I have an ID card--it must be official?!

Sooo, just finished my inaugural week at a new job after a long hiatus, and the first thing I've gotta tell you is...man, I'm seriously out of shape, y'all! Not in an athletic way, mind you, since I've had plenty of time to keep up with exercise in my...ahem...life of leisure. More like needing to rebuild the stamina required to wake up at a prescribed time, (*prepare and imbibe coffee*), select and don an office-appropriate outfit, apply a business-ready face, wrangle the hair into compliance, exit the house in a punctual fashion...and then spend hours being, you know, "productive". It's a LOT, folks! (I'm joking, of course; I know I'm preaching to the proverbial choir, here, because all of you are out there killin' it every day...so let me just say, you're doing great, keep up the good work!)

Now, part of the issue was that for the first 2 days, I was scheduled for mandatory orientation sessions beginning at 8:30. (NOT my favorite--or most bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed--start-time, given a choice. Alas, no one asked me for my input...) Monday's marathon kicked off with the UNC half-day version of "everything you ever wanted and/or needed to know about the institution itself, plus lots of HR-type information that you may or may not remember 5 minutes from now, since it's an overwhelming amount of...stuff".

(Not to worry--they were also super-diligent about providing the online location of everything they discussed, so once our brains filled up and shut down, we'd still be able to retrieve the important details later, when we'd actually find them useful!) This was followed by another presentation in the afternoon, specific to the School of Medicine, and focusing on more tech-related topics like network access and security, email setup, timesheet entry, and whatnot.

Whew--that was exhausting...and also quite a shock to the system already, compared to my prior  onboarding experience, which must have taken, oh, about 15 minutes for the tiny self-contained non-profit! (Okay, I'm probably exaggerating...though I do honestly recall it being brief and uncomplicated...) But wait, there's MORE...on Tuesday (after first visiting the Public Safety division to obtain my official parking permit--yay! At 8 a.m. Boo!) I got to show up at my actual workplace, for an official introduction to the building where I'd be setting up shop, so to speak. This was given by the man in charge of programs and operations, and included both me and the other new employee joining the staff at the same time (a research scientist whom I coincidentally met at the previous day's shindig).

We went over what you'd expect: a thorough description of the department's structure and function, as well as essential policies and procedures. And then...the Grand Tour...in which I must have been presented to, I don't know, it seemed like at least 50 people, although I can't be entirely sure...I guess let's just go with "a whole lotta colleagues" and leave it at that. My head was seriously swimming by the end, and I'm not gonna remember half their names until I've met them several more time...but everyone seemed lovely!

Ay yi yi...where are we now? Oh yeah, Wednesday. I had permission to show up at 9 (Whoo hoo! I don't know exactly why, but what a difference that half-hour makes...) for a quick confab with IT to get my computer running properly, then a longer chat with one of the aforementioned delightful coworkers I'll be directly supporting in my endeavors. She went over lots of the nitty gritty specifics about what I'll be doing not only on a daily basis, but also in the course of each academic year. So, with all of the data trickling in from various sources, I'm slowly forming a picture of what my position will look like and how it will function. Good times.

Thursday I was not expected to put in an appearance, because my presence was requested again on Friday morning. That's one quirky aspect of my role: it's budgeted for an exact number of hours a week, and I'm required to log that many--no more or less. Thus there was some impromptu adding on Wednesday to see where I stood, and determine how long I could come in for on the last day of the week. (Fun math! LOL...)

It turned out that I was available for about a half-day, so I was able to attend the 8 a.m. meeting (again with the crack of dawn...at least as far as MY body clock goes--sheesh!) I was supposed to observe--as well as clean out, organize, and set up my cubicle the way I wanted it. I mean, scrounging around in the supply closet for sticky notes and pens and such, stocking one of my desk drawers with my secret stash of healthy snacks, scoping out where to best display a couple of family photos...you know the drill. (And it was oh so satisfying, I'm not gonna lie...) All too soon, though, 12:30 rolled around and I had to skedaddle, after fulfilling my quota for Week 1.

All kidding aside, it felt like a solid first week back in the old Rat Race, if you will. Moving forward, I should be able to set a pretty regular schedule....without having to include early mornings, for the most part, which is a goshdarn blessing. And I'll be learning on-the-go about what my duties will be, and how to perform them, so I'm looking forward to that being interesting and stimulating. In short, I'm grateful to have been chosen for this opportunity, thrilled to be kicking off a new adventure, and excited for what's to come. Here goes nothin'!

Looking forward to restoring the WORK/Life balance

Well, folks, it took a whoooole looooot longer than I anticipated/hoped, but I am pleased to finally announce that (drumroll)...I'll finally be rejoining the working world next Monday. (Pause for a collective "Yaaaaayyyy!" Thank you for playing along...) For those stat-oriented pals (or just, you know, fellow nerds), my tenure as a "lady of leisure" (more like "woman doing errands and getting stuff done and taking care of business"...but whatever) lasted from January through October, although I began scanning the job boards before that, so the actual hunt comprised more like 13 months. (I know, right? YIKES!) By my unofficial count, I submitted applications for about 43 openings. Admittedly, some were more serious than others...and a few were downright unsuitable, but my basic strategy was to attempt to balance my somewhat picky requirements with a desire to keep an open mind about what might be the Next Big Adventure along my ever-evolving career path.

Further analysis revealed (because...well, I'm not even going to try to make up an excuse. If you know me, just nod your head sagely and indulge my whims...as you always do...), the following breakdown of responses: 30% generated no reply whatsoever; about 7% withdrew their posting for one reason or another; 44% selected someone else (but did inform me); for about 7%, we came to a mutual agreement that we weren't the best fit for each other; 14% I decided to turn down for one reason or another--either after additional consideration on my part about specific aspects of the position, or requesting pertinent details not included in the original description that ended up ruling it out, such as salary (too low) or number of hours (too high). (Yes, I'm well aware that doesn't add up to an even 100%. What can I tell you? I promised data, but I never said it would be perfect, did I? Remember, I'm a word-person!) Furthermore, I figured out (by going back and counting, of course...because why not, we've come this far) that my explorations fell into the following broad categories: non-profits (7), businesses (5), arts/leisure (11) and...education (a whopping 20. And who's surprised? Right...absolutely no one...)

