Chikenz fa life, dawg.

December 5 Night out. Did you have a night out with friends or a loved one that rocked your world? Who was there? What was the highlight of the night?

Have you ever found your people? Like one day it hits you and you don't speak up. You just kinda observe the folks around your little circle and chuckle to yourself and think, "Whoa. I think these are my people."

That actually happened to me this summer in Harrisonburg, VA. I had gone to a city council meeting to see old people fight against a motion to allow laying hens in backyards. It was an interesting meeting. I learned that day that goverment and its processes can change in a heartbeat and usually when most of the audience thinks the meeting is done and they all head for the exit.

Anyway after the meeting, I was invited by some of the pro-chicken folks to go out for an after dinner drink downtown. And as everyone was hanging out, telling stories, and buying rounds of drinks (which I didn't partake, because I was 'on the clock') I had this feeling of being part of this group. And it was good.

Books Y'all

12/4 Books! What books touched you? Did you pass it onto your friends?

When You are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris

Complete hilarity. The hard part of reading Sedaris' books is that once I finish one, I move onto a new book by a different author and have Sedaris' tone and snarky sense of humor running through my head right when I'm reading. It's hard to get over, but Sedaris is the only author that pulls that shenanigan in my noodle.

Yes we have no bananas.

12/3 Article. What's one article that blew you away this year? That you shared with all your friends.
I'm not really sure I have an article out there that blew me away. I do have this one article that I use for work. It's about bananas and how they're so common place in American households, but really they're quite exotic and we're not paying the full price for them. My volunteers really dig that article. So should you. Ok. I just looked for the thing online and could only find Mr. Koeppel's banana blog. I am suggesting this blog as a entryway to the article. This blog recommendation will not interfere with 12/7's entry!


www.bigparadela.com/wordpress

2009 Cont'd.

2. Restaurant moment. Who was there? What made it amazing? What taste stands out in your mind?

When I think about 2009 I think about The Happy Elephant. It's a lil Thai place down the street from my apt. The staff kinda know my order by heart. Panang Curry. Tofu. Medium spice. Cucumber salad please. Thai-iced tea. Sticky rice and mangoes. This place is amazing because Gary & Ning (the owners) work quite hard 6 days a week, Gary delivers food and runs the front of the house and Ning is a strong leader in the kitchen!

Best of 2009.

It's time for the best of 2009 blog posts. I'll be writing everyday until 12/31. Let's go, K?
12/1: What was your best trip in 2009?
This one's a bit of a toughy for me. In preparation for this post, I re-read my 2009 calendar and it turns out I don't travel outside of work. I was on the road for work for about 15 weeks this year. And all those other weeks, I was pretty much at home and quite content. I'd have to say the best time I had while traveling was when I was in Harrisonburg, Virginia and B___ and I went out for super spicy Indian food and then had dessert at Cally's. That was quite a nice night!

Tuesday in November

I went to prison last weel. Not to worry, they let me out. I did get to visit with T___ my deathrow penpal. I visited with him for over 2 hours face to face last Tuesday.

Highlights include:Not finding the prison right away and having to ask the gas station clerk:

"Um, can you point me towards the prison?"

Clerk: "Um, did you do something bad?"

Me: "Not yet."

Clerk: "Southside of town up next to the Wal-Mart."

Me: "Wow. Thanks."

Another obvious highlight:Getting to meet T___. There are some many things and conversations and feelings and preconceived notions to describe.

Chains. Heavy chains around his waist, arms, legs, and feet, all are tethered to the floor and table.

The actual prison. Totally stuck in 1970. Actuals signs posted in The Condemned Visitation Room: Do Not Peel Paint Off Walls. The actual buildings are in a poor state at first glance as well.

The games cupboard. Did you know that visitation rooms have a cupboard of games? I surely didn't. I never knew they existed. I saw trivial pursuit, skipbo, chess, backgammon, and cribbage in there. T___ and I played palace and at least 20 games of Rummy. Sad to say I didn't win one game. And I wasn't even letting him win.

So will you try it out and get one yourself?

http://www.brethren.org/site/PageServer?pagename=witness_issues_drsp

And some stats for you to ponder?

http://www.prisonpolicy.org/prisonindex/deathpenalty.html

You can figure it out.

