Flower Power

Bread feeds the body, indeed, but flowers feed also the soul.
~The Koran

Yet another reason why I love the place where Allen works.

They sent me this beautiful bouquet with a note that read:

Get well soon! Sorry this took so long. Your friends at (Allen's work).

What is it about flowers? They make me a happier person just to look over at them. Is it the colors? The fragrance that fills the room? There is something grand about having a small part of nature and the outside world at springtime right here at my bedside in the middle of winter.

Whatever it is, they have brightened my room and my spirits since the day they arrived last week and once again I have been reminded of what an awesome company Allen works for.

For My Friends At Sorenson

Dear Sorenson Friends,

I got an email from Maria (Hi Maria! Thanks for the email!) and she mentioned that a whole bunch of you read my blog. I just wanted you all to know that just knowing that totally made my day. It's almost like I'm still one of the gang.

You ladies rock.

Much love,
Gerb

White. Styrofoam. Cup.

photo from officemax.com

One thing that I hate about my sometimes-job is that I am required to attend 60 hours worth of interpreter workshops every 3 years to maintain my certification. Most workshops are held at least an hour away and cost a fair amount of cash. However, one of my favorite things about my sometimes-job is when the local university right here in my hometown holds its annual interpreter conference.

The difference between this local conference and the ones held farther away is, in my opinion, significant. For one, I am a sometimes-employee of said university so after I shell out my minimal up front fee to register I am paid to attend for three days.

Score!

Another thing I love is that these workshops always end up being much more entertaining, interactive and just overall enjoyable than any others that I attend. Take today for example.

All of the conference attendees had previously taken the Myers-Briggs Personality Test in order to discuss the various ways that our personalities can affect our work. My personal results were surprising and interesting. In order to help us see the differences in personality styles, the presenter pulled out a white styrofoam cup and asked us to write a paragraph to describe it.

Most people's answers were something along the lines of: A white styrofoam cup. Used to keep things hot or cold. Holds beverages. Breaks easily. Things along those lines. I chose not to share my paragraph, because it was completely different from anyone else's...

At first glance it appears to be a simple, white styrofoam drinking cup. It is only when you really look at it that you can realize its full potential. Is it really just a cup? Look deeper. It could become a planter for a seed. A disposable pencil holder. Perhaps even a future spider trap or roly-poly collector. If you have ever been camping you have likely heard that this cup lets off some sort of toxins when burned. If that's true then it even has a slightly sinister side. This cup, like each of us, can be so much more than we imagine at first glance. This cup actually has some amazing potential, just waiting to be unleashed.

Funny thing is, for the rest of today's conference I started to look at all sorts of things in this way. Popcorn. Pencils. Paper. People.

All filled with potential beyond what we see.

I can't wait to learn what is in store at tomorrow's workshop sessions.

Regarding Laundromats

Because our clothes dryer's motor decided to make a dramatic exit the week of Christmas, (Dear Dryer, Nice timing, jerk. Sincerely, Gerb) I have recently become well acquainted with our local laundromats. It had been well over 16 years since I had the opportunity of laundering my family's clothing surrounded by strangers and I wasn't sure of where to go.

The first place I tried was like being in a foreign country right within a couple of miles of home. To summarize, I had children getting into my purse, eating my snacks and rummaging through my baskets while their parents sat nearby giving me threatening looks. When I went out to my car to lock my personal items in the trunk, I returned to find the mother of the previously mentioned children going through my clothes in the washing machines. (I promise you, I am not making this stuff up.) When I tried to ask the kids to stop or their mother to explain what in the world she thought she was doing, I was met with blank stares. The joke was on me... no one there spoke English. Needless to say, I did not return to this location.

My next attempt was in a place equally close to home but in a different direction. This place was definitely an improvement but it had the feel of a cowboy bar in the backwoods somewhere with a distinctive smell of chewing tobacco and some twangy music playing overhead... and me without my iPod. I firmly believe that I endured some sort of torture, having nothing to listen to except for the drone of washers and dryers along with sad songs about beer, trucks and boots. A homeless man wandered in, set his knapsack and bedding beneath a bench in the corner and checked all of the vending machines for forgotten change before locking himself in the bathroom for the remainder of the time I was there. I decided not to return here, either.

Allen suggested I try the place we frequented as college students way-back-when. I was skeptical about the location still being a laundromat but I was happy to give it a shot. As I approached the building I noticed that everything around it had changed but the laundromat was still there. Suffice it to say that this is the place I have returned to every time since. Clean facilities, new machines, wireless internet and a comfortable atmosphere made it worth the extra drive.

There are some things to be said for laundromats in general.