Along the way, I interviewed with several of the potential organizations, which--while always admittedly nerve-wracking--felt like valuable experience in every case. These interactions ran the gamut from initial screening calls (the absolute worst, because anyone who's at all familiar with me is well acquainted with how much I loathe talking on the phone) to Skype conferences (tons better in my opinion, because I so very much prefer being able to see who I'm conversing with) to in-person chatting with a committee. (A special kind of terror. As in, "You mean I have to impress not just one person, but a whole group is going to be evaluating me at once? Ack!)

Also, to facilitate the whole..."reinventing myself yet again and trying to figure out what to do next with my life" process...I hired a consultant for a long-overdue update of my resume. I mean, I'd written the current one myself, and it was...fine, I guess...but it certainly didn't scream "professional quality". Besides, I can't claim any expertise whatsoever in terms of how employers deal with hiring in the Digital Age--such as what buzzwords search engines will flag as desirable, or how to get your materials to stand out to a busy HR person looking to weed out documents quickly while elevating others they want to pursue. All of this can rapidly become overwhelming, so I chucked it to someone who knows what they're doing, and let her work her magic. I found that, not only did I get a customizable CV and cover letter, she also guided me in identifying and focusing my objectives, which in turn helped me home in on opportunities that appealed to me.  In summary: money well spent, and I highly recommend it!

So by now you're probably thinking "Enough babbling about the journey of self-discovery, blah blah blah. How about some facts?" Okay, here goes: after 5 years in Chapel Hill, I'll finally be partaking of the Carolina-blue punch...and jumping on the UNC bandwagon. (Memo to my Duke homies: don't hate! I literally live 3 miles from campus, so it's kind of a no-brainer...) Specifically, it's an administrative role in the Family Medicine department. Beyond that, they explained to me that it's a newly identified need for them in this coordinator-type slot, so there will be a certain amount of...making it up as we go along. Which is to say that I can't provide a whole lot of hard info yet--beyond that I'll be managing paperwork, scheduling, and communications, and offering overall support to keep the residency program running smoothly, which will also include facilitating operations during the recruiting season (which is, um..."now") and visiting the 2 off-site clinics periodically, among other ongoing duties.

It's hard to explain--either you function this way or you don't--but through each step that got me closer to this job, it just felt right...in an instinctive way, if you will. This isn't to say that I make all of my major personal decisions based on what my "gut" is telling me...but I've found over the course of my life that when it does speak up, it's usually steering me in a positive direction, and it's in my best interests to listen. So needless to say I'm super-excited to get this old ball rolling. By this time next week I'll be donning my office clothes, packing my lunch, and heading off to vocational fulfillment...or what have you. And then presumably there will be actual details about the tasks involved, my coworkers, etc. Stay tuned for the next Employment Report...yippee!

Autumn wandering and pondering

Last Friday Mother Nature in her infinite wisdom saw fit to gift us with an utterly glorious Fall day. You know the kind I'm talking about, right--when the sparkling sunshine and refreshingly cool(ish) air emit a siren's call, urging you to get the heck outside and enjoy the season while it lasts. My trusty camera and I try not to ignore this summons, if at all possible. Plus, I'd gotten some good news on the job front earlier in the week, which if it came through would mean a temporary suspension of my beloved Friday Field Trips...all the more reason to hop in the Subaru and head out for a jaunt.

Choosing a destination caused me a bit of a dilemma, however. What I really wanted was to peep some colorful foliage...but we're still just a tad early for that in this neck of the woods, so to speak. For reasons not entirely clear to me, my...I don't know...internal compass, maybe?...was leaning toward North for this journey, and I knew I wanted to keep it within about an hour's travel time. (Hey, I'm doing my best to explain my process...or whatever. But you certainly never heard me promise it was going to make all that much sense! I mean, have you MET me?) So without any other firm parameters, I turned to ye olde map--yes, the paper variety--in conjunction with ye newfangled Google to come up with a plan.

Which is how I came to be navigating toward the borough known as (drumroll, please) Yanceyville. Getting there was fairly simple, consisting of 30 miles or so on rural highways. The only real issue I experienced--and it's super-sad, so prepare yourselves to sympathize--was that I witnessed evidence of a tragic local epidemic afflicting a great number of the area's population. I'm talking of course about the dreaded "Pants on Fire Syndrome"...since my fellow drivers repeatedly crossed dotted yellow lines as soon as they spotted the smallest possible break in oncoming traffic to whiz past me, even when I was already clocking in at about 5-10 mph over the limit. I sincerely hope they get the help they need...or a HUGE ticket...whichever.

Besides that, I had ample opportunity to appreciate the scenery...because trust me when I tell you there were few places designated as "towns" along the way...and even with these, you had to infer from a battered sign and perhaps a couple of dilapidated structures that might once have been businesses or homes. Meanwhile, the landscape on either side of the pavement alternated between dense forest and wide-open, rolling farmland--dotted with charming yellow caution signs calling your attention to the distinct possibility of tractors in the roadway!

So I found myself wondering, as I always do when I happen upon these remote locations: where do people work? Do all of the kids go to that ONE school I passed? Related question: how do young people amuse themselves around here? And perhaps most importantly, how freakin' far do folks have to trek to get groceries? (In case you think I might be exaggerating about how removed from civilization I was, I fell victim to one of the unthinkable inconveniences of modern-day explorers...that is, my playlist shut down when I lost any semblance of a WiFi signal. See? Told you!)

And then I arrived in Yanceyville, which at least holds the distinction of being the county seat...since 1792, evidently....and therefore boasts a lovely white stone courthouse, dating from 1861...in the center of its one-and-only block. Seriously, you can stand in front of this spot, turn your head left and right, and capture absolutely everything there is see in the 'burb. Oh, except the arboretum tucked behind the municipal building, which is where I began my leisurely stroll. Not unexpectedly, it didn't take much time to cover the small garden, but it did offer a pleasant interlude amongst the hearty flowers and trees still holding onto their bloom and leaves in late October.

The site also contains a historic jailhouse (built late 18- or early-1900s, in use until the 1970s!) and school (circa 1913), both of which are nicely preserved...but only open by appointment, so I settled for photographing the outside and peeking in the windows. Finally, in the tiny park situated between the courthouse and main street there's a statue. Honestly, I heaved a mental sigh before I approached it, because I was afraid of what to expect. I prepared myself for the emotions that overwhelm me whenever I encounter a Confederate memorial--TOO MANY of which still exist in the South, always stirring up a combination of anger/nausea/disappointment when I encounter one.

