Not to long ago, I did what everyone across the country is doing and jumped on the Facebook bandwagon. One of the things that surprised me (once I figured out how to work the damn thing) was the number of people that I went to high school with who wanted to be my friend. I must have been better liked than I thought.
It wasn’t just the people that were in my class from high school (all 53 of us), it was people from the grades above and below as well that really surprised me. People that were older than me but I was friends with their siblings or my younger brothers friends. I’m not sure if this is a common thing or if it is one of those special things about small towns, but I’ve found I actually enjoy finding out what people I knew 10 years ago have done with their lives.
A lot of people have left Thompson Falls and have gotten married, had kids, have a good job, you know the “normal” things one does after high school. Something I wasn’t prepared for was the realization that I was an outlier in this world. While I typically have one or two college degrees more than them, I am not married (nor am I close) and am very much still in the “renting” phase regarding kids. [Renting kids: (v.) when one enjoys spending small periods of time with other peoples children but also enjoys being able to give them back when the child screams, cries, smells, or when one gets bored.] The point here being that I really like my life the way it is. It wasn’t what I had planned on, but so far I’m enjoying the way things are working out.
The thing is, while I’m an outlier for many of the people I attended high school with, I’m pretty normal in my Portland social groups. I’m one of the few singles still around, but it’s not a big deal and there are usually a few of us. And very few of my friends have kids yet. I fit very well into my own niche that I’ve carved out here in Portland.
What really surprises me are the people that have chosen either to stay, or to come back to, Thompson Falls. I grew up there, my parents still live there, there are very few jobs, and it is in the middle of nowhere. Seriously, you can’t even buy underwear that doesn’t come in a 6 pack in that town. What on earth is the appeal for these young people to want to move back and raise their families there? I haven’t figured it out yet, but I really like reading the “wall-to-wall” messages on those people’s Facebook pages. The messages where they coordinate lunch or offer to watch the others child and talk about going to the places in town I grew up with.
The life they have chosen is something so totally foreign to me and something I have never wanted for myself. It reminds me though, that there are many paths in life and one isn’t necessarily better than the other, just different. And while I enjoy a glimpse at what life would be like living in Thompson as a young person, it makes me very glad I am right where I am at.
November 11, 2008
Soup . . . It's Whats For Lunch
If you asked any of my friends to describe me, picky eater would be on the list of adjectives chosen. It’s not that I make others accommodate me, but often I choose not to eat certain things. With the food world somewhat limited for me, I tend to eat the same things over and over again. Things like soup.
I’ve always loved soup, who knows why, but I eat it a lot. It is a very convenient lunch to bring to school and to work. I only eat half a can a day (one full serving), and I get two days worth of lunches out of one can of soup. Since I am also cheap, I am saving a ton of money on eating a can of soup rather than eating out every day! Like I said, I love soup.
Historically, I ate three types of soup: chicken noodle, minestrone, and split green pea. However I recently ran into a small problem. See, my work recently moved to a different part of town and lets just say the lunch options reflect the surrounding neighborhood. The word to describe the neighborhood and lunch options can be summed up with dismal. Since the move, I have been much better about not going out to lunch with the boys all the time like I did in the previous neighborhood, but that means I have to bring a lunch most days. Which of course leads me back to soup.
When you have next to no options for outside lunches and its winter, soup is a common lunch theme. The problem is that after 5 years of eating the same soups, I am starting to get sick of them. So I decided it was time to branch out of my picky eater mentality and actually try some new soups.
On a recent trip to the grocery store, I spent some time examining the soups in the soup aisle. Who knew there were so many flavors?! Seriously, there was half an aisle of just soup! I grabbed probably six different kinds of soup. Now for most people this wouldn’t be a big deal, but when you’re me, six new flavors is huge.
Today I had the Mexican chicken tortilla. It was delicious! Look at me all growing up, trying new flavors of food. And while the boys still make fun of me for eating half a can of soup for lunch, at least they can stop hassling me for only eating chicken noodle. So many flavors of soup . . . who knew?
I’ve always loved soup, who knows why, but I eat it a lot. It is a very convenient lunch to bring to school and to work. I only eat half a can a day (one full serving), and I get two days worth of lunches out of one can of soup. Since I am also cheap, I am saving a ton of money on eating a can of soup rather than eating out every day! Like I said, I love soup.