Writing about old jobs is lame today. Maybe I'll just write my job title and you can imagine my job.
2000-Blossom Basket-Flower delivery girl Live-in caretaker for one old dude living with a stroke.
2001-Group home worker again in St. Joseph, IL during and after the U of I.
2001-Temp jobs: X-ray file delivery girl in the Carle Hospital, 6pm-6am conveyor belt watcher: Quality control for air filter production.
2002-Moved to Phoenix. ESL assistant 7:30-3. Line cook and beer bitch 5-midnight at Greasewood Flat www.greasewoodflat.net
2003-2006 Nigeria
2006 Classroom assistant at a special ed day school! Hello adult sized diapers.
2007 You probably can guess my current job.

Moving Right Along

Ok back to 1999.
In 99' I also worked in a couple group homes in a nearby town. The homes were owned by the same company and had 3-6 developmentally disabled adults in each place. I don't have too many specific memories from this part of work. I worked mostly nights and went to school during the day. In early 99', I also worked as a part time sports write for the Iowa Falls newspaper. The editor sent me out to small towns to take pictures of high school basketball teams. It was probably most unique job in how I was paid. For every inch of text that 'made' it into the paper, I was paid $4. As you can imagine, every game was a battle of epic proportions. I would submit long flowy write-ups of Iowa cornboys and receive about $15 for 4 hours of work. And my editor even had an editory name: Rex Trout. (He wouldn't have accepted that sentence because it began with 'And.')

2000
Well it's winter time in Champaign-Urbana. I transferred here after Iowa Falls. My first job is working as a sorter for FedEx. And this job blows. My shift is M-Th 6pm-11:30pm. Why does it blow? 1. Getting patted down before and after work to make sure no one stole anything from the precious 1000s of boxes sorted in a shift. 2.The women I work with are rough. Rough in a way that mean I don't go into the Ladies' room because of the fights that take place in there. 3. The lack of heat. Management said that heating and cooling wasn't necessary because the 100,000sf building generated enough heat from running the quarter-mile long conveyor belts. I'm actually that worker who wears long underwear and a dirty hat and a pair of gloves with the fingertips cut off. My specific job is to run up a long slick slide and kick at boxes stuck in the chute for my division. I also have expertise in crawling on moving conveyor belts to dislodge boxes that are backing up the entire belt system. Wednesday is magazine day and it's the heaviest day of box traffic. When I'm not scrambling to unstick stuck boxes, I scan in every box's barcode. From memorizing zip codes I can tell you that zip codes beginning in 0 originate from the East Coast.

A brief history.

Well my little friends, it's time again for another blog post. It's a rainy Tuesday afternoon here in northern Illinois, and I'm glad I have a job inside. Even though I'm 30, I've worked in a bunch of different workplaces. Let's take a trip back to 1994 through 2007!

1994
I'm a corn-detassler! I walk through rows and rows of corn a foot taller than me and pull out every tassle I see. Mom drops me off at school around 4:45am with a red and white cooler full of food to last me through 2 breaks and lunch. The season of detassling is about 3 weeks long. The inexperienced kids in my crew wear garbage bags in the early morning. The seasoned ones wear spiffy blue rain slickers to combat the wet corn and sharp edges of the corn leaves.

1995
Corn detassler! See above! My biggest fear this year is that I'll die in a droughted cornfield, because the older kids feel the need to smoke cigarettes and detassle at the same time. Miraculously the corn gets done and the fields are still standing.

1996
I'm a babysitter! Every morning 7:30-3pm I get picked up and driven into the country to babysit for 2 kids. Nothing so memorable about this job except: 1. The littler of the two kids only falls asleep to Field of Dreams. I love this movie. 2.The mom who drives me to work and home has a broken thumb and can't drive safely with this disability. This job taught me to appreciate my thumbs.

1997
I finished high school in May and moved to Alabama for a month and a half to live with my Dad while he was starting his new job, while my Mom packed the house in Milledgeville. Highlights from 1997 include: Taking golfing lessons in Arab (pronounced A-rab), AL, finding a slow-pitch softball team to play on called the Bronze Bodies. I hadn't met the criteria of a bronze body, but I was allowed to play. The team also never cared to ask my real name, and preferred to called me Yankee. It even said Yankee on the batting line-up in the dugout.
Once I got to college, I found that I could tutor the international students in English skills. So my first semester I had a Japanese student I tutored.