According to the plaque, this particular sculpture was, in fact, erected by the Daughters of the Confederacy. The inscription was written by a minister and stresses following God's mandate to do the right thing...but still. Enough with the monuments celebrating those who fought to divide the country and continue a way of life dependent on slavery, for the love of all things holy.

Okay, deep breath, and moving on...otherwise, well...Yanceyville kind of resembles a ghost town. In terms of retail, a cursory glance and a few steps in either direction reveal a bank, a hair salon, a seed store, a bike shop, and a lawyer. Aaaannnd also a bunch of boarded up windows, or abandoned storefronts, like the super-cute coffee joint with the sheet of notebook paper taped to its door, advising that it will be "closed until further notice" in handwritten letters. Overall, a palpable aura of neglect...and decay...permeated what once might have been a quaint little one-horse-hamlet in Caswell County, North Carolina.

Whew! Sorry, drifted slightly off-course, there. Anyway, although this wasn't the most...exciting excursion...it did fulfill my desire to cruise America's byways, spend some time communing with the Great Outdoors, pick up a few educational tidbits, and pleasantly while away a free afternoon. So thank you, Yanceyville, FTW!

Fall Fun (part 2)

For the second half of Derek's Fall Break, I had to make sure we accomplished one group of tasks that has become kind of its own...strange tradition, if you will. You see, last year he showed up after 8 weeks away at school in dire need of a haircut--both because enough time had elapsed since his previous one, just before he left for the semester...and it was easier (or if you happen to have the Parental Translation App running in your brain, which automatically corrected that to "lazier",  you'd be spot-on) to go to the regular place at home, rather than figuring out how to get groomed on campus or in Columbia. Plus, Riley was on the same...shearing schedule...so it made sense to make that the first item on the weekend To Do List.

The second thing added was just as critical, but admittedly less pleasant: annual flu shots for both boys. (Don't worry, though; I'd gotten mine ahead of time, since I have to seek out a provider that carries the egg-free version. Stab-in-the-arm-without-nasty-repercussion, check! Because I could just tell you were concerned...) And last, rounding out the super-fun chores, we had (drumroll) "purchasing some pumpkins, to lend the house a dose of harvest-time flair", FTW.

TBT 2016. Babies!

So, last October, with a stroke of, I don't know...seasonal luck, or something...we stumbled upon a one-stop-shopping kind of deal. There's a retail center a few minutes from our neighborhood that contains both a Great Clips and a Harris Teeter. And we discovered to our surprise that not only did the HT boast an impressive selection of the large orange gourds, neatly arrayed in boxes on their sidewalk for one's perusal...but its pharmacy turned out to be a quick-and-easy place to obtain the vaccine.

Well...since it had gone so smoothly in our prior experience, we therefore decided to return to the scene of the...Autumn victory of 2018...or whatever...and hopefully repeat the process. The only hiccup came (because there had to be one, right?) when I approached Derek to confirm the final details of the plan. "So, we'll go Saturday morning?" I asked nonchalantly--fully expecting this to be Step One, with Step Two consisting of a haggling session over the actual departure time, given the tendency of the college student to sleep in as late as possible whenever he can. However, he immediately replied, "Sure. I need to be back by 11, though."

Folks...I confess that I was...flabbergasted by this revelation. "Um...I'm sorry, perhaps I misunderstood? You'd like to be finished...before you usually get out of bed? How does that even, you know...work?" He shot me an exasperated look and in a tone of mild disbelief answered, "I want to see the end of Gameday!" Then he proceeded to rattle off the "very important matchups" that would be taking place at noon, and 3:30, ending with, "My whole day is accounted for, Mom, so we'd better get this taken care of first thing!" (To his credit, the DUH was implied, but respectfully not stated. And to be honest, he's got a point--what was I thinking on a Saturday during the College Football Season? Seriously, I. Know. Better. But still? Siiiighhhhhh....dudes and sports, amiright?)

Anyway, that's how we found ourselves headed out much earlier than I expected, to whirlwind those errands and return to HQ before whatever the heck happens in the last half-hour of the celebrated ESPN pre-game broadcast. (I'm just being dramatic, as I'm actually well aware of the guest picker, hat shenanigans, and other assorted antics that occur on the show. Let's roll with it, 'kay?) First we took advantage of the online check-in system to eliminate the we-don't-have-time-for-this waiting, and buzzed Great Clips. (Yeah, pun intended. Sorry not sorry...) Freshly coiffed teenagers, D-O-N-E.

Then we motored over to the grocery store to get all protected from...evil viruses and whatnot. The entertainment during this portion of our activities was provided by the machine that measures your vital signs--you know the one found in almost every drugstore. The goofball brothers took turns sticking their arms in and having their blood pressure, pulse--and even weight--recorded...none of which seemed tremendously accurate, but offered them a fresh excuse to laugh at and tease each other good-naturedly while passing the time. Because heaven forbid we sit still and act our ages for 5 freakin' minutes, right? Sheesh...I swear, sometimes when they get together it's like having toddlers all over again, I tell ya... (Yet they do amuse me--though if you tell them this, I promise I will vehemently deny it.)

Finally, it was time to examine the pumpkins and pick some that we deemed sufficiently attractive to grace our steps for the next couple of weeks or so. (Halloween...or whenever the deer get bold enough to come right up to the house and munch on them. True story--they're absolutely shameless where we live...) Riley approached pretty much the first one he saw, grabbed it, and declared that he was satisfied. Incidentally, he was also the one who'd declared to me privately that "You don't have to get pumpkins just for me, Mom. I'm fine if we skip it." To which I responded, "Oh, honey. What makes you think this little field trip is about you kids? I don't care how old you guys get, porch pumpkins are non-negotiable!"

However...I might have reconsidered that stance when Derek hefted the most ginormous one he could get his arms around, turned to me with a wicked grin and a troublemaker's gleam in his eye...and inquired as to whether he could chuck it to the ground and see how much splatter it would create. Ahem...that would be a HARD NO...sweetie. Now put the  20-pound monstrosity down, and focus for 2 seconds, would you? Fortunately, it was only a short time later that he identified a more suitable option, and all we had left to do was haul them inside to pay the nice people. Success!

