Stubbornness and Determination

I made the most delicious smoothie this morning. Though places like Jamba Juice, Surf City Squeeze, and non-chain coffee shops provide really tasty fruity blended drinks to perfection, there's nothing more gratifying that doing it yourself. I should also mention, when making ANYTHING at home, you get to choose what goes into what you're making. This morning's smoothie was the most satisfying because I cracked a coconut open and used the milk as the base for my strawberry-banana smoothie. I've been known to down a smoothie nearly as fast as I'm capable of downing a glass of water after a long bike ride, but today I savored it. I gave Abbi a bit to taste since she helped me open the coconut and she agreed: pretty damn delicious.

After a few sips of my smoothie, I looked at the shell of the coconut and wondered just how I'd get the meat from the fruit. I went to YouTube, my trusty ally in most how-to scenarios. Unfortunately, my impatience and excitement won over reason and I decided that I'd just figure it out as I went. I started by scraping the meat with a fork. I certainly was getting shaved coconut, my desired outcome but at the rate I was going it would take me the full two hours I had before leaving for work to finish. Other ideas came to me and I messed around (quite literally: the table, counter and sink were covered in hairy shavings and coconut scraped bits) until I had some semblance of order. My technique helped me produce the most amount of edible coconut bits and the least amount of waste (that I could manage with the tools I was using).

As I used a spoon to pry parts of the coconut from it's shell, I thought: "This probably isn't the way anyone else would do this" "If someone saw me right know they'd laugh to high heaven" ... I was grateful that Abbi had left for the day and Jenny and James had decided to take a mid-morning nap; I was able to do whatever I pleased without anyone leaning over my shoulder. It was almost therapeutic, my method. It reminded me of how I choose to de-seed pomegranates. Certainly there are easier ways with less potential of staining various surfaces in the process, but I still choose to pull each individual seed away from it's skin, it's connection to the whole.

I'm reading The Fountainhead right now and I couldn't help but compare my fruit disassembling processes to the sketch assembly process Roark is known for. He's takes pride in his work even if it's not popular or liked at all. He refuses to do work that he knows he would be ashamed of. I like those ideals, they're quite similar to what I learned at a young age. When we had chores to do, my sister and I would often cut corners to get things done faster so we'd be able to head outside to play with our friends. When Mom would check to see what we'd done we'd often times have to re-do our task simply because it wasn't done up to her expectations. As a ten-year-old it was annoying to have to do something to someone else's standards; I didn't understand why Mom wouldn't just do the vacuuming herself if she had a particular way she wanted it done, but unlike my sister, after a bunch of times having to re-do my chores, I started doing them well, meticulously well.

Later I learned that nearly every task I'd have to accomplish would have to be done (in some way or another) to please and sometimes appease another. That realization sucked, but I'm glad that I was raised to accomplish a task that I'd want to sign my name to. There's no reward in doing things the easy way simply because it's the easiest. Tasks should be accomplished in a manner that produces the most satisfaction, the most gratification. Rarely, if ever are the two one and the same and I don't really mind that at all. I like challenges, I like to push myself and I don't mind getting dirty to get the job done.

So anyway, I've got some really strange looking coconut "shavings" and bits in a container that I'll bring to work today. I'll have what Gramps calls a "shit-eating" grin on my face while I snack on my coconut as I read more of The Fountainhead during my break.

The best way for me to get something done that I've been putting off is to stop saying: "I'll get to it" or "someday, I'll do that" and actually say, "I'm going to do this!"

Example:

Last Saturday, I was chatting with one of my co-workers about all sorts of things and somehow the topic of running came up. She told me about the Couch to 5k and how she's about to start it, planning on running in a 5k race in October. She suggested I look into it. I did and it sounded like a great way for me to ease into running instead of just deciding to pick up my pace one day.

On Sunday I mentioned to Mere and Mikey that I was thinking about training for a 5k, but I didn't go into any detail, just put it out there. On Monday I thought about it some more and decided: "For sure, I'm gonna do this!" Tuesday morning, when I was making a bacon quiche with Mikey, I made up my mind: "I am so doing this. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow."

