London Bridge: desensitizing your parents

Yesterday, while on my way to the London Bridge, I sent my parents a text, "Going to see the London Bridge!" which didn't illicit much of a response from either of them. Mom replied, "!!!" and Dad replied, "is falling down, falling down."

That's it?! No shock, no awe?

Either I have totally desensitized my parents to my habits of slightly unpredictably geography, or they knew that the original London Bridge is, in fact, in Arizona. It's not falling down, it's in Lake Havasu City!

We drove down yesterday, just to check out the town. It was a nice day trip. We had to drive into California to get there, and took Old Route 66 a few miles through the Havasu National Wildlife Refuge (which looks like the rest of the desert but maybe has a little more sage brush and the Palo Verde trees don't look quite as manicured).

Lake Havasu City is just a big town at the edge of the desert by some water. It was founded in 1963 by a rich guy who then bought London Bridge when it was being replaced in England a few years later. Apparently, says Wikipedia, the London Bridge is the second most visited tourist attraction in Arizona, behind the Grand Canyon. Um, neat. So what's number 3? I need to add that to my to-do list.

Seriously though, my mind is blown that there are such new towns in this country, although I guess the rest of the world views pretty much our whole country that way. Just interesting.

Havasu was a good trip though. After many miles of open range with many signs warning of wild burros crossing (didn't see any though), we came upon the city. At first it mostly just appeared to be sprawly, but since there's nothing else around for miles, I guess that's understandable. The area around London Bridge was a nice riverwalk with lots of shops that we didn't really go in, and lots of nice ducks.

One of the reasons we decided to go down there was Mud Shark Brewery, but before we got there, we stumbled upon Barley Brothers Brewery. Both were excellent. Full review here.

All in all, a lovely day trip.

first week rundown

This is my seventh day in Arizona. So far I have:

• gotten my brain into this time zone
• begun Arboriculture and Urban Forestry online (the irony of taking those in the desert)
• signed up for two Coursera classes
• learned how to operate a French press
• cold brewed coffee (this was entirely too strong, but the right flavor, so I'll keep working on it)
• gone for long walks every morning
• completed two of three days of week 1 of the Couch to 5k program with Mike (on a scale from couch to 5k, I am probably somewhere in the middle, although the hills and altitude may have set me back a bit)
• did a soil texture analysis (Carrizo-Riverwash complex: loamy sand! Let me know if you want to see my lab report.)
• caught up on Wait Wait Don't Tell Me and Prairie Home Companion
• applied to over 800 jobs (this is not an exaggeration, but this includes 702 openings around the country within the same announcement and four other announcements with over a dozen openings-- I guess it makes more sense to tell you I applied to 14 jobs this week)
• spent a lot of time on facebook and Google Reader
• Skyped with Mom and Dad
• read half of the 12th book in the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series (love love love these books)
• spent yesterday morning with NRCS on Mojave Nation land checking out cropland deficiencies (mostly due to irrigation systems that were inundated with sand)
• Yes, it turns out there is cropland in the desert. Alfalfa mostly, and some cotton. They have sheep grazing nearby here. They do floodgate irrigation by the Colorado River. It's kind of bizarre to see a swath of green in the desert. 

It's "chilly" here this morning. Yesterday's weather:

 

Blowing dust?! This apparently brought some kind of "cold front". I'm excited to do field work with NRCS at much higher elevations next week, where the high is expected to be well below freezing. Arizona?!

the last few days

My last few days in New Jersey were a whirlwind of seeing family and friends, a last minute field trip with NRCS to look at glacial landscapes, dog/apartment sitting at my brother's, and putting off packing as long as possible. It went quickly, and there were so many people and places I wanted to see, but I'll be back.

These last few days in Arizona (well, first few!), I have mostly been a lazy bum trying to recover from the time zone change. For as much as I love traveling, I am actually pretty terrible at it. Only two hours difference, and I feel like a complete zombie.

I have a lot of small projects that I'm going to be working on while I'm out here: applying for jobs, taking two courses online through Bottineau (Urban Forestry and Arboriculture! good thing it's two tree courses, and there are about two trees in all of Mohave County...), learning to bake bread, learning how to operate a French press and cold brew coffee, getting better at running, probably other things.