As the culminating event, once we get our new acquisitions safely home and arranged in position, I always use them as a backdrop for a few photos of my beloved sons. They've been around long enough to understand that their mother is going to require pictures on a regular basis, so they bow to my demands fairly gracefully. Sometimes (see "one year ago" for reference) there is an inordinate amount of horsing around, just to achieve an acceptable shot. Rarely--2019, for example--the weather plays a role, leading to the almost inconceivable scenario of both boys...standing completely motionless...calmly looking towards me...and even smiling (although if Derek could for the love of all things holy keep his eyes open when facing a camera it would be a gosh-darned miracle. I'm just sayin'...) Hmm...apparently they cooperate beautifully when they want to get inside, away from the rain. Who knew? (Tucking that away for future reference, just in case it comes in handy...)

And there you have it...a somewhat odd Fall Break agenda...but I think we nailed it. And with that, I just realized it's mid-October already. That can only mean there's a new job that must be tackled: everyone get out there and start stocking up on all the good candy! I mean, why wait for trick-or-treaters? Nah, let's hear it for...a Fortnight of Chocolate! Whoo hoo! (Patent pending. Feel free to use as desired and/or required to get through the next several weeks of dropping temperatures and fading daylight. You're welcome!)

Fall Fun (part 1, with apologies for the rhyme!)

It's been an...almost disturbingly...uneventful October thus far (hence the radio silence from this little corner of the blogosphere). Normally this month is prime time for cool(er), colorful exploring, when Summer finally begins to loosen its steamy hold, affording Fall the opportunity to reassert dominance over both the climate and the tapestry of the Great Outdoors. Yet this year I suspect--and lament--that the notable lack of rain in our region will result in an uncharacteristically dry, dull Autumn.

Even now, a glance outside reveals an oddly divided landscape. Some of the trees remain bright green and full-canopied. Others have shed their foliage without ceremony--or any variation in hue. And the remainder are covered with limp, crackly, brown leaves that just hang there, looking like they've given up on the whole idea of cooperating with the natural order of things...or what have you. So I guess what I’m saying is: not terribly scenic, as a whole.

Fortunately, an alternative distraction arrived to break up the boredom caused by the lack of leaf-peeping opportunities, in the form of one college kid, returning home for his 4-day Fall Break. (Whoo hoo!) Even better: due to the automobile now in his possession, he was able to ferry himself back, rather than needing a parent to commit 8 hours to the round-trip extraction. Furthermore, since he inconveniently has a class that doesn’t wrap up until after 7 p.m., he could just hit the road when it ended, saving his elders from the unenviable late-night commute. (Phew!)

So he texted me when he left Columbia, allowing me to calculate an approximate ETA. Not unexpectedly, I was the only one still awake to greet him…although he arrived somewhat…earlier than anticipated. (He swears he did NOT drive like the proverbial bat out of hell, but instead chalked his efficient travel time to the lack of traffic during those hours, and the fact that he opted to plow straight through without a restroom/snack break. Hmm…I suppose since there’s no speeding ticket, we’ll take his word for it? Let’s go with that….for now, at least…)

A couple of other things were different than previous visits as well--such as him showing up without any dirty laundry, since he now has a washer and dryer inside his apartment and can easily do it on his own time. Also, I posed the usual question about what errands we should tackle together during his stay, because we’re accustomed to stopping by the grocery store and/or Target, for a mid-semester restock on edibles and household goods.

But he considered for a moment, then shrugged and said, “Nah, I’m okay.” Aahh, right…I’m not yet totally used to this new reality--that having access to a vehicle means he can take care of those supply runs whenever the need arises, without waiting for the Mom assist. (Yay for independence and adulting!)

Not having chores to deal with provided Derek with some well-earned downtime, away from his academic pursuits, as well as a chance to enjoy some leisure activities with his beloved family…like catching up on personal news, watching playoff baseball…and taking a fabulous Fall Break Friday Field Trip with yours truly. The forecast called for a warm, sunny, all-around gorgeous day, so I proposed we pop over to the NC Museum of Art, which boasts not only exhibits inside the buildings, but a lovely campus dotted with outdoor installations along a pedestrian path that meanders throughout the grounds. 

Being the easygoing kid he is, he readily agreed to the proposal, and off we went to Raleigh for an afternoon of culture…and stuff. Now, I won’t claim that either of us is remotely an art critic…or even particularly well-educated in the realm of sculpture, or painting, or any other kind of medium, for that matter. We simply amuse ourselves by walking around, examining whatever catches our eye, discussing pieces we happen to either appreciate or dislike…and occasionally standing in front of a display with our jaws on the floor, stunned by something absurd/hideous/offensive/inexplicable. Hey, art is subjective, right? We sometimes have strong opinions….but regardless of how we feel about the…expression…we never fail to have a great time taking it all in, so….WIN!

 

Besides, after we finished the enclosed portion of the museum, we were able to take a delightful stroll around the outskirts of the park. Then, having achieved our educational--and incidentally, also our daily step--goals, we refocused on a different, but equally important objective: LUNCH! A bit further into the city, adjacent to NC State University, we found one of our trusted go-to eateries…Chipotle. (I didn’t say we were food snobs, did I?)

Well, folks, it was an altogether satisfying outing--the stellar weather, the excellent company…the chance to bond over sharing our unqualified evaluations of artistic prowess. And while it’s true that I am loooong past my own undergrad days, I still say, let’s hear it for Fall Break: good times!

Trying something new...kind of...

I began my personal journey as a runner waaaay back at the tender age of 15. Honestly, it kind of still boggles my mind a little bit. You see, I wasn’t what you’d call a particularly athletic kid at that point, but for reasons that remain 100% baffling to me, I got it in my head that it would be cool to…play field hockey. (The only thing I’ve ever been able to speculate is that I had many friends on the team, so they made it sound fun, and I wanted to join them? Because sprinting around and whacking other girls with sticks seemed like a hella good time? I’ve always wished I could go back in time and ask my teenage self what the HECK I was thinking…but I digress…)

So to give you a snapshot of adolescent me, near the end of Freshman year in High School: walking: definitely okay. Riding my bike: sure, no problem. But…picking up the pace to approximate even a, you know, “slow jog”…NOT in my toolbox. As I recall, all these years later, (so I could totally be making it up or mis-remembering, but just go with me on this, ‘kay?) I mentioned my tentative plan to one of the aforementioned pals at lunch one day, and she responded with a vehement, “Okay. Start running now.”

