not that important anyway.

Congratulations you crazy lovebirds!

This weekend I was dogsitting. Which is weird since I’m really not fond of domestic animals in any form. Pets are not my thing, but it was for my boss, and she gave me a little cash for my time. Even though I stayed at her house, I wasn’t really housesitting, I was defintiely dogsitting. The dog required much more work than the house. What with the food, the water, the pills, the letting him out all the time. I’m sorry to say we did not become best friends this weekend.

I’m sure it didn’t help that he could sense my indifference. He really didn’t like me. He wouldn’t go outside for me, no matter how much excitement I feigned at the idea of peeing in the great outdoors. When I would pet him, he didn’t acknowledge me, choosing instead to stare at the wall, which was most certainly more interesting than this hideous stranger invading his home. If it weren’t for Brad, I think the dog might have laid in the same spot all weekend, forgoing all food and bathroom breaks, in protest of my presence. Even though Brad’s not a huge fan either, he did a better job of faking it because the dog actually went outside when Brad suggested it. He also followed Brad around, preferring to lay at his feet, whereas he stayed as far away from me as possible.

Brad even cleaned up the puke we found on our first day there. Me and animal vomit do not get along, so even though it’s obviously not Brad’s favorite thing (is it anybody’s? I surely hope not), he cleaned up the mess while I gagged in the bathroom at the mere thought of regurgitated dog food. Are you vomitting with me people?

I did my best to make him comfortable because it’s not his fault his mom left for a few days and I was her inadequate replacement. But if ever I suggest I might want a dog someday, remind me that this is just one of many instances where I just can’t conjure up any real affection for animals.

Everyone: I am losing my hair. I’ve never really loved my hair, but I didn’t mean my scalp had to get rid of it entirely. Yet that’s what it’s doing, shedding strands in scary quantities, and I don’t know why.

I always lose a lot of hair in the shower when I’m rinsing out the shampoo and conditioner. It gets tangled into webs between my fingers and I find it stuck on my arms and hidden in certain..uh..crevices. I usually paste the displaced hair to the shower wall and clean up when I’m done.

But yesterday, everytime I touched my head, wet or dry, I was pulling out hair in clumps. More than I’ve ever lost at one time. I was scared to brush it because what if it all came out in one giant wad and I’m left bald? I am no Natalie Portman, I could never pull off this look.

Brad suggested stress, but what am I stressed about? Yes, finding an apartment is not my favorite thing in the world, yes I’ve been waiting for two months on some important news that will determine my near future, and yes my boyfriend makes me intentionally pull my hair out once in awhile. But I don’t actually feel any more stressed than usual. Could it all be subconcious? Is my brain telling my scalp to loosen up, because who needs hair at a time like this, without me knowing it?

Stop Brain! We’re fine really. Go ahead and tell Head that everything’s alright and we do in fact enjoy having Hair around. Let’s tighten up those follicles, hey? Really! I’m happy!

I didn’t realize apartment searching would cause such a pain in my figurative ass. It’s only been a week and already the ass has required a couple ice packs and a heating pad. Maybe I should try figurative IcyHot.

We looked at another place yesterday, and given our current income, we could get a two-bedroom apartment for $100 less than we’d pay for a one-bedroom at any other place we’ve seen. And the apartments are just as nice, in my opinion. Brad has other thoughts. The neighborhood wasn’t right, and he got a bad impression of the residents.

We both agreed we need to look around some more, but I’m already discouraged. I’m overwhelmed by the options and the simultaneous lack of realistic options. Given both our criteria…mine of spending as little money as possible and his of having the best place possible…I’m wondering if we’ll ever find a place we can both be happy in. Heaven help us if we ever decide to buy a house together!

I don’t get people who back into parking spots. Why the back in? Does it save you any time in the long run? Isn’t it much faster to back out, when you’re not trying to place yourself perfectly between two painted lines?

Today when I pulled into work, I was blocked from a parking place because some jackass was taking his time backing into the one next to it. After he got out of my way, I quickly swung into my spot, grabbed my purse and headed for the office while he was still finagling to get his car parallel to the lines. By the time I reached the door, he was still adjusting, in and out of the spot, trying to line it up just right. Look how much time he wasted. Wouldn’t it have been easier to be like normal people who pull into spots, then back out when they leave?