This morning I took a nice long walk to scope out a running route. I got sort of lost in the sense that I didn't end up where I meant to, but didn't really not know where I was. It was a nice walk, despite how windy it is-- it does actually get cold in the desert at night, so it was a chilly morning here, and the "breeze" (yeah right, NOAA) was really howling in my ears. I might give myself a few days to get used to the altitude before I actually start running. It's about a 1050 foot difference, which is really not much, but consider the fact that I grew up pretty much at sea level. My ears pop constantly when driving around NJ. My ears pop when I go down the street here.

During my walk, I was lamenting the vegetation. I was just really missing the smell of something green. It just smells like sand here. But, I was feeling thankful for the beautiful views of mountains that completely surround this place. I do miss a lot of things about home, but I'll find little things here to get excited about, too.

Suggestions for projects, new things to learn, and things to look for are welcome... in fact, encouraged!

Standing on the shoulders of giants

Sometimes things just fall right into your lap. Such was the case for my father, listening to REM's King of Birds on his way home from a day trip to PA, while we were waiting for him with some awful, awful news: Uncle Fred was gone. Well, at that point, he was on life support while the family waited for one of his sons to make it up from VA, but he passed away quietly on the evening of December 22, almost exactly 24 hours after my great aunt noticed something was amiss.

I was absolutely kicking myself, because I'd passed through my cousin's town in VA during my travels in the previous days, and was mad at myself for not planning better and visiting with them on my way. I consoled myself during the long drive home that I was sure I'd see them soon at some family event. That felt terrible upon arriving home and receiving the news from my mom.

My father spoke at Fred's funeral, using the line "standing on the shoulders of giants" from that REM song to illustrate how lesser men and women stand on the shoulders of giants to get by. Uncle Fred was one such giant for our family-- a kind and loving man, devoted to his family, serving others, and full of great stories and jokes to keep his four younger siblings (my grandmother and uncles) and the rest of us on our toes.

I'm feeling extremely blessed to have known him in my adult life, to be able to appreciate those stories and zingers. In the height of my family picture scanning blitz, he sat down with me one quiet afternoon to go through them and help fill in some dates and names, including information about my grandfather, who none of us ever knew. It was a difficult conversation, but he was kind, helpful and tactful, as he ever was. I'm so glad we had all of the family gatherings in the last few years, where I could appreciate him as the eldest of the complete set of George and Edith Spain's children.


My entire life, Uncle Fred has been our patriarch. I realize that our time on earth is finite, but I still generally prefer to operate under the assumption that no one is leaving any time soon. This was sudden. I've lost people before, people who were dear to me and an important part of my upbringing, but this is the first time that it's happened so unexpectedly. I am now more acutely aware of my own mortality.

It just felt so conclusive, singing A Mighty Fortress at the end of the service and hearing someone ring the bell. It kind of rang right through my heart as I followed my father out of the funeral so he could help my cousins carry Uncle Fred out of the church.

Rather than dwelling on that in a negative way, I'm trying to take what fell into my father's lap, this idea of standing on the shoulders of giants, and move forward. I'm not the New Years resolution type, but especially as I'm in this time in my life where nothing is certain, and I'm trying so hard to move forward, to find my vocation and to just do something, I find myself thinking about standing on the shoulders of the giants of my life-- Uncle Fred, and so many others. I'm holding close the many stories of his servant's heart, his faith, his strength, his love and his compassion, and remembering these things that were encouraged by the village of Spains and Kecks and Earps and so many others that raised me (and continue to raise me).


As we begin a new year, and as I continue my search for what's next in my life, I'm going to keep in mind that I never walk alone, and that I've been given great gifts by many giants. I'm going to listen a little more closely for my calling, and I'm going to bring all of the compassion, strength, caring and love that I can to the table.

Uncle Fred, and all of the others, are still with us in this way. We'll miss you, Uncle Fred.

Happy 2013. May it be the best yet for all of us, honoring the giants who came before.

a one way ticket to somewhere

Lately, I've been deeply frustrated with many things. Mostly myself.