Taken aback by both the conviction with which she delivered this--unsavory, to my somewhat sedentary self--message, and the actual idea of starting a several-month regimen of pre-tryout-training, I asked her whhhhyyy. Her reply was succinct and vivid, “So you don’t throw up at August practices.” Well…alrighty, then. I took her at her word, shrugged, and and went “Eh…guess I’m a runner…type…girl now.” (BTW, her advice was SPOT-ON. Late Summer workouts, in a word, “sucked” due to the heat and humidity that hadn’t yet loosened their grip on our region, combined with the brutally demanding drills our sadistic (kidding) coach set for us. I huffed and puffed, sweated, and griped along with all the other players...but I did NOT puke. So…win? Yeah, why not…)

The point of this convoluted story is that--with the exception of minor injuries here and there in the intervening decades that have interrupted my routine for relatively short periods of time in the grand scheme of things--I’ve been running ever since. Sure, the format has changed on occasion…for example, I realized in my 20s, when I was pounding the pavement as my sole form of exercise, that if I still wanted to, I don’t know…WALK…in years to come, I’d need to mix it up with other forms of movement. I joke that I have to be one of the OG cross-trainers, because I went from exclusively jogging, to an eclectic program of walking, biking, fitness classes (hello, 80s step aerobics…you were super-entertaining for a while) and even (eventually) strength conditioning.

In short, this probably saved my knees--which one day might still degenerate to the point that my father’s have, no matter how much I do to prevent it…but…and I cannot stress this enough…not this decade, you (only moderately cranky) old joints!

Now, you might be wondering at this juncture why I never took the next logical step, if you will, and just moved my running habit from the sidewalks, onto softer surfaces. The answer is actually fairly simple: ever since I first set sneakers to asphalt, my natural stride has been a forefoot strike. (Yes, even in cleats. Hence my hockey nickname: “the twinkletoes back”. Trust me, it’s kind of difficult to be all “fierce, intimidating warrior woman” with that stuck to you…but I did my best….) And my sports career on grass fields quickly taught me that uneven terrain and I…are not besties, since my uncooperative ankles have a disturbing tendency to turn when they encounter a pothole, bump, or basically any other minor malformation of the turf.

Okay, fast forward to the present. (I know, right: thank goodness she’s probably, maybe, hopefully getting to the murky purpose of this little trip down memory lane.) The house we chose when Team WestEnders relocated to NC sits right next to a lovely piece of forested land, criss-crossed with many paths used by outdoor enthusiasts of all kinds. I myself take long rambles in there, amongst the trees, quite frequently. However, the trails--while utterly scenic and delightful--are left in their natural state, aside from some weed clearing to keep them passable. This translates to copious amounts of rocks, roots, branches, etc.--in park terms, essentially an…ungroomed geographic situation.

As we’ve already established, for me this would just be a broken bone, sprain--or at the very least, face plant--waiting to happen. So I accept my limitations, and keep it to a brisk stroll when enjoying the woods. But then… some bootcamp buddies mentioned an upcoming event, whose name caught my attention: the Zen Squirrel Trail Race. And….the logo is a cute little creature in a yoga pose. I mean, c’mon…how could you NOT want an article of clothing with that adorableness on it? And yet…there remains the sticky issue of me…and off-road trotting…and the potential for injury/maiming/death. (Right, not the last one, most likely. But who needs to take that chance, amiright?) 

However, one of our bootcamp gang mentioned that she was going to sign up for the 2-mile option…and take it at a walking pace (due to similar concerns as mine…namely “falling down”). Suddenly it appeared that I might have a reasonable excuse to participate after all…plus a partner with whom I could share the inevitable “last place finish”. (Because, who cares? It’s All. About. The Shirt.)

You know where this is going, right? Of course I registered for that bad boy (and reserved my tee…whee!). Also of interest to me, it was happening in a place I’d never been before--a huge, swanky neighborhood on the outskirts of Chapel Hill. Furthermore, on race day I discovered that the development hosting the shindig boasted some pretty sweet paths for its residents’ recreational use. I’m talking wide, decently smooth, and obviously kept in excellent condition.

Traveling along these tracks after the starting gun sent us off, my fellow amblers and I encountered a plethora of cheerful volunteers, pointing the way in a most helpful manner (thereby preventing any chance of rogue wanderers straying and becoming lost, because no one likes to misplace a participant, ya know?). Bonus: because we weren’t zipping past them, they made an extra effort to greet us with some encouraging words and a bit of friendly chatter as well. (Or maybe they secretly felt sorry for the Back-of-the-Pack. Eh, we had chosen our fate, and were fine with it…or whatever…)

As a matter of fact, I’d have to say that the overall support was really stellar. For example, they had people stationed at the finish line, holding clipboards with the roster of entrants, checking bib numbers and matching them to their list….so that when you crossed, they could congratulate you…BY NAME. Seriously, I was so startled when I heard someone yell “Good job, Johna--way to go!” that I almost tripped. (Honestly….made it through the hard part, yet nearly wiped out by an unexpected shower of kindness. Only me…) And don’t get me started on the buffet waiting for hungry finishers. Breakfast burritos and outstanding coffee from a local cafe, chips, granola bars, trail mix, fresh fruit, cookies, an assortment of cold beverages…it was impressive…generous…and yummy.

So…to wrap up…(Warning! Dangerous, possibly ill-advised scheme hatching) as I meandered the prescribed route laid out by the organizers, chatting and sauntering along, it occurred to me that it might just be a tame enough trail to consider…attempting to…run it next year.

Yeah, yeah…GASP! Have you even been listening to yourself? What are you thinking? Does someone need to smack you upside the head? Folks, these are all perfectly valid questions (that I’m going to pretend you asked, so it doesn’t seem like I’m talking to myself. Which almost…never…happens. Or…I do it all the time… so what?) The way I see it, I have another 11 months or so to either commit to this cockamamie notion--or discard it as ridiculous. Either way, I’mma be out there next September, earning another piece of apparel adorned with a peaceful…yard pest. So let’s hear it: meditating rodents FTW, y’all!

A tale of transportation...