Historically, I ate three types of soup: chicken noodle, minestrone, and split green pea. However I recently ran into a small problem. See, my work recently moved to a different part of town and lets just say the lunch options reflect the surrounding neighborhood. The word to describe the neighborhood and lunch options can be summed up with dismal. Since the move, I have been much better about not going out to lunch with the boys all the time like I did in the previous neighborhood, but that means I have to bring a lunch most days. Which of course leads me back to soup.
When you have next to no options for outside lunches and its winter, soup is a common lunch theme. The problem is that after 5 years of eating the same soups, I am starting to get sick of them. So I decided it was time to branch out of my picky eater mentality and actually try some new soups.
On a recent trip to the grocery store, I spent some time examining the soups in the soup aisle. Who knew there were so many flavors?! Seriously, there was half an aisle of just soup! I grabbed probably six different kinds of soup. Now for most people this wouldn’t be a big deal, but when you’re me, six new flavors is huge.
Today I had the Mexican chicken tortilla. It was delicious! Look at me all growing up, trying new flavors of food. And while the boys still make fun of me for eating half a can of soup for lunch, at least they can stop hassling me for only eating chicken noodle. So many flavors of soup . . . who knew?
November 3, 2008
Run-a-holic
It has been 72 days since I had my last fix. No, I’m not talking about drugs or alcohol, I am talking about running. I ran injured for most of last year, trying to train and run in Hood to Coast. Now I am trying to rehab my injuries and I think it might kill me.
I don’t have that traditional runners build and I’m not a speed demon but for as long as I can remember, I’ve been able to run. I go through phases where I’m running more to train for an event and then running less just for exercise, but I’ve always run. This past summer I managed to injure myself to the point that I could hardly walk, much less run.
The body is an amazing thing though. Before my big event this past summer, I was in serious pain and couldn’t run at all the two weeks leading up to it. I was a little worried about competing on an injury plagued body, but figured it was only a short 30 hours of my life. You can do just about anything for only 30 hours. I ran the event fabulously (for me) and met all of my personal goals I had set ahead of time. And I haven’t been able to run since. 72 days later it still hurts to walk.
The main problem is my IT band, this giant tendon thing that attaches at your hip and knee. Apparently it gets pissed off when you try and use it too much. So now I’m done with one month of PT and headed back for more, down an MRI, and my cortisone shot is starting to kick in. Not only is rehabbing my leg driving me crazy because I can’t run, it is damn expensive!
I miss running. When runners pass me on the street I want to tell them to appreciate what they are able to do. I want to tell the runners at the gym, “Hey, I run too! I’m just walking because I don’t have a choice.” I never actually tell them this because it would make me sound crazy to a stranger on the street. Yet I have the impression that anyone who has had to rehab an in jury before would get it.
I didn’t used to categorize myself as a runner because I don’t run marathons and I don’t run 20 races a year. Turns out, that’s not what makes you a runner. It’s that runners high you get so that you can’t wait to go back and do it again. It’s the run that feels so good it doesn’t even matter that you are running through sleet and you can’t feel your fingers. It’s that itchy restlessness you get in your legs when you’re stuck at work and can’t wait to run. And apparently it’s being frustrated to the point of tears because it has been 72 days and it will likely be 72 more. Sigh.
I don’t have that traditional runners build and I’m not a speed demon but for as long as I can remember, I’ve been able to run. I go through phases where I’m running more to train for an event and then running less just for exercise, but I’ve always run. This past summer I managed to injure myself to the point that I could hardly walk, much less run.
The body is an amazing thing though. Before my big event this past summer, I was in serious pain and couldn’t run at all the two weeks leading up to it. I was a little worried about competing on an injury plagued body, but figured it was only a short 30 hours of my life. You can do just about anything for only 30 hours. I ran the event fabulously (for me) and met all of my personal goals I had set ahead of time. And I haven’t been able to run since. 72 days later it still hurts to walk.
The main problem is my IT band, this giant tendon thing that attaches at your hip and knee. Apparently it gets pissed off when you try and use it too much. So now I’m done with one month of PT and headed back for more, down an MRI, and my cortisone shot is starting to kick in. Not only is rehabbing my leg driving me crazy because I can’t run, it is damn expensive!