I am now 27 years old and have yet to find full time work. That in and of itself is an incredibly frustrating thing. To make it worse, the work I do currently have as an adjunct professor ends in two weeks, and I've screwed myself out of a continued appointment in the spring (while I was still being strung along by  holding out hope for waiting on Peace Corps, I declined to sign a new contract for the spring semester, a decision that I quickly questioned and regretted, as I quickly realized it was time to break up with Peace Corps).




All right, I've been trying to articulate how I'm feeling for almost an hour now. I just can't do it. I am sad, and frustrated, and worried, and frustrated, and just sick to death of constantly applying to jobs and being rejected.

Trying to take comfort in the facts that: lately I've been rejected by an actual person reviewing my information and just having other, stronger applicants rather than just getting nixed by the computer in the first round of the application process; I've at least figured out what I might want to be when I grow up and am taking classes and volunteering and networking and working really hard toward it; I have some really great family and friends who encourage and support me at every turn; probably some other things, probably the little things like hiking on beautiful farms and playing fun music with friends and having good lecture moments and the puppy sleeping on my lap right now and the new music Dispatch released today.

I just don't like where I am right now. Unemployment pending, no real plan, and all the frustration.

I don't really think I suck that much. I believe the terminology I've used before is "relatively well qualified citizen of earth". I don't need a pep talk right now. I like to think all of this hard work on my education (BA, MS and now community college coursework), volunteering, trying trying trying to be a decent human being, is going somewhere. Being optimistic is my nature, and even though it's been really, really, really hard lately, I'm still trying to be sunny and positive about my future. It's going somewhere.


You probably thought that was what the title of this post was alluding to, but I did actually buy a one way ticket to Las Vegas (aka I'm going to Arizona). I fly out in exactly a month, on Friday, January 4. I'm not going forever, but I'm going to hang out for an as of yet undetermined amount of time while I figure this all out. At least the company is good, even if I feel like I have nothing else going on.

I know I have other things going on. I'm just really frustrated at the present. And I'm getting even more frustrated that I can't really find the words to explain what's going on in my head right now, so I'm going to stop trying and just post this so you know that we should hang out soon.

This is not my best writing, but that's probably appropriate, because these are not my finest hours.  


EDITED TO ADD: Also neat that this is the 200th post in my blog about being on an adventure. It does not escape me, the juxtaposition between feeling stuck in my life and it being a sort of monumental post in the bigger picture of a grand adventure.

And let me be clear, I do not feel stuck with Mike or Arizona or going to Arizona. Those things are fine and wonderful. I just feel stuck with me.

There are planets you don't know and there are moons that you don't see

While we probably all well know that I am a big, big fan of Mr. Ritter's, this is not a song I am usually drawn to. It was in my head during this morning's pre-dawn commute under a very full moon...

Last month's full moon coincided with a rather big storm that we're only beginning to truly understand the scale of. A full moon high tide is responsible for minor flooding on a regular basis, even without winds and rain. I remember thinking about this going into the storm. Sitting down to lunch with the state climatologist a couple of weeks after the storm, he argued that the first high tide as Sandy and the full moon approached probably saved a lot of lives, scaring people off the islands as the water rose quickly well in advance of the actual storm. We all know that the various unprecedented factors of Sandy-- her size, her record breaking low pressure, her exceptional path, her combination with the second major storm front, her making landfall in the most densely populated part of the country, and of course that full moon-- made a serious impact on our landscape and our lives in the region.

New Jersey (and New York) won't be the same. The damages in NJ are almost as costly as the state's operating budget for the next year*. Trying to wrap one's mind around how much has changed is its own challenge. Trying to stay positive in light of many complicated questions about the rebuilding process is its own challenge. Trying to focus on other aspects of life and not be totally overwhelmed mourning the places and memories of my childhood is its own challenge. This has not been easy.

But then, there's this month's full moon. Many towns are still struggling with the aftermath and destruction of what happened under the last full moon, but the one I saw this morning on my drive to William Paterson was stunning and bright, and under this month's full moon, there was some joy. Julie and Matt welcomed baby Ryan to the world. Babies are neat, because they come without a care for things like hurricane damage or how the world around his has changed drastically since his childhood, because his childhood is ahead of him. He just gets to hang out and be loved. How peaceful and wonderful is that?