First of all, it is awesome to get 8 loads of laundry done in a two-hour time span. It is also fun to people-watch and enjoy some treats all to myself (except at that first place) as the washloads are running. I'm sure it must have saved us some money on our gas and water bill for the last few weeks as well.

However...

It is no fun to load up the clothing and linens of 11 people and cart it into a self-serve laundry, basket by basket. There is also nothing glamorous about folding that amount of laundry in a short amount of time, keeping track of which dryers hold your items, or trying to hide your unmentionables from the people who surround you.

In the end it all comes down to this:

I'm definitely going to appreciate having a working dryer at home again.

5 Minutes

I have 5 minutes before this day is over.

I said I would post everyday this month, and I'm a woman of my word. But I have no ideas.

I learned to do "free-writes" in some English class a long time ago, which is where you just write whatever pops into your head for a set amount of time. This is a free-write...

Yesterday we poured 6 yards of concrete around the borders of our property. I helped with setting the forms

(forms set, before concrete)

and doing the finish work once the "big, swirly truck" (as ElemenoB so articulately named it) came and dumped the concrete for us.


We were out there all day. When I am taught to do something for the first time, I am something of a perfectionist. Allen kept telling me I needed to think quantity, not quality, but I couldn't help myself. It was like smacking down a pile of mud with a trowel and then frosting a cake, nice and smooth. And it seemed to stay pretty mushy for quite awhile so I kept taking my sweet time... until it came down to the wire. Then the concrete was hardening before I could get to it. I had to spray it down and exert more elbow grease to get those sections pretty. By the time we were finished my whole body ached. Lesson learned: I would never choose to have a profession like concrete masonry. But when I went out this morning to see how everything set up overnight, I was quite impressed with myself.

(after)

I own this stretch of footings, as well as some along the west side.

I am woman! (rawr.)

A Woman's Work Is Never Done

Three out of three UDOT males agree...   Manual labor is women's work.
Today I am thankful that my brother likes to take awesome pictures with his iPhone. Thanks, Chip!

New Shoes!

I ran into someone I had not seen in a long time the other day. "I wish I had new shoes on!" he lamented. I grinned. I had not thought about that in a while...

Long, long ago in a place not too far from here I used to work as an American Sign Language interpreter. Every morning I would go to an elementary school and enter the classroom of a teacher who did not appear to enjoy her job. My assignment was not to jazz up the teacher's lectures in order to keep the child I was interpreting for awake... although I often wished it was.

One day, something exciting happened. Miss Teacher came into the class with a twinkle in her eye and a poster in her hand.

"Do you know what happened yesterday, children?" she asked, smiling. They all shook their heads, wondering what had caused this transformation. "I bought new shoes!" she answered, shifting her feet at different angles to show off her new purchase. "And guess what happens when we get new shoes? We say the 'New Shoes' poem!"

She turned and hung the poster she carried in the front of the room. It was decorated with all sorts of shoes she had cut out from magazines and various advertisements, and in the middle was the poem, 'Choosing Shoes'.

And I fell in love. (With the poem, silly.)

Soon after this I changed jobs and interpreted at a state college. We often had meetings that were less-than-exciting... until one day when all that changed.

"Does anyone have anything to bring up?" the boss-lady asked as the meeting began. I looked around. Everyone was doodling on paper or otherwise trying to stay awake. And then I saw them... Boss-lady had on new shoes. I raised my hand.

"I notice you have on new shoes, boss-lady!" I pointed out with all the excitement I could muster. Everyone looked. She smiled. "Yes, I do. Thank you for noticing, Gerb. Anyone else?"

I raised my hand again. "Do you know what happens when someone is wearing new shoes?" I asked. And before she could answer I stood up and said, "They get the 'New Shoes' song!"

I immediately broke into an impromptu dance, reciting the poem in a sing-songy manner directed at boss-lady. I ended with a flourish and sat down to the applause of my co-workers.

"Thank you, Gerb," boss-lady said, laughing. "Anyone else have new shoes?"

I sang for 2 more people that day and for several others since. I noticed that people often happened to buy new shoes the week of our meetings... coincidence? I think not.

How about you - got new shoes? Well, go slip them on and enjoy...

Choosing Shoes
by Frida Wolfe

New shoes, new shoes,
Red and pink and blue shoes.
Tell me, what would you choose,
If they'd let us buy?

Buckle shoes, bow shoes,
Pretty pointy-toe shoes,
Strappy, cappy low shoes;
Let's have some to try.

Bright shoes, white shoes,
Dandy-dance-by-night shoes,
Perhaps-a-little-tight shoes,
Like some? So would I.

BUT
Flat shoes, fat shoes,
Stump-along-like-that shoes,
Wipe-them-on-the-mat shoes,
That's the sort they'll buy.