On Tuesday afternoon, my grandmother called me to let me know that she was at Ikea. Her and Grandpa rarely make it to the Cities because they both can't sit for too long at a time, but uncle Tim drove them to the Cities for Grandpa's VA Medical Center appointment and afterwards, they wanted to check out Ikea. Thankfully, Abbi was able to give me a ride (in her beep-beep Jeep with the top down!) to Ikea on her way to work. Minutes after I met up with my family, they were joking about my shoes. I've had my Vibram KSOs for about three months now and rarely take them off. I realize that I look like I have gorilla feet, but I don't care in the least bit. I mentioned various reasons why the shoes are great and then I said: "This week I'm going to start training for a 5k." Before I went to bed that night, I decided: "Tomorrow night."

At work yesterday, I told Lauren that I was going to do my first workout that evening when I got home from work. It effortlessly floated out of my mouth and I didn't feel the need to change my mind. I was going to do it. And I did. And it felt great. And I can't wait until tomorrow night to do it again.

I'm going to keep a progress journal on Tumblr, so if you're at all interested, check it out here.

The Pizza Farm...Best Date Ever

So, it has happened. The best date ever is done and over with and will never be beat, but in case any of you want to replicate the awesomeness of the date, here's what I did:

First, I didn't let Mere know where we were going or what we'd be doing for the date. I sent her an invite as an email attachment. I told her we'd be driving an hour and a half to get there, she should wear something she wouldn't mind getting dirty and that we'd be eating something at some point during the date. That's all she knew for sure before we left Minneapolis.

Once we were on the outskirts of St. Paul, I had her fish a list out of the "inventory" bag. The list was scavengerhuntesque: someone biking, a red-winged black bird, an East coast license plate, a blue tractor, etc. For each thing she was able to cross off her scavenger hunt list, she was able to take a "clue" from an envelope. Clues like: "Though it would take them a long time to get here, TMNT would love this place" and "Mice aren't welcome in restaurants; it's a good thing this place has cats."

Periodically, she was able to take a "challenge" from another envelope. For each completed challenge, she was then able to ask a yes/no question to try to figure out where we're going or what we were doing. Most creative challenge: "For the next mile of the drive, your life is a musical. Sing-narrate your experience of the date thus far." Mere's impromptu sing-naration was brilliant and adorable and I wish I would have figured out a way to record her singing.

Eventually, she put all the clues together and discovered that we were going to a pizza farm. I described the farm a little more to her...it's a farm that makes pizzas in their outdoor brick pizza oven every Tuesday night during the summer. Everything on the pizza (except olives) is grown at the farm and every pie is made to order.

In case you don't know: farms + eating locally and organically = 2 things Mere is ALL about. I knew she'd absolutely love this date idea and sure enough, she had a blast. Getting there early is key. We were the 63rd person to order and we got there about a half an hour after they put the first pizza in the oven and when we left they were well on their way to two hundred pizzas. They don't offer plates, napkins, tables, chairs or beverages, but we were set with some iced tea and my picnic basket with plates and utensils. Others had rather elaborate spreads: tables, tablecloths, tealight candles, balloons (some people were celebrating birthdays), wine, beer, cheese spreads...

Before our pizza was finished, we took a little walk around the farm where we got to meet a few cows and some chickens. There was a bit of time when Mere walked down a row of some sort of produce and started taking pictures all around. During that time, I decided to have a little chat with the chickens: "I'm going to marry that girl some day."

We got the Italian sausage (#1) pizza. It. Was. SO. Good. I'm talking one of the best things I've ever put in my mouth, ever. If you ever get a chance to go: DO IT!

We walked our full tummies back to the car and I called my sister to let her know we were ready for the second bit of the epic date: Mere visiting (some of) my family. It took about an hour to get there. First we met Mom as she was pulling some weeds in the front yard. We walked around the house so Mere could see all the awesome landscaping Mom has done in the backyard and since Bonkers was outside, she got to meet him and see just why we call him the kitty cow.

We walked next door to see Gramma and Gramps. They showed Mere both of their gardens, explained what everything was and offered us some kohlrabi, romaine lettuce and the very first zucchini. When we went into the house, Gramps showed off some of his wooden bowls that he had been working on before his back surgery. He let Mere pick one out to keep. Jo and Carter came over and we got to play with him for awhile and Gramps shared some of his venison jerky with us. Before we left there we had our hands full with more jerky, homemade donuts, rhubarb wine, and a few other goodies. Hugs were exchanged and we headed back to Mom's

Mere got to see one of my baby pictures, had a short tour of the house, and chatted a tiny bit more with my mom before we decided that it was time for us to head back to the Cities (since we both had to work the next day). Everyone was really happy that they were able to meet Mere and I was really happy that Mere didn't freak out on me for not warning her that she was going to be meeting my family.

