IKEA: Or, why we can never go there just ONCE in a day...

Ah, IKEA. Say it with me now, "IKEAAAAAAAA...." Let it linger on your tongue, for you know the goodness that IKEA brings. As all are Irish on St. Patty's Day, all are Swedish for the hour and a half you're in IKEA. From the meatballs and lingenberry sauce to the Rykstopp pillow cases and Orgendorf side table, it's a festival of all things the good ol' Swedes do best - make stuff. Mostly furniture. Sometimes bizarre lamps. But strap on your clogs, friends, for a trip to IKEA is more than just bright blue and yellow tarp bags and DIY bookcaes. Oh no no no. Don't let the adorable names and cutsey kids' playsets fool you. IKEA is an beautiful, wonder, but totally evil trap. It sucks you in and makes you incapable of purchasing the correct parts for anything you buy. It blinds you with cuteness and makes you feel like you're finally doing something good for yourself and your home. And then it turns on you...

Trust me.

I've been there twice today. That's right. Twice. This, my friends, did not make me at all happy. Certainly not clog-wearing, meatball-eating, Orgentopp-buying happy. Nope. Two trips in one day is badddddddd. It makes Rachel maddddddd.

Mind you, this store is approximately 45 minutes away. Add in the outrageous lines (it's a TUESDAY, people!! What are you doing in IKEA?!?! Don't you have jobs???), the traffic jams in the textiles department, and you've got yourself a full-on afternoon spent Swede-ing it up in a gigantic West Chester superstore. Oh, and to make matters worse, I heard at least two Spice Girls songs while I was there. Ok, well, maybe that makes things better... but you get my point.

I always have to gear myself up for these IKEA trips, especially when Jacob goes with me. He and I have the inane ability to spend massive amounts of money when we're together. We pawn it off as loving gestures to one another, like, "Oh, well if that extra $50 basket will really make you happy, then let's get it!" Or, "It's just $28 extra worth of pillow cases, so that seems reasonable..." And then we put it in the cart (or, if it's IKEA, one of those industrial sized dolleys) and go on our merry way to the next inappropriate purchase. So, today, before we left, I mentally prepared myself for the economy-stimulating afternoon ahead, drank my latte, and told myself to just enjoy.

And, to my shock, when we got there at about noon, the store was RELATIVELY quiet. I mean, I wasn't bumping into someone every time I turned around, but I did definitely step on a very short woman's foot while Jacob and I were looking for couches (NOT on our list of things to be looking for) and then I hit a kid in the neck with a rug. Don't ask. Suffice it to say, Jacob and I were having a blast, picking up things for my office (which is what we were making the trip for) and doing some other fun shopping.

Things were looking up.

Then you hit the "Self Service" area. We all know what this looks like. It's an airplane hangar sized room lined on opposing walls with Costco-esque shelves filled with piles and piles and stack and stacks of materials. You want a dresser? Good! Aisle 32 Bin 21. A hangar that houses all your scarves? Aisle 14 Bin 9. And so on and so on. Hopefully you wrote this code down while you were walking around the store, or else you're screwed. I also hope that you can reach and lift whatever t is you're looking for. It's not always a given that the 6 foot tall mirror you want is within reaching distance. It probably also weighs about 100 lbs, so good luck with that one, too.

This, my friends, is when you first start to think that IKEA is somewhat evil. But, again, the blue and yellow signs assuage your fears and you continue to numbly hunt around. This is FUN, remember??

Ok, ok, so let's assume that you get what you need, lug it to the check out (labels forward!), stuff it into your car (have any of you ever hit the wall on this one? Those damn shelves just... won't... get... into.... the back... of the... damn minivan!!!!), and get home. You're excited. You're jazzed. You've just gotten the best shelving system or coffee table or desk or whatever and you're stoked to put it together. What a blast! Maybe you even got some IKEAchocolate on the way out and you've got this great sugar-buzz going on and you're just ready to DIY the shit out of your IKEA purchases.

You love IKEA again. It's true. You've totally forgotten about the splinter you got lifting the wooden shelf or the toe that got crushed by the over-zealous 20-something lady that stomped on your foot while she was running from couch to couch with her husband (um, sorry about that...). No matter that you spent two more hours in that store than you planned! Or the fact that the drive home was miserably uncomfortable because you had to push the seat all the way forward, making you eat dash, just so the love seat would fit in the back of the car. It was all in the name of getting somewhat inexpensive, somewhat adorable, but totally freaking awesome stuff into your poor, badly decorated, horribly organized home. Ah yes. It's love again.