I think it was about a year ago--when Derek had a job and Riley was getting his Learner's Permit--that I first broached the subject of acquiring another vehicle for Team WestEnders. Thanks to the older son, this quickly earned the moniker Operation TFC (Third Family Car...catchy, right?). However, Husband was vehemently opposed at the time, insisting it was unnecessary, we could manage without, blah blah blah. Regardless of the dissension in the ranks, if you will, I went ahead and searched for one anyway, but I wasn't able to locate anything that met some pretty strict criteria (more on that later), so eventually I gave up in defeat...at least temporarily.

Fast forward to the myriad logistical difficulties the college kid is currently experiencing: living off-campus in a complex with an inconveniently limited, unreliable shuttle...situated in an area lacking retail options, and not served by city buses...and too far away to walk to school. Suddenly, when faced with the possibility of disasters such as, I don't know, "failing Organic Chemistry" (if unable to join extra study sessions on weekends) or "starving" (if prevented from obtaining supplemental food to get through non-dining-hall hours) Husband took a running leap right the heck on over to the TFC Club.

Alrighty, then, let’s get to it, shall we? Now, some of the preferred parameters for this automobile remained the same from my first go-around. For example, we agreed that we were seeking a 4-door, medium-sized, sedan-type non-gas-guzzler. And we weren’t particularly picky about the model year, as long as it came with as low mileage as possible.

Ironically, the one thing Husband and I had to haggle about was how much moolah we were willing--and seemed reasonable--to spend. Because the previous Mr. “why pay for something we don’t need” flipped his tune and became all “let’s get one that’ll last through the rest of Derek’s undergraduate career…and then Riley’s as well!” Meanwhile, as the Household Financial Manager I had to talk him down off the…Precipice of Extravagance…and rein his ambitions back into the more boring….yet comfortable…Realm of Affordability.

Anyway, once we settled on a hard budget cap, we started hitting up good old Carmax to see what was available. And the disappointing answer was…not a whole lot, at our price point. So I decided to explore other avenues, such as AAA; I knew they offered a car buying service, but I had no idea what it entailed. Well, apparently you call them, have a one-on-one conversation with a representative about what you’re in the market for...and they try to find it for you.

From what I gathered in talking with my new friend Larry, they check their existing inventory, which is comprised of trade-ins from AAA members. One obvious advantage of using an organization like this is that they’re staking their reputation on providing valuable benefits to their paying constituency. Also, they’ve obviously built their entire business empire around motorized transportation, so presumably they’re going to employ folks with lots of expertise in that area. All of this inspires confidence--as did my interaction with Larry, who was a wealth of information gained over 20-some years of automotive industry experience.

Whew! Then we just crossed our fingers and waited for Big L to contact us with some good news…which he did, several days later. He sent me links to 4 contenders…3 of which we dismissed immediately (2 small SUVs and a V6 Lexus…uh, no thanks!). But the fourth…was a Honda Civic…which is kind of what we were hoping for anyway, to be honest. It ticked all the important boxes, so once Larry gave it his personal thumbs-up…we just had to put down a deposit over the phone, and it would be ours!

Seriously--as long as you’re okay with trusting AAA, and purchasing a car without personally driving it yourself, it cannot be easier to do it this way. They serviced, washed, and filled it up with gas…and drove it to our house (from the central office…in Charlotte!). They even file all the paperwork for you, so (GET THIS, y’all) I don’t even have to Set. Foot. In the DMV, since everything will come to us in the mail. That itself might be worth the price of admission, as they say…whoo hoo!

So there we were after the delivery dude left…proud new owners of the shiny 2010 Civic in our driveway. (Incidentally, I immediately dubbed it Marshmallow, because…well, just look at it, guys. How could you NOT? Derek naturally disagreed…adamantly. But in my head? Marshmallow from now on…you can’t stop me…don’t even try….) Larry had told me it was a proverbial “little old lady” car, and after inspecting it myself, I totally believe him. This thing is in pristine condition, and you’d never guess it was 9 years old (except maybe for the fact that it has a CD player…LOL!).

After we informed Derek--who was over the moon with happiness and relief and gratitude when he heard--the next task was clearly to get the 4-wheeled white wonder down to Columbia. (Ooh…Wonder Bread! Another solid potential nickname!) I’ll spare you the absolutely dizzying array of methods we considered and just give you the winner: I would convey…Caspar the Civic (Yeah! I’m en fuego, amigos…) to South Carolina, spend a few hours with my child (feeding him, of course), and then catch a bus back north. This leg of the journey would end in Raleigh, where Husband would pick me up and whisk me the rest of the way back to Chapel Hill. The only speed bump in this agenda? The fastest carrier had only one route a day leaving from anywhere near UofSC…at 8 p.m. It therefore would roll into the Triangle around midnight, with another 40 minutes required to finish the trek home. Um…yaaaay for…adventure? Suuuure, we’ll go with that… 

I passed a mostly pleasant and uneventful 4 hours on the road to the Other Carolina, after which I enjoyed an enthusiastic reunion with Derek. We had several hours at our disposal to catch up, address To Do items (mainly procuring parking passes for the apartment and university lots), take advantage of the uncharacteristically temperate weather to meander the Riverwalk near his complex, and grab dinner and a post-meal stroll in town, before heading to the bus rendezvous point.

You see, this was not a “Greyhound station” kind of deal. The cut-rate company that I bravely signed up for had us convening in a parking lot…near a somewhat shady looking establishment called…Flaming Grill Supreme Buffet. (I swear, I couldn’t make this up if I tried, people…) The operator had a piece of paper with what appeared to be hastily scribbled confirmation numbers that he checked off when you showed him your ticket. Also, he didn’t seem to speak much English. But when I hesitantly inquired as to whether there was a bathroom on the bus, he was able to tell me I could use the one in the restaurant (which turned out to be--not surprisingly--fairly nasty).

