And Wait Some More

  

The more things change the more they stay the same?

This time of year often reminds me of how little has changed. Like ever.

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.

(Ecclesiastes 1:9)

Do you have milestone dates that remind you of things?

Things that have happened.

Things that have not happened.

Things you have.

Things you don’t have.

Things you are.

Things you are not.

A holiday, a birthday, an anniversary of something perhaps. Maybe a season.

I have been through a year of changes and yet I find myself feeling like I’m on the proverbial hamster wheel. Maybe we painted it a different color, but it still goes around and around and around, back to the same familiar place.

I suppose some hamsters would find comfort and contentment in that familiarity.

Me? I’m bored.

As your local resident change agent, I try to do something different when I sense I'm beating my head against a wall. You know, that brick one I keep staring at.

Today, for example, after throwing down some stellar improv poetry in response to a photo of a curious statue of the Virgin Mary sent by a friend, I went in search of an empanada. I’ve been thinking of empanadas on and off for days. Why, what have you been thinking about?

They were delicious. The empanadas and my words.

And lest I offend loved ones of some faith traditions, those particular words are available only privately by request.

I’ve since set up shop at a Starbucks with my venti unsweet iced green tea. And it hit me. Regarding the current political controversy about who uses which bathroom, do you want to know the biggest fallout from this whole situation? Other than we have spent waaaayyy too much time as a nation discussing our potty habits. I believe that all humans are endowed with the unalienable right to, um, relieve themselves under the most sanitary conditions possible. That may be a hole in the ground in some areas, God bless y'all, but in most places you’ll find me, this means indoor plumbing. I don’t care what gender you consider yourself, everyone needs to go. Use the stall next to me at Target, I don’t care.

There’s a problem, though.

The transgender bathroom controversy has resulted in most Starbucks locations converting their one-seater restrooms to unisex. Now, I’ve been in my share of gross ladies rooms, but as a general rule … well. Um. Here’s the thing.

Men, would you please freaking aim.

Ew.

Ugh.

If I suddenly keel over, have the medics wear hazmat suits and make sure I’m tested for cooties and infectious diseases.

Also, LMH doesn’t accept my insurance, so THE Ohio State University, please.

Anyway.

In my ongoing quest to stimulate creative thought and alleviate boredom, I had arts and crafts time today.

Okay, really I was kinesio taping myself. A person who shall remain unnamed thinks the paper backing looks like it belongs on feminine products. I say “whatever” and throw them at said person.

For someone who is sooooo totally not a fan of bathroom humor, I seem to be on a roll today. And speaking of rolls. Ha. I’m a girl who gets things done. I just am. Project manager. Production assistant. Engineer. Pragmatic individual. So if I note a bathroom needs restocked and I have the means to take care of such a deficiency on a shopping trip I was taking anyway, cool. But if I get locked out of that bathroom … well … honestly I’m about to burn this thing in effigy.

I know, it seems like a waste.

Ha, waste.

But at least today is lovely and mild and sunny enough for puppies to catch some rays.

Keep looking up.

No seriously, keep looking up.

  

I am on the sinking sand

And the storm is close at hand

And all my anxious fear and worry they surround me

Like a flood the hurt rushes in

I am on the troubled sea

The restless waves underneath my feet

Though the waters rise around me

And my faith it sinks within me

I’m not too far from mercy’s reach

When my hope’s a dying ember

Won’t you remind me so I remember

O rock eternal

O God of ages

Your name is higher than songs can sing

Through every struggle, the trials and changes

Thy glory guide me in perfect peace

~ Erik Nieder's “O Rock Eternal”

Waiting, Waiting, Waiting

Yeah, yeah, I haven’t posted in a while. I wasn't really planning to wait that long. A friend mentioned she missed my writing … apparently y’all need to hear my voice.

All five of you. You rock.

It’s not like I’ve been laying around doing nothing. I’ve been looking after people. Spending time being on call to look after people. Learning. Teaching. Networking. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Oh how I despise waiting.

Elephant butts. I’ve been staring at elephant butts. Well okay, that was just one evening.

What I mean by waiting is I’ve been doing plenty, but I feel like I’m spinning my wheels. My plan for the day frequently changes. It makes life interesting, but I still harbor guilt for what gets left undone. There’s so much on the list. And it’s been on the list for a while. In some areas I swear I’m talking to a brick wall sometimes. Or to, you know … see the above pic.

J

Go ahead. Say it. You know you wanna.

Me. Waiting.

 On a positive note, we’ve had the mildest, unsnowiest winter in recent memory.

With a wee bit of caution, travel during our five minutes of winter weather was fine.

Even the unsnowy days feel like this sometimes, though.

Or this.

Lest you think I’ve been neglecting the self-care that I preach so often, I’m on it. I joined a gym. After a few months in my downsized environment it was clear a new exercise routine wasn’t happening. So I promptly broke a toe – walking past a piece of exercise equipment actually. And then a couple months later I joined a gym.

“Do you need to check with your doctor before starting?”

“No, they’ll all be ecstatic.”

It’s a fine line, though, between helps-my-health-issues and aggravates-my-health-issues-dang-it. Dealing with it already. Working on it.

I’ve been working my way through Mere Christianity. It shouldn’t be this hard, but it keeps moving down the list in favor of must-do reading. Still, I try to get through a couple chapters each week at least.

My favorite yogurt cup in the whole wide world. Village Coffee in Granville, Ohio.

And while we’re on the subject of food, I make the best crème brulee on the planet because it’s dark chocolate, but this is really close …

Straight up and completely beautiful. Granville Inn.

I feel a pedicure coming on in the next couple of weeks. I’ve been letting my nails go bare in winter, which, gasp, when it’s been warm enough to wear flip flops occasionally has become a dilemma not unlike leaving the house without makeup. Well, not that much of a dilemma. I do it anyway. And I show up at the gym without makeup. I’m not there for the dating possibilities.

But anyway. My birthday is in a couple weeks, so self-care and sparkling are high on my list. As are concerts. I’ve committed to one of these Mitch concerts so far, two others are definite possibilities, and if anyone wants to road trip to Indy for March 2 … seriously, get with me.

Not my pic, but you probably knew that. 

March 3 I’ll miss, as I have a hot date with my future husband, Michael Tait.

J

Or more like I’m volunteering with ChildFund that night because I know their speaker who’s on the tour. And because, you know, child sponsorship.

I’ve been making an effort to post more often on social media, because, um, some of you, especially Mark Zuckerburg (I don’t care who liked what! I don’t!), are boring me. Sorry not sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I long for original content. I looooong for it. Like I’m longing for a yogurt cup with berries and granola right now. And others of you – I’m concerned about your blood pressure and mental health. Take a deep breath and contemplate the universe.

It’ll be fine.

Keep looking up.

God bless America. 

Keep looking up.