But then... you realize it. Your stomach flops over. The bile rises in your throat. The scream barrels out of your mouth, "NOOOOO!!!" Yes, you realize it. Or in my case, Jacob realizes it. We've totally miscounted how many sides we needed to our book shelf system. We needed 4. We bought 3. OMFG (as Jacob would say). But wait wait wait. It gets better! The shelves we've purchased don't have the hardware that's usually strapped on them. They're useless. We just purchased $100 worth of wood, basically. Just piles of wood. Awesome. This was supposed to be my desk and shelving system. I guess I could just stack it all up and sit next to it and use THAT as my desk...?

And, this is what I'm talking about. EVIL IKEA! You swoon me and make me love you and then, WHAP! You take it all away. Just like that. Granted, I'm the idiot that forgot to buy the stupid side part of the shelf, but you, YOU were the idiot that didn't attach any freaking hardware! Not my fault, IKEA. And now I have to trudge back, 45 minutes and a million lines and a stupid return policy later, to get new little silver pieces to attach my shelves. Those little silver bolts and fasteners will be the end of me...

This is not the first time, nor will it be the last time, I'm sure, that I will be forced into a two-a-day IKEA excursion against my own will. And yet, I do sometimes wonder if I'm just the only stupid person that cannot just do it right the first time. Or why I haven't learned my lesson and started to check and double check my items before checking out and taking them home... but for some reason, my IKEA trips are just plain flawed.

Maybe it's me. Maybe it's IKEA. Either way, as I sit at my Ivar desk on my Uterstafajfkdorflskna chair, I begrudingly admit that I love to hate IKEA. I confess, I can't wait to go back to that store. I want those meatballs even though they make my stomach hurt. I want to sit on the gigantic shopping cart while Jacob pushes me through the over-sized aisles. I want more stuff. ANd, yes, I know I'll screw it up or THEY will screw it up, and I'll think it's evil and out to get me. But, it's IKEA. The giver of all things good and sweet and honest. The place where magic happens and kids eat free before 11am. IKEA. Say it with me now, "IKEAAAAAAA..." Ah. That's better.

Updates, updates from 2009

Updates - at the close of 2009...

It's truly been one of those years that I think back on, sigh, and say, "How the hell did we get through this?" Beside the litany of family issues (and BOY was this ever a good year for that stuff!), there was my decision to stop grad school, the excitement of the wedding, and the stress and joy a new puppy brings. How we managed it ALL is beyond me. I mean... how the hell did it all happen?

I remember last year, sitting down to write my Thanksgiving post, feeling happy to just have fingernails! That's how crazy the end of last year was. And, of course, that only rolled into a more stressful, more insane year of 2009. I never imagined that we'd be able to muster the gumption to see another year through. But, cycle on we do, and live on we must, and so goes another calendar year.

For me, personally, this year has been one of true bittersweet beginnings and endings. As we speak, Jacob's father has made it through, by the skin of his teeth and via his own sheer will to keep on living, yet another heart attack. This one left him with barely any heart function and more of a chance that he'd not make it than ever before. But by golly, he's up, awake, funny, sarcastic, and asking after our dog (like usual). Yes, bittersweet. He's here, but it's clear that it's the beginning of the end.

Then, of course, there are more trivial matters, like my choice to end grad school and go searching for a "calling" that is pulling me somewhere... I just don't know exactly where. This decision was two years in the making, and while I'm happy to be done with the droning on and on that happens within the academy, I'm sad to think that this sure-fire thing I had going on (i.e. being a student) is ending. So are my dreams to be a PhD before 30 - not that I ever really wanted that, I just thought I did. Or something. The sword cuts both ways on this one. On the plus side, I'm free. On the negative side, I'm somewhat lost. On the whole though, I'm supported through this adventure, which is ultimately makes it a decision worth making.

My family is finally (fingers crossed!) making it out of the woods. And those were some nasty, NASTY woods we all trudged through in 2009. I have more hope than ever in my brother and sister, as well as my parents and myself, that we're going to be ok. Finally. Sometimes I wonder what we all did in a past life to be put through such pain this year! Yet again, the silver lining is that we now appreciate each other more than ever, and hopefully this sentiment won't dissolve any time soon.


Penny and Jacob are well. In fact, they are my life and my joy each and every day. Jacob is the best human being that was ever placed on this planet. He's shown me - in such beautiful ways - how to be a husband, a friend, and a true confidant. How I ever managed to live life before him is sometimes beyond me! How I made it this far in grad school seems impossible without him, that's for sure. And that darn puppy... she's a little slice of heaven. A menace, to be sure, but a joy nonetheless.