Folks, I’m not gonna lie…while part of me was giggling internally at the somewhat preposterous state of affairs I’d voluntarily gotten myself into…another, more rational portion was recoiling in horror and wondering whether I’d actually survive this odyssey. Derek and I shared a brief chuckle about how--whatever the corporation is actually called--if they had any interest in being transparent with their clients, it should be known as… Sketchy Bus. Then he sobered up enough to make me promise to text him when I arrived. (Proving the adage that there’s a first time for everything…also an amusing turnabout of the parent/child relationship…if not for the palpable sense of impending doom…or what have you…)

So I entered the Coach of No Return (literally, since I was going one-way--thank heavens!), picked a seat, and settled down for the duration. The interior was…threadbare….maybe clean? Hard to tell, honestly…and smelled ever-so-faintly of cigarettes and pee (which at least for the smoke odor could have been attributed to some of the other riders, since they darted outside to get their nicotine fix every time we stopped. I have no comment about the other…aroma…). The website boldly promised Wi-Fi, but the signal was never good enough for me to watch videos on my phone, so that was a bust. (I know, I know: my expectations should reeeaaallly have been MUCH lower by now…)  

Although we pulled into gas stations approximately every hour to take on more passengers, I suppose the one thing I was thankful for was the fact that I never had to give up the empty seat next to me, where I’d placed my backpack for easy access. Otherwise, it was…an interesting expedition…which I plan to NEVER repeat. Obviously I accomplished my mission, and triumphantly disembarked at yet another fill-up-joint in Raleigh--which was lit up like a carnival, with pop tunes blasting from the outside speakers…at 12:10 a.m. It just put the cap on a whole night of surreal, I’m tellin’ ya…

But my Uber--I mean Husband--was there to rescue me from the weird, listen to me rant about all the nonsense I’d encountered, and most critically, ferry me to my cozy bed after a hella long day of travel. It was a mighty quest, to bring Sir Sophomore his snowy steed. (Snowball! Jeez, there’s another one! Someone turn off my brain now…) But now, we A-L-L get to reap the rewards of an independently mobile student: not only can he attend to his personal and academic needs in and around his neighborhood, but he can chauffeur himself back and forth from breaks, without a parental unit having to commit 8 hours for the round-trip. In short, everyone WINS! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some sleep to catch up on…please cross your fingers with me, in hopes that I’m not plagued by nightmares of creepy death buses…thankyouverymuch!

Row, row, row your...(insert preferred water vehicle) gently around the...lake!

Undaunted by the fact that in our modern era Labor Day signals the sentimental end of Summer, our merry little band of intrepid Bootcamp Adventurers nevertheless pushed bravely forward with a September Field Trip. After all, Mother Nature follows her own schedule, regardless of the calendar--and around here, that means we know to expect the sweltering weather to continue unabated for probably about another month anyway. So why not take ourselves to a nearby lake for some on-the-water fun-in-the-sun?

I was especially excited about this one, since we'd be renting out a transportation mode of choice: either a kayak or a paddleboard. I've been keen to try the latter for some time now, so I squashed down a (small, manageable amount of) trepidation, slathered on sunblock, perched my hat jauntily on my head to shade my eyes, hiked up my big-girl bathing suit, and gave it a shot.

Why the slight misgivings, you might wonder? Well you see, I'm not what you'd call...the splash-around-without-a-care...mermaid type. I mean, I can swim...it's just that there's something about being in an open expanse of water that makes me a bit nervous. So when they informed us that you were required to take a life jacket with you, whether you chose to leave it sitting next to you or wear it, you can bet I clipped that puppy on immediately. Admittedly I felt mildly foolish...but also tons more secure...so it was clearly a worthy trade-off, for me at least.

Then I could relax about the safety issue, and focus on the more important matter at hand: figuring out what the HECK I was supposed to be doing up on that big old slab of fiberglass. Okay, let's see, here. Slide it into the shallows, fin up: check. Take it out to about knee-deep and flip it over: check. Place butt in approximate correct location (as instructed by our Fearless Leader, whose guidance was invaluable to this newbie, by the way). And now, folks, for the truly tricky step...carefully, slowly...rise to standing.

Needless to say, some wobbling occurred while hauling myself from a seated to an upright position...while adjusting to the rocking of an object on an uneven surface. Thus I was soooo pleased with myself upon achieving Homo Erectus status--for about a second, until the next challenge of, you know, "moving". Now I just had to maintain my posture while propelling myself with an oar taller than me, switching it from side to side to go forward, rather than in circles. Hah! No problem, yeah? Sure...until I forgot, somehow, that I was bobbing on an expanse of liquid, and blithely turned my torso to photograph one of our buddies in action. Holy Rock the Boat, Batman, that was a near-dunking situation, right there! Message received: face front at all times, and keep excess twitching to a minimum! (I was still able to snap pictures, just much more cautiously...)

Honestly, the most difficult aspect was that I'm not naturally possessed of a set of "sea legs", if you know what I mean? Thus, in order to feel like I was firmly anchored on my floating conveyance, I found myself gripping the board with my toes, and keeping my calf and quad muscles tensed...which over time causes some serious fatigue, as you can imagine. Add to that the repetitive upper body motion of pushing the paddle through the H2O, and you have one heck of a full-body workout, my friends! Oh, and also, a SUPER-FREAKIN'-AWESOME experience.

After our entire group had ventured out away from the shore--evenly divided between kayakers and SUPers--we were free to meander wherever our hearts desired, for our 2-hour recreational window. So we chatted, and glided...and occasionally plopped down and rested (as shown!), and a couple of courageous folks vacated their crafts to swim for a while. I did not...mostly because I was concerned about how much trouble I might have getting back on the board from the water. However, I did get to practice lowering myself down and getting back up, which was very useful!

Let me tell ya, it was an altogether delightful way to spend a Saturday morning. Bonus time with some of my favorite fitness pals...a stunningly warm and sunny late-season weather gift, introduction to a new skill, invigorating physical activity in the Great Outdoors, an abundance of fresh air and a temperate lake. Have I missed anything? Oh yeah, the greatest part of all: I. Did. NOT. Fall. In! We're already talking about our next outing, since several people who wanted to join us couldn't, due to schedule conflicts. Hopefully we'll get back out there before too long, so I retain some of what I learned, and don't have to start all over again. How about I just consider it a journey toward earning my water sports badge...one stroke at a time!

So far, I'd give us...a solid B? (With room for improvement...)

Since the teenage members of Team WestEnders have found themselves back in the hallowed halls of learning...or what have you...for a couple of weeks now, it seems like a good time for an update on the early school year shenanigans.