Know what I think it is? I think people just like to show off their “reverse skills” to anyone paying attention. They back it in whenever possible. Look at me, I can drive in reverse. I can back into this spot and not scratch the cars next to me. Hey, hey you. Are you watching? I’m backing in here!

I’m so glad I’m not related to, friends with or dating any backer-inners. If I am and I don’t know it, maybe it’s time to reevaluate our relationship, eh?

What is the worst sound in the world?
The sound of silence when you turn the key in the ignition of your car.

The best sound in the world?
The rrrgggatttattvrroom sound when your car starts.

We drove all the way to Grand Rapids for the wedding I was in (more on that later when I upload some pictures) this weekend. On Saturday, while I helped set up and got all pretty, Brad hung out downtown with friends. He called me a couple hours before the wedding and said Greta (my car) didn’t start for some reason, but Scott (his friend) moved some fuses around or something and she was up and running.

We got through the wedding and were well into the reception (all at the same location) when Brad decided he was cold and was going to run and get something warmer. This required him to drive in the car. Five minutes later he was back, reporting that Greta failed again. She wouldn’t start.

I had a small fit, gathered somebody else’s wits about me (mine were long gone), and took action. Meaning, I sat and watched while Brad moved fuses around again. Nothing. So we borrowed Robin (my friend)’s car and drove what felt like 1,000 miles to the nearest open store. Meijer didn’t have what we thought we needed, so we bought more fuses, drove 1,000 miles back, and tried again. After blowing fuse after fuse, finally Greta decided she had one more run in her. She started up (glorious sound!), and we immediately jumped in and drove to my sister’s house, where we were staying.

And we slept on it. We slept hard, and we slept late. And it wasn’t until we started packing up that we remembered my car was broken. But we packed anyway and loaded her up. Wishful thinking at its best. And guess what! It worked!

Wait no it didn’t. It didn’t start. Fuses were moved around again, I pretended to be helpful, and still. Silence. So I made some phone calls. To my sister, my other sister, my other sister, my brother, my friends. Nobody answered, and we started to envision ourselves making a home in the non-functioning Greta because surely we were never getting back to Jackson. Eventually we got ahold of a couple people, and it was Brad’s friend Scott and his girlfriend who rescued us. Scott knows a little something about cars, so he brought a hammer and whacked at my starter. Yes whacked. With a hammer.

But you know, after a few tries, we heard the glorious sound of a car starting up. And we rejoiced. Fell to the ground and kissed the ground that Greta parked on. Except not really, we just jumped in the car and drove to the nearest gas station.

Yes that’s right, we had to turn the car off again because even though we wanted to get home, we didn’t want to get blown up first. But, miraculously, she started again and we didn’t turn her off again until we were safely in Jackson.

But wait, it’s not done. We drove it to Scott’s parent’s house, where he was going to be that night, turned it off, and then it wouldn’t start up again. Dr Scott diagnosed the starter as the problem, so he did emergency surgery, removing the vital starter for a possible transplant. Brad assisted.

Then we drove to AutoZone, where theytested the starter and deemed it functioning. Now we had no direction and no diagnosis. Brad was on the phone again, and Scott said buy it anyway, he thinks it’s the solenoid (yeah I’ve never heard of it either), which is attached to the starter. So $140.00 later we’re back in the driveway, the boys are under the car, and greasy car parts are flying. Thankfully, Megan distracted me so I didn’t worry too much, and in no time, they had crawled out and announced the transplant was a success.

Brad turned the key nine times in a row, and every time, I heard the beautiful sound of a car starting. Thanks to a lot of helpful people, the whole situation was so much less painful than I imagined it would be when Brad first told me Greta was dying. So…

Thank you Brad for keeping me calm and for helping me through the whole situation, and for assisting Scott on Greta’s operation.
Thank you Megan for distracting me.
Thank you Robin for letting us borrow your car and for offering to come help us.
Thank you Dad and Des for offering to help, sorry we couldn’t visit.
Thank you Andrea for at least calling when you could to make sure we were okay.
Thank you Kevin for letting us borrow your truck.
Thank you Peggy for the ice cream.
Thank you Frank from AutoZone for agreeing to sell us the new part even though we thought we might be returning it.
And thank you Scott for helping your friend’s girlfriend out, for saving me money and lots of stress. You totally saved me and my car! How can I ever return the favor?