Updates, updates... Makes me wonder what 2010 will bring. A new job? New friends? New adventures? New crises? New worries? Yes, probably. But, my goodness, if 2009 has taught me anything it's that I can handle a LOT. I mean... a LOT. Not to taunt 2010, but bring it on! I'm able to handle whatever you throw at me. Not much scares me anymore. Bring it.

Things my dog teaches me

Allow me to introduce you to our puppy, Penny Lane.
She is, objectively, the cutest creature ever created. Her little face is just a slice of heaven. Her fur is velvety smooth (thank you Taste of the Wild!!) and her breath the perfect puppy-scent. She trots along with her head held high as if to say, "Hello world! I am, in fact, the picture of cute! A perfect gem to be admired! Adore me!"

Ah yes. It's this cuteness that gets us into trouble sometimes. You see, of course she's cute and all, but don't let that fool you. She's a handful and a half. She expects a lot from us, her dear parents, and she has us well trained. Sure, she has learned to sit and stay, but now she's cleverly parlayed that into the fine art of simply sitting and laying down without being asked. This, of course, is so cute and irresistible that we have no choice but to throw her a yummy bit of hot dog or cheese. Penny is not only cute, she's apparently a genius.

Don't get me wrong! She's a blast. Her energy is infectious and her personality is so endearing. And not only brought a ton of joy and laughs into our lives, but she has also turned out to be quite the teacher. To my chagrin, I have learned quite a bit from this little chocolate lab. Here I thought that I was going to be the one to impart knowledge and skills and love to my dog, but oh no no no. It has often ended up being quite the opposite. Here, friends, is an ever-growing list of things my puppy has taught me:

1. It's always better to be totally tired at the end of the day. That way, the second you find your comfy bed, you IMMEDIATELY fall asleep. (Bye-bye Ambien!)

2. It pays to eat good food. Watch as your skin improves, your hair becomes full and sleek, and your energy level sky-rockets.

3. Exercise, exercise, exercise. It helps make #1 on our list happen.

4. It's ALWAYS acceptable to jump around joyfully for no reason whatsoever. You'd be surprised how many people you can make smile that way.

5. Be silly.

6. Be outside as much as possible. Run and play out there. Get in the mud, the grass, the leaves and dirt. Get dirty.

7. Grow.

8. Never say no to an opportunity to snuggle or have our back (or belly, or right behind the ear) scratched. It feels AMAZING :-)

9. It's ok to cry sometimes.

10. Most things are better with cheese on them.


11. I think you'll find that you can say, "I love you" with your eyes. No words necessary.


So, there you have it. These are just a few of the things I've learned from my 3 month old puppy. Although my life is very different with her in it - it's far less spontaneous and free - it is, indeed, richer and more alive with meaning. I find the TV off a lot more, my shoes dirty by the back door, and my head hitting the pillow accompanied by a strong sense of accomplishment... and exhaustion.

Stay tuned for more life lessons from our sage puppy, Penny Lane.

Reporting from my couch

No, it's not swine flu. I promise. Never before have I been so self-conscious about having a cold. Yes, I have a full-blown, uncomfortable, annoying cold. It's migrated from my sinuses to my chest and left me reclined on my couch for almost 2 days now.

Usually, I relish being able to soak up the relaxation and delve into the blissfully nothing-filled day. This time, not so much. Let's just say the timing couldn't be worse. First, it's the last week of classes. Not only does that mean that finals are next week, but it also means that I am missing course evaluations and end-of-the-semester teaching obligations that just suck to not accomplish. My students have their last assignment due today (a poster presentation) and I'm not going to be there to grade them! And, due to our end of the year status, I can't just push the due date back, like usual. What's a sick teacher/student to do? Well, I wish I knew.

And if that's not bad enough, consider that tomorrow is my birthday. Yep. I'm going to be sick for my birthday and all the associated festivities. I'm pissed. Oh! And not only that, but yesterday (when I was also sick) was Jacob and my 2 year anniversary. I spent it in a sudafed haze and could not appreciate Jacob's company on that special day. Tonight, we had reservations to go to the #1 restaurant in Cincinnati and blow a bunch of dough on some delicious rabbit, fois gras, and sea scallops. No, instead I will be drinking Gypsy Cold Care tea, which is good, but doesn't hit the spot in the same way that a scrumptious plate of sea scallops with potato puree and a glass of Pinot Grigio does. Dammit.