Yesterday Was Father's Day

I did avoid my dad while I was in town last week, but that's because he just so happened to be out of town. Yesterday, when I attempted to write a little something (on Tumblr) about my dad for Father's Day, I ended-up unloading a lot more than expected. Because it's important, I'm posting it here.

This is the only picture I could find (on the internet/my computer) of my dad and me.

I’ve sat looking at a blinking cursor for about five minutes trying to decide what to include in this post, thinking about the photograph itself, the event that happened when it was taken, everything before the event and everything after…It’s incredibly ironic that this is the only picture I could find…

For about five years of my life, I considered myself Christian though I didn’t agree with most of what I did and said when I was abiding by the Bible. When I started delving more into the metaphysical and simultaneously researching “the truth” in various religions, I realized that I’m much more agnostic than anything else, and that didn’t bother me. I’ve considered myself a spiritualist for about five years and it suits me just fine.

This past week I started reading The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs and I’ll be finishing it tonight. It’s an entertaining and quick read. I wasn’t really expecting the book to have a really strong influence on me, but I’m pleasantly surprised to find myself wanting to get back to the daily routines that have really helped me keep my head above water: praying, meditating, living in gratitude. It’s not that I haven’t been doing these things, it’s more that I’ve been sporadically doing them when I’m desperate or so completely overwhelmed, I have nothing left to rely on.

If you see me on a day where I’ve spent fifteen minutes meditating, you’ll be pleased to find a cheerful, calm, collected person, someone you wouldn’t mind spending several hours with. Catch me on a day where I’ve obsessed over the same thought for fifteen minutes (or more, as is often the case), and you’ll still see someone cheerful, but also uncomfortably bubbly, jittery, scattered.

Let’s get back to the origin of this post: the picture of my dad and me.
We’re sitting on a bench on the deck attached to my dad’s ex-wife’s employer’s home, overlooking Lake Altoona in Altoona, Wisconsin (right next door to Eau Claire). It’s about noon in late August and I’ve just had my dad’s birth mother (who was in town for a couple of days), baptize me in the algae-covered lake. As members of my church small group stood in the water with us, Grandma babbled about informed us on the purpose and meaning of baptism, recited a few Bible verses, and dunked me under the water.

The event itself was quick and rather lackluster, but it meant so much to me. Though I physically didn’t necessarily feel any different other than being soaked in algae water, I felt amazing. For the record: from the moment I had the idea to get baptized, I knew what it meant to me and what I would be getting out of it verses what it would mean to my family and friends.

Brace yourself, I’m about to start writing way more than planned:
A couple years earlier, I tried to drown myself in a bathtub. Clearly, I didn’t accomplish my mission, and thankfully, too. About a month afterwards, I got the desire to take a bath, but as I started to fill the tub, I just couldn’t do it. A few more months went by and I tried again. It seemed as though I’d never again be able to enjoy a bath for fear that something in me would take over and I’d never get out of the tub. After a very long depression battle, I somehow got interested in metaphysics and became much more aware of what I was doing to my body: nutrition, meditation, exercise (and lack-there-of). I vowed to myself that I’d never harm myself ever again and I wanted some way to make a binding pact. Somehow, I settled on baptism.

So I emerged from the water and saw my small group, Grandma, and other friends and family clapping for me. They don’t know it, but they were clapping because I just made a pact to stay on the earth among them until my real time came. They don’t know that I was saying: hey everyone, I’m important, I deserve to be here, I’m happy that I’m alive and I’m happy that I have each and every one of you in my life.

Okay. This post was supposed to be some sort of something about Father’s Day. I don’t have the greatest relationship with my dad, but I’m reminded each time I think about my baptism and every time I see this picture, that I asked him to be there that day and he was. I forgive him for the wrongs he’s done to me in the past and I do wish we had a better relationship, but things like that take a lot of time and there’s still a lot of healing we both have left to do.

Thanks for reading all of this.

Three Days Away

Tomorrow after work, I'm driving to Eau Claire in Mere's car. I've got three new mixed CDs, a pack of Twizzlers, and if I manage to find a pair during my break, a new pair of sunglasses, to make the trip with me. I realized this morning that tomorrow will be the first time I've ever done the drive to or from Eau Claire entirely by myself. I'm pretty dang excited. I'd be even more excited if Mere was able to join me for the three days I'll be home, but that would be next to impossible as she's in China right now.