1998
Holy cow I'm a photographer for the Iowa Falls Rugby team. How in the world did this noble honor fall into my hands? Well, my college softball coach is on the team and he mentioned my humble skills to the team doctor/historian. So now I find my weekends filled with scrums, half-naked chubby Iowa men, kegs, and an assortment of funnels the team uses to pee out of the old green bus as we roll around the countryside. Lessons learned: A team doctor is necessary for a successful season of rugby, especially when your teammates slammed their heads into each other for the bloody effect before the match starts.

1999
This post is taking too long. I'll add more tomorrow. I know you're all waiting in suspense!

For this song title please listen to the first song on the 2nd album made by the Go-Go's

Coming off a week of vacation is sorta hard. Menial things like sitting up and wearing clothes are so difficult. After a week of daytime tv, late-morning breakfasts, quiet walks in the cookie cutter neighborhood with Eli, and fresh pajamas, one can find it difficult to sit in an office with the sun and blue sky mocking my work schedule.

Dear Beth,

My friend Beth is leaving the BVS staff next Monday. Her last day at the office is Friday. This blog post is just for her. If your name is not Beth, you should look away and not read any further.
Thanks,
Mgmt

Beth
Organized. "Callie, did your remember to bring _____? That's ok I brought ____ for you!"

Designery. Artistic with everything from orientation schedules to mandalas to faith journeys.

Tolerant. Me: Let's put cheese in the scrambled eggs. Beth: Better not, someone might be lactose intolerant. Me: Oh right. Thanks for the reminder! Beth's tolerant of others' intolerances and that's pretty rad.

Consistent. Driving to and from orientation: Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Podcast. Over and over and well you get the idea!

Thoughtful. Each person's calling out has been sculpted and crafted in a detailed and loving way. And also usually longer than mine.

Neat & Clean* Cleaning the 8th floor waiting room at the Homicide unit in Baltimore after a long interview. Watching a very clean and sparse room at Camp Ithiel explode into colorful bursts of clothes, files, computers, shoes, coffee cups, ipods, cords, books, candy, and faith journeys.
*when necessary

And now for the finale: Lyrics you should recognize-

Everyone's a hero in their own way
Everyone's got something they can do
Get up, go out and fly!

Sometimes I don't have a lot to say.

A post-orientation day

800 miles. 6 hours of rain. 2 identical rest areas in Ohio. Skittles. Coffee. Ipod. Friends. Windshield wipers. Apartment. Eli. Functioning hot water heater. Neighbors cheering my name as I make an entrance at their party!

Food glorious Food.

Potatoes. Rice. Potatoes.
Bread pudding. Bread pudding.
Water.
Cereal. Milk. Soymilk. Lactaid.
Red pepper flakes. Garlic Powder. Salt.
German bread. White bread. Trashy bread in my stomach.
Potatoes.

Music to survive an orientation

I seem to go through peaks and valleys with musical tastes. Sometimes I horde a bunch of music and never derivate from my music. Other times I get a whole bunch of new stuff (new to me at least). So I deem it best to let you know what you should be listening to.

MGMT: Oracular Spectacular
Kings of Leon: Only by the Night
Phoenix: Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix
Regina Spektor: Far
Brandi Carlile: Give Up the Ghost...coming in October
The Bravery: The Sun and the Moon

Reflections

Thoughts on drop-off day:
Snakes keep tire indentations when rolled over by a tire.
Houses that are in foreclosure look really scary without out families occupying them.
People who open doors to a group of four people with the smell of pancakes wafting through the house, should invite the four people in for pancakes.
Churches that have cars parked in the lot should always answer the door. It's kinda the reason you're the church.
Bartenders won't let you pull a beer as part of your day of service. Even if you ask twice.
Old married couples working in the garden don't like to share the work with anyone. They hog all the work to themselves. That's what marriage is about.
Walking and talking together is how friendships develop.