Let's start with the undergraduate, since his semester kicked off first. First of all, you might recall that he needed to make a schedule change, since one of his evening classes wrapped up later than his apartment complex's shuttle bus stopped running, which would obviously make it difficult for him to return home afterwards. With no time to spare before the opening bell, as it were, he did manage to secure a meeting with an academic adviser, and was able to simply switch to another section of the same subject, in an earlier time slot. This allowed him to stay on track with the requirements for his major, without derailing the timeline in any way. Whew!

However...in one of our Sunday conversations, he confessed that his troubles in that particular area of study might be just beginning. You see, it's Organic Chemistry. (Was that a collective groan I heard? For a topic with a well-earned a reputation for being notoriously challenging--even amongst us non-science-y types?) The way he described it, "It's the first time I've ever felt like I have an equal chance of failing the class, as I do of passing it." Well...yikes, dude! Revving right into full-blown Mom/Nerd Squad mode, I immediately queried him as to whether there would be opportunities for support outside of classroom hours. He replied that there would indeed be tutoring meetups...but that they were generally set for Sundays.

Aaaannnd, this leads us neatly to our next thorny issue: sometime during the first week of being back on campus, Derek discovered that the aforementioned transportation that travels back and forth between his residence and the university....doesn't run on weekends. (I know, right? What the WHAT? How freakin' not-helpful is that?) This impacts not only his ability to attend those Chem groups, but also other important aspects of his life, such as getting to a dining hall to enjoy that delightful meal plan we paid for (with the goal of making his life easier...ha!). Oh, and also using the library, the student rec center for workouts, etc.

Add to this the fact that--as I confirmed for myself when helping him move in--there is literally nothing within walking distance of his apartment, and according to Derek, their street isn't included on public bus routes because it's technically just outside the city limits. This means that the simple act of obtaining stuff like, you know, "food" and "personal care items" requires waiting for a roommate or buddy to plan a trip, and asking to tag along for the ride--not ideal, to say the least. In short, given this host of newly identified logistical difficulties tied to the off-campus lifestyle, Husband and I are scrambling to revisit the idea of providing a vehicle for the college dude. After all, it really is the little things that matter...succeeding at Chemistry so you only have to suffer through it once...being able to chow down at regular and consistent intervals...and maintaining a socially acceptable level of cleanliness and hygiene!

Anyway, it sounds as though the rest of his courses should be benign. For example, he sounded positively gleeful when discussing Finite Math, since at the first session, he noticed what he determined to be a fair number of athletes (basing his conclusion on their physical attributes and sporty clothing, so take that with a big old grain of salt. I'm not saying he's wrong, however, as he has good instincts for this kind of thing...). To him, this marks it as a "shadow class"--to those unfamiliar with NCAA scandals in recent years, this typically signifies easy subject matter...and high grades...populated by players wanting to pad their transcripts...without working very hard.

On the other hand, he spent several minutes talking about his Psychology professor, who apparently speaks 5 languages, has earned multiple Ph.D.s, and when not teaching, runs her own clinic. Day-um! Too bad it's so far away, because I'd love to sit in on that one! (As if that wouldn't utterly mortify my child...eh, whatever...maybe she offers an online version? Mwah hah hah...)

And speaking of trauma (not really, but I lacked a segue and decided to be lazy), shall we move on to Riley's Junior year? (Ack! Still not used to saying that, nor quite ready to process it as reality...yet we must take a deep breath and forge ahead...) He and I did chat (okay, "debate"...but politely!) at length about the courses he wanted to register for this year. But that was waaaay back in, like, March, so I'd honestly forgotten what his preferred schedule would look like, by the time the actual placements were made and the information was released to the students in late August. As it happened, the AP Physics he tried to get into wasn't offered, due to insufficient enrollment. Since that was supposed to be a 2-period affair, the Powers That Be instead plugged Riley's 2 alternates into the empty spaces.

Would you believe that we'd never experienced this phenomenon before, since Derek invariably got all of his Top 7, every year? So it was a new situation for us, when Riley's daily agenda came back with the addition of...AP Statistics (hmm, an extra math he was planning to take as a Senior anyway...I suppose that's fine) and also AP Environmental Science...joining the AP Lang(uage), APUSH (U.S. History), and AP Chem on his first-ballot selections. Even on paper, from the outside looking in rather than the person who was actually going to have to keep up with all this material, this seemed like...rather a lot.

Riley came home after the first day back, went straight into his workout routine, then disappeared into his bedroom afterwards without so much as a peep. I heard papers rustling, and what sounded like frustrated muttering, so I poked my head in to cautiously test the prevailing atmosphere, if you will. He raised his head, fixed me with a slightly wild-eyed expression, and declared, "I've gotta change my schedule. I can't do this. It's gonna KILL me!" In case I'd somehow failed to appreciate the full force of his previous statement, he tacked on, "I thought about taking AP Lang and APUSH and APES in the same year, and I just went, 'Hell, no!'" Now, you may not know Riley, but let me inform you that this was the Very. First. Time I'd EVER heard him utter even that most mild of innocuous swear words in my presence. Clearly, it was time to leap into action and talk this kid down from the proverbial ledge, I tell ya.

Once I'd assured him I was 100% on his side, and recognized the wisdom in postponing APES until 12th grade, I gently mentioned that the least disruptive way to avoid messing with his otherwise acceptable sequence of periods and array of teachers was to simply fill the empty hour with...a handy-dandy Study Hall. And whattya know...he agreed with me! The reason it's such a big deal--and so amusing to me--is because I've literally been suggesting that he allow some downtime in the rigorous study plan he arranges for himself...for 3 solid years. Then Derek and I had a good laugh about this together, because he was the self-proclaimed King of Study Hall, taking full advantage of the opportunity to pad his academic day...all the way through Senior year.

So Riley submitted the change form immediately (with a lengthy, well-written explanation for why this particular mix of subjects wasn't a good fit, etc...which I'm sure entertained the counselors, when they're probably used to "because it's too hard" or "I don't like it"), got approved, and was able to seamlessly transition to his new agenda by the second day. Crisis. Averted. (Oh, and sanity preserved...for all of us!)

And there you have it: a brand new term with everybody getting all edu-ma-cated...and stuff. There are still a few kinks to work out, obviously, but all-in-all, I think we're off to a strong start. And now, we've arrived at the weekend...so excuse me while I go read something totally for fun, or better yet, watch some trashy TV. Whoo hoo for Adult Homework! (Wait, that sounds bad...but you know what I mean! Hulu, here I come...)