So, this morning, I'm thinking about the month between these full moons, and taking comfort in the little things, the good things, that come out of times like these. Life moves on, and today, that's a pretty reassuring thought. Welcome to the world, little one!



Edited to add--
*of course this has already been updated. After weeks of keeping numbers quiet, the initial cost of damages was released as being over $29 billion, which is nearly the $31.4ish billion budget for NJ for the next fiscal year. A revised number was released today: $36.8 billion.

Guardianing (Guardianship 101)

Saturday, day one: The 11 year old is still alive. Also, I already verbed "guardian". Success. (All right, she's about 1000% better than alive. We had excellent adventures, got some fresh air, ate some candy and a good dinner with friends by a wonderful fire, and had some good conversation in the car. She is now reading herself into a coma after brushing her teeth.) Spent the day at camp to offer some food and love and candy to our friends who are still without power. I did a soil science lab with two other kids in tow. It was good.

Sunday, day two: A relaxing day that involved a trip to Toys R Us to spend a birthday giftcard, and a lot of being lazy and hanging out. I got so much work done for school!

Monday, day three: Camp remains without power, so my backup (Ann and Lorelei) are still not really options, since we would freeze in our sleep and/or my leg would fall off (it has been 27 degrees up there at night-- they are incredible, strong people). Today, we drove from Cinnaminson to William Paterson, where at least she got to hang out with her brother for most of the day, and then to Mendham, where the amazing Hellriegel family welcomed us for trick or treating, dinner and sleeping over. Tomorrow we have to drive a long time again, because I cannot live with myself if I don't vote.

I stole a piece of her Halloween candy after she went to bed, because I assume that's one of my responsibilities as the parent figure, even if it's just a temporary arrangement.

Tuesday, day four: We drove. I voted. We hung out at my house all day with the zillions of dogs, cats and family members who are currently staying warm there. Sara became fast friends with my Uncle Don, teaming up to tell me how weird I am. We played the game of Life. We watched TV. We ate spaghetti. We drove to Harrison to stay with my superhero cousin and his super awesome fiancee (thank you thank you THANK YOU again for bailing us out of having to make the full commute this morning).

Wednesday, day five: So far, so good. Everyone's still alive, and she's not even totally sick to death of my company yet. We drove to school, where she hung out with her brother in the morning while I taught and met with students. 

On the way to school, I proved that I have what it takes to be a good guardian. I put the child before myself, and hid my pain. "Don't Stop Believing" came on the radio, and we listened to the whole thing. And I didn't turn it down or off. Major sacrifice.

After I was done for the day, we drove through the snow and the wind to arrive safely and warmly three hours later back in Cinnaminson. The rest of the week should be way more relaxed-- camp is still, very sadly, without power. I hope my friends there are staying warm and safe, especially as this new storm blows in. We are doing a good job of surviving the week, except for the shin splints I got while leaving the Paterson area (first gear second gear first gear second gear first gear second gear third gear first gear...)

Peace Corps Update, Part V

Part I
Parts II, III and IV

November 1

Dear (Recruiter 3),

I hope this finds you well. I don't expect you to receive this for a few days-- I know what that storm has done to my own hometown and county, and I understand Lower Manhattan is a mess and without power, too.

I am writing to you to withdraw my application. I've given it a lot of thought, and this just no longer strikes me as the right way to go about international service, in the context of my life. I want to thank you for being extremely helpful these past few months, always getting back to me, even when you didn't know the answer. You have been kind, honest, and patient with me, and I really do appreciate it.

Unfortunately, none of the reasons for my withdrawal have anything to do with you, but I don't know who else to share them with, as I have not had a productive relationship with your colleagues. That in and of itself it one of the reasons-- if the communication is so poor here in the United States, I have great concerns about being in the developing world with this organization. I understand through many RPCV friends that the experience is amazing if one can overlook the many flaws of Peace Corps, but I'm just not feeling entirely comfortable getting to that point.