Sprawly and dropped off

In 15 minutes, I'll be heading out with 20 other volunteers for our historical drop-off day. When I was at my own orientation in 2003, we were in a new place and did not do the drop-off day. Now that I have this job, I've taken out 7-8 groups in urban areas, rural areas, and suburban sprawly areas and dropped them off and wished them luck. Today is my turn to give it a shot. Yes, it's a bit hypocritical of me to drop groups off and without having experienced it myself. This is due in part to having a hectic orientation schedule, lack of drivers, or too much work to do on our 'off' day. Since Amazing Don is shadowing Beth, this frees my day up so I can go out and walk the hills of Carroll County. Beth and Don didn't really keep me in the loop that I was an actual participant so I had a hand in helping choose the groups, figure out directions to and from the spot of drop-off only to be told that I was participating. Ok time to head out!

Harry Caray and Me and Beer and Family

I went to the Cubs game yesterday. It made me think a lot about the firsts in my life. The first baseball game I saw was in 1988. I was nine and the Cubs were playing the Mets. I thought their uniforms were pretty hideous because they had orange on. I grew up knowing that red plus blue equals the Cubs colors. That day I met Harry Caray, the semi-sober announcer for the Cubs. Growing up with Harry announcing meant that everyone learned how to do a good Harray Caray impersonation. I'd have to say that my brother has the best one around. I met Harry at a Subway. He came in for something to eat and said to us, "You all coming to the game today?" His eyes smiled behind his big black rimmed glasses and he walked on out of the sandwich shop. In 1994 I went back to Wrigley with a great mish mash of friends and family. It was cousin Tyler, my brother, his college roommate Doc, my best friend Sarah who had just returned from her home in Egypt, and my folks. My folks had good seats behind home plate, and the rest of us sat in the bleachers in left field. In 94' the Cubs fever hadn't hit yet so we paid about $6 a person for bleacher seats. In the middle of the game, the blitzed fan behind me stood up to cheer and spilled his beer on my shoulders. We all turned around and stared at him. I'm pretty sure he felt pretty bad about it. 10 minutes later he stumbles over his bleacher buddies with an extra beer in hand and passes it directly to me. Yup, my first ever beer was given to me by a stranger in the bleachers when I was 15. I was pretty sure my folks weren't watching the game. I had it in my mind that they were following our every move with an old set of binoculars, as if they suspected that I was guzzling warm Old Style beers. To be honest it tasted pretty nasty and it warmed up quickly as I held onto it for the next 4 innings. Ahhhh firsts...

Hooray!

A few days back, I went running for the first time with my ipod. I've been hesitant about running with headphones on because of not being able to hear traffic/dogs/burglars coming up behind me. Nonetheless I tried it out and it went well. I actually ran farther than ever before with the help of music. Right off, I noticed that the music drowned out my huffing and puffing and weird nose sounds. Not being able to gauge my exhaustion level from breathing made me concentrate more on my muslces and running form. Before using music, I was listening to myself breathe hard, which freaked me out and made me slow down. Now it seems the music has masked that and I can run longer! Since the music has sort of blocked my breathing, my sense of smell kicked in and I could smell about 5 different fabric softeners being filtered out of people's houses too! Hooray for senses!

I am a follower.

http://www.pbs.org/wnet/religionandethics/episodes/july-7-2006/barbara-brown-taylor/1792/

Journal Thursday!

22 June 2006. My JS3 (8th graders)kids are learning how to do journal entries-so I am entering one here as well. So my time is just about up. I find it difficult to teach everyday, especially when the textbook is finished and my kids don't get official, final grades. 3 years, it seems so long and short at the same time. The school sessions have gone fast. The weeks to weeks have also sped by but month ot month, it seems so slow. Thursdays are my long days. 5 lessons in a row. Saratu will make rice and beans tonight. Wahoo!

Observances

Things seen on my walk with Eli:
A car driving over the curb to look at white dog.
A guy lighting the grill while texting.
Eli raising an unbarked protest: lying down in the street to protest the oppressive heat (it was 62F)

Things seen on my neighborhood run:
1 pillowtop mattress and box springs (Queen size)
1 diaper genie (used)
The lady that punches the air when she speed walks (she smiles with her eyes when I pass her)
2 giggling kids hiding in the bushes while their dad yells in Polish to get in the house for dinner.
1 blonde-haired 5 year old laying on the hood of a car and staring at the sky next to the dumpster.