So, with that, I'm going to blow my nose, wash my hands, and drink yet another cup of tea. I'll let you know when this passes. In the mean time, I have a dinner reservation to reschedule, a party to not go to, and work to not get done. Happy Birthday to me!

fondly,
me (on the couch)

Perfect brown rice

Ok! So, I'm not much of a cook. I'm not even really much of a sous-chef. My chopping skills are getting better, but I'll be damned if I can ever dice an onion properly. Those darn layers just split apart no matter how I try.

That being said, I have managed to perfect the art of cooking brown rice. This simple grain, the staple of diets of millions around the world, is easy to cook and imparts a wonderfully nutty flavor. A container of this yummy stuff can sit in your fridge during the work week. Grab a spoonful of it and mix in fresh veggies, grilled chicken, or just a handful of spinach or arugula. It makes the perfect lunch. It is so healthy it's ridiculous and, I'm telling you, it fills you up.

Give yourself about an hour to prepare this. Keep in mind, about ALL of this time is spent away from the stove. Walk away! Do some laundry. Read. Cook the rest of your dinner. I choose not to use a rice cooker for brown rice. For whatever reason, brown rice tastes better when cooked on the stove.
Ingredients:
2 cups of brown rice
4 cups of water or chicken stock, or some combination of both
salt and pepper
1 dish towel
The ratio of water to rice is 2:1. This means, two cups of water to one cup of brown rice. HINT! Use low-sodium chicken stock instead of water. The chicken stock will add some great flavor and some protein.
Pour rice and water/stock into heavy-bottomed pot. Salt and pepper the mixture. Give it ONE stir with a spoon. Cover and heat until boiling. When you notice steam pouring out from the lid, turn down the head to low and just let it sit. Set the timer for exactly 45 minutes. After 45 minutes, open the lid. You should still hear that boiling, bubbling noise. That's good. Turn off the heat (I use a gas stove, so this also means taking the pot off the heat. If you use an electric stove, remove the whole pan from the heat.) Then, grab that dish towel. Drape it over the open pot and put the lid on top. This will soak up extra moisture leaving you with perfectly moist, slightly al dente rice. Just let the towel sit on top of the pot for about 10 minutes, fluff, and eat! Store in a container - it's good for about a week (maybe just a work week).

Spring?

Today I woke up to the sunshine spilling through the attic window in Jacob's parent's house. It felt comforting and nurturing. Like a warm hug the instant you open your eyes. For me, it's like a shot of Prozac into my veins. It invites a smile and a sigh.

My hope is that this means spring is on its way. I try not to anticipate these things too much, because I know that my hopes will get dashed the second my energy rises and I get excited about the prospect of flowers blooming, sun shining, and birds chirping. But, I think... yes, I'm pretty sure, that spring is coming.

So, here's to sun-filled mornings that draw you outside to enjoy what the Earth provides for us. Here's to new, fresh foods at the farmer's market. Here's to taking runs outside at the crack of dawn. Here's to smiles and happiness. Here's to the smell of earth and new life, to twitterpation and new love. Here's to spring!

Not procrastinating

Well, I've done it. I've actually done it.

The "it" here is, obviously, working on my Thesis. I'm now the happy recipient of 4 interviews with my participants! To be more specific, I have 2 interviews with 4 people each. Let's call it about... maybe 7-8 hours of data? In my book, not a bad start at all. Certainly something to start writing the rest of my Thesis with. Le sigh...

It feels pretty darn good to get that part of the work out of the way. The funny thing that happened while I was listening to the heart-warming and heart-wrenching stories these people told me was, Whoa... I could really do this. Like, I could listen to these kinds of stories all my life. They are not only intellectually stimulating (because, we all know how much my brain gets off to narratives of madness) but also emotionally and spiritually satisfying, too. The stories people tell are so alive. I listened as they took shape, changed, and morphed again into something rich and something to make sense of. You see, we understand ourselves by the stories we tell. Think about telling someone about who you are... You tell a story. Stories organize our existences. They make sense of senseless situations. They imbibe meaning into experiences so that we have a sense of who we are, where we've been, and what forms our identities.

In short, these interviews and these stories have opened me up to a new world of understanding. I'm re-invigorated to do this paper, not just because it's interesting material, but because I want to share these stories with others. They are impactful. They question the way our mental health system works. They reveal the travesties that occur from child sexual, verbal, physical, and emotional abuse. It challenges the way we typically think about treating people that suffer from severe psychological problems. It's stuff that people need to know.

So, my lapse of procrastination has turned out to be quite a treat. A success. But, stay tuned, because as soon as break ends, I'm sure I'll be back to my old tricks... making the bed 10 times over to pass the time, organizing the spice rack alphabetically. The usual. Perhaps less than often than I typically do, because I've got stories to tell.