Well, we did it. We looked at our first apartment. And we walked away with a big fat NO hanging from our mouths. The place is brand new, so they pulled out all the stops. A pool, a fitness center, a bark park, a clubhouse. I’m looking for a place to live, not a vacation resort, thank you.

The apartments weren’t even that great. Yes they had all right amenities: dishwasher, laundry room, garbage disposal (thanks Jen), central air. But they didn’t offer covered parking. Oh no, they want you to rent a garage for $40 a month ($60 if you want the luxury of the fucking garage door opener). I’d rather fight over a parking space under an aluminum roof than pay that much for a garage.

They also charge you to rent extra storage space. And that’s all on top of the $660 rent we’d have to pay for the sin of making over $28,000 a year combined (which we don’t right now, but hopefully will in a few months). Besides, the apartments are small, and worse…they’ve got white walls and beige carpet. What is with the white walls and beige carpet that are suffocating modern apartments?

It’s just not the atmosphere we’re looking for. I want something more cozy. Something not so community-ish, not so we-threw-these-suckers-up-in-just-a-few-weeks-so-we-could-move-people-in-and-start-making-money. Ish.

Anyway, we got off to a bad start, but that means it can only get better right? No seriously, am I right? Or am I crazy? Because you really need to tell me if I’m crazy here. Is it reasonable to expect to find a comfortable apartment in mid-Michigan for less than $600 that maybe includes a few of the luxuries we crave?

Or should I start getting used to the idea of licking my plates clean and watching Brad sweat his balls off?*

*Someone’s definitely finding this site with a “licking balls” google search

This morning I hated the world for creating an 8 to 5 work schedule. I hated the world for making me get up from my cozy bed just to drag myself into a windowless office and sit at a desk for eight hours. I did it though, I got up just like I do everyday. But just to make sure I wasn’t the only one suffering, I bugged B as much as I could.

I imitated the crawling of a bug on his face with my mascara tube. I tickled his feet, which he hates even when he’s wide awake. I woke him up when the local news announced the new IKEA store opening in Detroit. And as I do everyday before I leave the room, I reminded him not to sleep in too late today. I’m such a nag.

In an abrupt change of topic, I’m proud to say we’ve started the process of looking for apartments. I’m done as a VISTA in mid-July, but there’s a good possibility we’ll be staying in Jackson. However, that means that we need a new place to live because the current place is just a perk of being a full-time volunteer. We recently decided it was time to start seeing what was out there. And we’ve learned two very important things from this experience:

1) we are spoiled babies
2) we are too poor to be spoiled babies

When I started thinking about what I couldn’t live without I came up the miracle of the dishwasher. I will eventually lose my mind, run away and join a satanic cult if I don’t have the luxury of putting my dirty dishes into a magical machine and having them come out clean. How did people live before this magical machine was invented? I do not know, and I’m not ready to find out. Actually, I guess I mean I’m not ready to remember. I grew up without a dishwasher. As in I was the dishwasher, that was my daily chore in the house for a long time. So I’ve come to hate washing dishes with a deep, dark passion. I even hate it more than I hate Katharine.

I also must insist on an accessible washer and dryer. Not necessarily in the apartment, but at least on the property. If I have to drive to the laundromat, I assure you I’ll be wearing stinky clothes for the next 12 months. Walk to the on-site laundry room? Sure. Drive to the laundromat? I’d rather smell.

And finally, there’s Brad’s “must have” amenity, air conditioning. Believe it or not, I could live without this if I had to. I’ve done it before many times, and I’ll do it again to save a buck. But he’s like a polar bear in Jamaica when he doesn’t have air conditioning in the summer. He’s miserable at our place right now, what with the no AC and the fans that do nothing but blow the hot air around.

So here we are, a couple of poor spoiled babies, refusing to live without our luxuries but confused about how we’ll pay for them. Oh did I mention we can’t live without high-speed wireless internet either?