I miss running. When runners pass me on the street I want to tell them to appreciate what they are able to do. I want to tell the runners at the gym, “Hey, I run too! I’m just walking because I don’t have a choice.” I never actually tell them this because it would make me sound crazy to a stranger on the street. Yet I have the impression that anyone who has had to rehab an in jury before would get it.
I didn’t used to categorize myself as a runner because I don’t run marathons and I don’t run 20 races a year. Turns out, that’s not what makes you a runner. It’s that runners high you get so that you can’t wait to go back and do it again. It’s the run that feels so good it doesn’t even matter that you are running through sleet and you can’t feel your fingers. It’s that itchy restlessness you get in your legs when you’re stuck at work and can’t wait to run. And apparently it’s being frustrated to the point of tears because it has been 72 days and it will likely be 72 more. Sigh.
November 2, 2008
The 'Tweener Stage of Life
Recently I have found myself in what I refer to as a “tweener” spot. Normally this term is used for those not quite human beings we call pre-teens, but in my own life, I find myself between the major life steps. I am done with grad school and have about five years of work experience under my belt. I consider myself pretty successful at life thus far. What I do not currently have, much to the disgrace of some of my friends, is a guy.
I recently went to a bachelorette party where I found myself the only non-engaged non-married girl in the group. Which as it turns out, is my own personal version of hell since apparently all that group of girls could talk about was weddings, marriage, and babies. Oh, and did I mention that the bride-to-be asked all her other friends if they knew of anyone for me to date? Say it with me. H-E-L-L.
What I realized throughout the night is how much I appreciate another group of friends I have. The ones who accept me and love me regardless of if I have a date or not. The ones that don’t hassle me about guys and realize that I have to go about life in my own heidi-like way. I was feeling frustrated that the two girls at this party that I thought of as really good friends, somehow thought that I was lacking or unhappy because I wasn’t seeing anybody.
What I wanted them to understand was that someday, I probably will get married. In the meantime, I don’t find my life lacking for much due to the lack of a guy. It is okay that I don’t have a date because I don’t want to settle for the crazies that they all want to introduce me to. What I don’t enjoy is the feeling like they are almost embarrassed that they still have a single girl friend. It is okay that I am single. I’m happy with life and shouldn’t that be the most important thing?
Seeing my two friends, who I don’t get to visit with often, wasn’t quite the reunion I was hoping for. What it made me realize though, was how great my current primary group of friends are. My guy friends who never question my lack of a date, my couple friends who always invite me to be the third wheel and wouldn’t have it any other way, and the group as a whole that is supportive of each others personal life decisions, whether we agree with them or not. That is friendship.
I recently went to a bachelorette party where I found myself the only non-engaged non-married girl in the group. Which as it turns out, is my own personal version of hell since apparently all that group of girls could talk about was weddings, marriage, and babies. Oh, and did I mention that the bride-to-be asked all her other friends if they knew of anyone for me to date? Say it with me. H-E-L-L.
What I realized throughout the night is how much I appreciate another group of friends I have. The ones who accept me and love me regardless of if I have a date or not. The ones that don’t hassle me about guys and realize that I have to go about life in my own heidi-like way. I was feeling frustrated that the two girls at this party that I thought of as really good friends, somehow thought that I was lacking or unhappy because I wasn’t seeing anybody.
What I wanted them to understand was that someday, I probably will get married. In the meantime, I don’t find my life lacking for much due to the lack of a guy. It is okay that I don’t have a date because I don’t want to settle for the crazies that they all want to introduce me to. What I don’t enjoy is the feeling like they are almost embarrassed that they still have a single girl friend. It is okay that I am single. I’m happy with life and shouldn’t that be the most important thing?
Seeing my two friends, who I don’t get to visit with often, wasn’t quite the reunion I was hoping for. What it made me realize though, was how great my current primary group of friends are. My guy friends who never question my lack of a date, my couple friends who always invite me to be the third wheel and wouldn’t have it any other way, and the group as a whole that is supportive of each others personal life decisions, whether we agree with them or not. That is friendship.
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