Annoyed

Ok. I'm officially annoyed. No, wait. I'm pissed. With my students. I presume none of them read this blog (we're not facebook friends or anything), so I will write with impunity.

When we were undergrads did we wait until the VERY last minute to read the requirements for an assignment, get very confused, then email the instructor with stupid questions? Did we have selective attention during class and actually tune OUT the important information that would make said stupid questions irrelevant? Oh yeah. That's right. We paid attention. We, for the most part, at least started assignments earlier than 4 hours before it was due to be sure we were good to go. So, why, God, why have I been cursed this semester?

Now, the thought did cross my mind that I was not clear about the assignment when I talked about it numerous times in class or in my posted, on-line instructions or on my assignment sheet... But then I hear my own thoughts buzzing around in my head and think: Nope. No, I've been perfectly clear. Many times I've been perfectly clear. This is bolstered by a number of drafts my good, sweet, angels of students have written me a week before the due date. These papers, folks, were lovely. No confused questions attached with the drafts. No annoying clarifications. Just well-written papers handed in by rubric-following students. I love them.

On the other hand, I am started to get fairly miffed by the handful of students that think that last-minute scrambling to write an important paper and then emailing me at the last minute will go unnoticed by me. It's not. I see you! I know you've been putting this off even though you've known about it for... um, I don't know... 6 weeks! WTF! Grrrrrrrrrrr. I growl at you, students.

Annoyed. I'm officially annoyed. I have about 12 hours to deflate, relax and greet my little students tomorrow morning. Of course, I can't treat my little annoyances any differently than my little angels, so I really have to just calm down and let the air out of my tires. I mean, I never really pulled this stuff in college, but I'm sure I had plenty of friends who did. They're not stupid people, I know. They don't do this on purpose to tick me off, I know. But I suppose I'll never fail to be surprised with what some of my students will think they can get away with.

All I have to say is that if even one of my students comes crying to me on the last day of class about their grade, I'm gonna scream!

Breakthroughs

I have had a number of breakthroughs in the past few days. Some of them minute (i.e. interacting with my thesis for a whole 15 minutes) and some of them very huge (i.e. having revelations about "who i am"). And I must say, within these varied and mostly uncomfortable epiphanies, one constant remained. Friends.

Each of these breakthroughs ended with me thinking, "Gee, I'm really thankful I have friends." They see me through this shit that is my life. When I think I'm really out to sea and there's no way anyone could ever get it, my friends seem to figure it out. They know what's going on. And they're there for me. Like... every time. How crazy!

It's funny to think that when you're dashing through a life that is so not what you thought it would be for you that you can find people to hang on to. And that they hang on to you. I often feel that my insane life and constant troubles would be enough to turn any rational, intelligent being away. That even those who know me would suddenly say, Ok, Rach! You're just too much for me now! But no. My friends don't do that.

Astonishing.

So, as these breakthroughs continue to come, I realize that I can relax into whatever situation I find myself in. I've got a few people hanging out that really care. And it puts everything into perspective. The world is a dizzying place. For me during these past two years, the world has been somewhat hard to handle, scary, and challenging. I've done things I wish I hadn't, I've done things I never imagined I could do, and I've become a person that I'm not sure I ever thought I'd be. I'm lightyears away from anything I ever intended for myself. I'm also very happy in many ways. And when I sit back and reflect on that happiness, I see the faces of my friends, of Jacob, my siblings, and my family. But mostly, here in Oxford, I see my friends. Each of them (and, of course, Jacob) is making my crazy life doable. And no matter how much I screw it up, they somehow still find love to give to me.

And isn't that the most profound breakthrough of all?

The Inaguration of Barack Obama

Live coverage of Barack becoming president... how much better can it get? Thank you, Hulu! I'll be watching this between class and seeing a client today. This is truly a momentous occasion in history. In the midst of all the stressful, painful things that are happening in my life and the world over, THIS day and THIS man can make us all smile. I'm ready for a big change. So ready.

Fortune Cookies

Why don't fortune cookies ACTUALLY give you a fortune? Huh? Is that so hard to ask for? I mean, they are called FORTUNE cookies. The least they could do is give a fortune. I have to say, I'm getting really sick and tired of cracking open those delicious little cookies only to find some dumb proverb printed on it. "The secret to happiness is an open heart" or "Too many people spend their lives reading the menu instead of enjoying the feast." It's crap! I want a freaking fortune!

It almost makes me not even want to order that mouth watering sweet and sour chicken. Almost...