In addition to lacking communication, some of it has just been incorrect. When my application was first withdrawn in February, I was told it was because of my lack of teaching experience and my lack of environmental studies, but by then I already had three years of teaching experience at the college level, and my BA and MS are both in environmental topics. Both degrees say Geography, but if the transcripts that I was required to send had been read, countless earth science, environment and development, climatology and human-environment interactions courses would have been noted. I was informed that these things rendered me ineligible for any environment-related positions, but then was nominated for exactly that several months later.

More recently, it was frustrating to receive no contact following the nomination for two months (save your emails letting me know that you didn't know any more than I did, and I thank you for those), until I heard from the Medical Services. They requested more information about a neurological disorder that I had already explained in the paperwork as being quelled; this is fine, I understand that it's something that most people are not familiar with. However, the paperwork I was sent was all related to Immunology and Rheumatology, which is just incorrect. The medical system is convoluted, and it was difficult to figure out which piece(s) of identification to include in my correspondence. I can generally overlook honest mistakes, but it has just felt like time and time again, my personal situation and information wasn't being considered particularly closely. Hopefully I am the only person repeatedly falling through the cracks like this.

At this point, the March departure is getting close. I have to pay my specialist, without insurance, to fill out the paper work regarding my neurological disorder; I know I'll have other general physical and dental exams to complete soon too. I've had to start considering my future too, which most immediately included making the decision whether to agree to teach another semester or not. I can't hold out hope forever and just not make arrangements to continue working. This is fast becoming an expensive commitment, and I haven't even begun to prepare for departure, since I know nothing about it. I'm not even guaranteed a final acceptance and placement.

The past year since I first applied to Peace Corps has been quite an adventure. At first, it was exciting, with a successful interview and a recruiter who was answering my initial questions swiftly and kindly. However, this quickly turned to a very negative experience. I don't expect Peace Corps workers to be my personal counselor, but a little compassion would have been welcomed-- weren't they in my shoes once? I was ignored for several weeks following the initial withdrawal, and then of course the incident occurred when I received a late evening phone message on a Friday, when he would not be able to respond to me for over a week.

This breaks my heart. I wanted so badly to represent my country and to bring my education and desire to serve to the developing world. I'm hopeful that I'll find another way to accomplish this that is less agonizing. I was told many times by friends in Peace Corps that if I could just get beyond the disorganization and bureaucratic nonsense, it was a worthwhile experience. I'm sure it is, but the organization doesn't seem too intent on getting me there, and I don't have the where with all to do it myself at this point in my life. I hope the overhaul of the system eventually lends itself to placing strong candidates in places that need them and providing an incredible experience to all involved. Unfortunately, that was not my experience.

Thank you again, (Recruiter 3), for all of your hard work for me. I really appreciate that you managed to nominate me and encourage me through this. Please let me know if there is anything else I need to do. Wishing you well.
Peace,
Colleen





Kind of insulting: after two months of virtual silence, I received an IMMEDIATE response from both Recruiter number 3 and the placement desk in Washington, D.C. that was allegedly handling my application, confirming my withdrawal.

FLASH OF GENIUS, re: Sandy. and sand.

FLASH OF GENIUS, EVERYONE. If all of the beach kids get together and vacuum out our cars, dump out our shoes and shake out our bedsheets, that should be at least enough sand to repair a few beaches...

Sandy Frankenstorm.

Well.



Miscellaneous interjection, but also my wishes for everyone right now. I hope this finds you well.

It's been an overwhelming week to say the least. I came home to Toms River ahead of the storm, and my family was fortunate enough to only lose power for a few hours, and barely experience any damage to our home. Less than a mile east, the Barnegat Bay flooded homes and ate away at the coastline. Less than five miles south, the Toms River rose, submerging downtown. Less than five miles east has fallen into the ocean.

I have wonderful memories of many summer days spent at Island Beach State Park. We had family picnics ever August in Normandy. I have Ortley Beach badges going back more than a decade, and more recently have spent a lot of time walking to the beach from my friend's house in South Seaside Park. Just a week ago, I drove the entire Coastal Heritage Trail to complete the Lighthouse Challenge for the third year in a row with three of my best friends.