Almost every time I plan to be home for a few days in a row, I find myself wanting to get away sooner than arranged. I don't think this trip will be any different...the nice thing is: I can leave whenever I want since I don't have to arrange a ride with anyone.

Agenda:
Bake something with Gramps and Gramma
Listen to the whippoorwill and tree frogs
Spend a bunch of time with Carterbug
Eat mac-n-cheese pizza on Water St.
Get my driver's license renewed
Sleep as much as possible
Avoid my father

RANT

If you are sick, you do not belong in the kitchen, especially when I'm baking cupcakes that'll be fed to a bunch of people! And even more, when you do come out here to make your tea, you really shouldn't be touching all of my stuff that's set-up for my baking extravaganza. You're making tea? You need a mug, water, and a tea bag, plus the microwave. I have no idea how you'd find it necessary to run your dirty paws over all my ingredients (albeit still packaged)! AND! I am using a recipe and following it to a T, so there really isn't any reason why you should be leaning over my shoulder telling me how to mix some fucking batter.

I'm Comin' Out, I Want the World to Know...

I came out to my dad's adopted parents this week when I was catching-up with them on the phone. I hadn't spoken with them since early March and they were itching to know what I had been up to. I'm fairly sure they were just wondering if I had decided to go back to school in the fall or not, instead I broke the news to them that I have a girlfriend and am extremely happy with her and I told them that if I do go back to school, it'll be for massage therapy and not for English or Linguistics.

This month has been incredible. I feel so alive and happy and I don't want to hide any bits of myself anymore. I know that some of my family members either won't understand or are quite homophobic and will probably become quite uncomfortable when I come out to them, but if they truly care about me and who I am and where my life is headed, they best be hearing about my lovely girlfriend.

If you read through my Mission 101 list, you'll find a vast array of challenges, some rather puny and others quite grand-scale. Coming out to all of my family members is on that list. I've decided that it isn't quite necessary to call-up the people that I really don't ever talk to (estranged/distant relatives) just for this conversation, but for the people who have a more solid role in my life, I've got to let them know.

Since I've just told my dad's adopted parents, now that whole side of the family knows. Yay! My dad's birth mother and one of her sons also know but her other two sons and their wives and children do not. My sister, her son and I will be road-tripping to visit them during the first weekend in August. I fully intend on coming out to them while I'm there, as I haven't the slightest idea when I'll see them again. As they're quite the conservative bunch, I'm not quite sure exactly how they'll take it, but I'm prepared to have a few bible verses shoved down my throat.*

I haven't tackled my mom's siblings and their significant others and children, though the cousins do have Facebook, but that just doesn't count. I'm not so nervous about coming out to them, but I want a good time to do so. I won't be making it home anytime soon (that it looks like), so maybe I should send my aunt a letter, a response to the letter she sent me this week, but with an added coming out edge. We'll see.

However they take it, I want people to know because if they have and questions or concerns, I can answer them. If they're unsure about their opinion of homosexuality because they're ignorant, I'll educate them. Here's to hoping all goes well!


* Whenever I hear the phrase "shoved down my throat," I think about this poster. Hey, guess what? The image actually applies to this entry:

My seventh grade science teacher had this up in her room. On the first day of class that foggy September, she asked us which character wasn't going to give up. I immediately thought: "Well duh! The frog doesn't want to get eaten, so he's certainly going to struggle to make sure he doesn't get swallowed." Most of my classmates agreed but someone asked: "Well, what about the bird? He's gotta be hungry. Maybe he hasn't seen food for awhile and this is his only chance to eat to survive." Well, dang. There now, we've got a stalemate. Neither wants to die. Both are going to struggle. Someone is definitely going to be satisfied and someone is definitely going to be disappointed. It's important for me to remember this image and phrase as I'm coming out. I'm absolutely certain of my identity and I'm not going to be changed or convinced that what my lovestyle is wrong. I understand that for those people who just don't quite get how someone can be attracted to a person of the same gender, they'll not want to give-up trying to save me from what they deem a "sinful life." I may always be at a stalemate with some relatives when I come out to them, but at least I'm not going to hide myself for the comfort of someone else.