Ramadan

A lady spoke up in church today and reminded our little congregation that Ramadan is here and that we should be sensitive to their month of fasting. And that got me thinking to the parts of my life where I lived with my Muslim neighbors.

The first time I heard a call to prayer after sundown (which broke the day of fasting) was in a little town called Garkida in the northeast of Nigeria. I went there to stay in an old missionary house for a weekend with a few of my colleagues. (What I'm really trying to say was the house had a waterbed and everyone wanted a chance to sleep on it) We had gotten to the house in the early evening and fixed a quick dinner so everyone (2 Swiss and me) could hang out and rest. After everyone had rested we headed down the hill to the main road that ran parallel to the Hawul River (did I mention it's really humid in Garkida due to the fact that the town is plopped down next to this huge river) So imagine 3 sunburned people walking down this long main road with shacks, and roadside stands frying up dough and meat and potatoes and yams and beans, and stray dogs, and chickens, and old men sitting on worn out logs, and well you get the idea I guess. And then we heard it.

Tap tap tap like someone checking a microphone to see if it's on.

Tap tap tap. And then a man's voice comes on the system.

And he sings in the most upbeat voice, "Allah akbar!" (Which in my translation means God's the best!!! God really is the best!!!!) And the Imam's voice isn't the normal flatlined voice that everyone always hears. This voice is completely transformed! This guy is happy to be singing the call to prayer! And you know what, everyone in the streets was in total agreement. The Imam sang the call to prayer over and over and just got more excited to be singing it! This call to prayer was a rejoiceful one. It was clear why he was so elated. The fast of the day was done, and after prayers were finished everyone was going home for a huge feast. It's pretty amazing that one man's voice can change the mood of a public space in such a short amount of time.

In my life I don't use Allah in my everyday conversations. But when I see or sing or read the word Hallelujah or Alleluia I know I'm connected to my neighbors in a deep sense of understanding!

Allah Akbar!

I'm that jogger girl.

Run. Running. Ran. I've started this thing called running. Growing up, running was used as a punishment from first grade through the twelfth grade. If I was late to practice, I had to do extra laps. If I missed free throws at the beginning of practice, Coach N____ added them to the tally at the end of practice so they lingered over me the entire time. So running wasn't so high up there in the list of things I felt I could do for fun. But something happened in my brain. My brain, (let's call her Joyce) told me to pick up the speed and swing my arms. And you know what? I was running! (Please read that sentence with the intonation and fervor of Forest Gump) I couldn't really run far without getting pissed off and out of breath. But I kept doing it because it made Joyce happy. And now it's been about a month and I can run a lot longer than when I started out. Actually this week something changed. My breathing during running changed. Early on I would just huff and suck wind in and out of my mouth. I once read that a person can get the most amount of oxygen in and Co2 out by inhaling through the nose and exhaling through the mouth. Well that's all well and good but I can't get it down very well. So my breathing theory has been inhale/exhale through my nose. I can do this for a lil while and then I have the urge to huff it out. But here's where the change happened: I don't have the urge to huff it anymore. I ran for 30 minutes tonight and realized I never had to open my mouth! Wowzers! So to celebrate I ran two laps!

If I was a poet this would be my poem.

My day is simple.

Walk the dog. Run around the block.

Shower. Eat. Drive aggressively to appear as a Chicagoan.

Sit in a grey chair for several hours. Eat and sit with familiar faces.

And even more familiar stories.

Back to work in the grey chair surrounded by white walls.

Get back in the car and drive in the middle lane.

Less potholes in the middle lane.

Take dog out. Don't look at him while he poops.

Check the mail. As usual all of it is for others.

Krzysztof. Amy. Jaimus.

Find ingredients for dinner.

Tonight. Mushrooms. Rice. Sesame Oil. Red hot pepper flakes. Local purple garlic.

And when I say local I mean Harrisonburg.

Watch the news. Read a book. Write my song.

Run around the block. Sleep. Repeat.