I love New Jersey more than most people. This is heartbreaking. Devastating. Just... awful. But what's making it even worse for me is cynicism and negative attitudes. It's really hard to be optimistic in the face of the absolute wreckage, but focusing on stupid political things and how the power company hasn't gotten to you yet isn't going to make it better. Maybe that's easy for me to say because I haven't been without power, but I've been there before, honest. We went a week without power, water, phones and much of anywhere to safely go after Irene last year. The families who live on site at Johnsonburg are toughing through that for the third time in a year right now. Even still, I called to see if I could bring anything, and I was asked if they could do anything for my community.
 





Why not assume the best? Over three million customers without power is A LOT OF CUSTOMERS. I've read things about New Jersey turning away non-union workers, but maybe there's something more to it that we don't understand, and besides, they've gone on to help our neighbors in New York. Millions of people have power back at this point, and so many people are working around the clock to make that happen. And honestly, as inconvenient as losing power is, there are so many who have it way worse just a few miles away in a shelter because their entire home, power and all, is gone. 

I love this website because right now, I think being positive is more important than ever. My favorite thing about post-Irene? Thankfully heat was not really an issue, but we just spent time together. We talked. We laughed. We sang. We got a good night's sleep.

No matter how alone we feel, we're not. No matter how devastating this is, it's not forever. No matter how much it will never be the same, at least we had it in the first place, and other great things will come from this. Power will come back. Things can be replaced-- or maybe they don't need to be. But we still have each other and the great, great Garden State. Am I foolish in my optimism? Maybe, but I don't really care.

Peace Corps Update, Parts II, III and IV

Part I can be found here.

Part II: When leaving camp around 7:55PM on June 22 as referenced in this post, I got a call from a New York City number (area code 212). I don't know when or why I got into the habit of ignoring calls from unknown numbers, but I did, figuring, if it was important, they'd leave a message.

They left a message. I listened right away. It was a different recruiter from Peace Corps. He wanted to talk. Call him back.

I called back immediately. Actually, I called back many times, over and over, alternating between his direct line and the main number. Nothing. What did he do, call and then sprint out of the office? Why on earth would he call so late on a Friday anyway?

I called back first thing Monday. Nothing. I left a message. I called a few other times during the day and got no one at his number or the main number. Getting really, really frustrated. On Tuesday, same thing. Eventually on Wednesday, someone answered the main line and told me that the office was actually technically closed for the week, she was just trying to catch up on paperwork. But she listened, and apologized, and promised she'd figure it out for me. Except, I was going to be in Canada the following week and couldn't take calls.

Come to find out via voice mail from Recruiter 2 while visiting the US on July 4, that he was just calling to check in and see if I wanted to continue the process. Way to freak me out and get me all sorts of excitedupsetfurioussadthrilledexcitedsad. I decide to remain in limbo ("withdrawn"), but the girl who answered the phone when the office was closed became my new recruiter.

Part III: Seven days before this post, while I was getting my luggage out of the Jeep at Alice's place in Fishtown and tying my boots (didn't want the heavy shoes in my checked luggage when it needed to be under 50 pounds and already contained a case of Yuengling), I received a phonecall from a 212 number, and after contemplating ignoring it again, I answered it. It was the third recruiter, offering me a nomination...

...on the condition that I fill out the new application. They've changed over to a new system since I was withdrawn (see Part I). I filled it out. It was tedious and frustrating, but I did it, carefully.

Then I waited.

and waited.



and waited.

and my recruiter knew nothing because I am one of the first people in the country under this new system, and no one knows anything.

Part IV: After two months of no contact, I receive an update from the medical services, requesting more information about my nerve disorder, which was inevitable. They sent me paperwork on Immunology and Rheumatology, which my NEUROLOGICAL DISORDER is not. You know, the dystrophy that I clearly wrote about under "Neurological Information" on the initial health form. I do understand simple mistakes, but it seems that I am constantly a simple mistake, and continually fall through the cracks on every little thing with them. I am being strung along in a bad relationship.