Amateur Reader

Supposedly, I'm a "reader." I've been in a book club, read MANY books in college, and thoroughly enjoyed the entire Baby-Sitters Club series in the nineties (obviously, my fate was sealed early on in life). I even held a "dress as your favorite book character" themed birthday party! But we can talk about that one later. Or maybe never. Any way, some of my favorite past times are falling asleep and/or eating (not simultaneously!) while reading reading (what can I say, I detest being left alone in my thoughts during mundane tasks of survival).

Sadly, I let this hobby drop upon obtaining my bachelor's degree (and a husband). The ability to be entertained while remaining entirely passive presented itself in pretty, witty, and easily squandered half hour and hour chunks. Eating? Grab the TV tray. Trouble sleeping? TBS must be playing some movie to put you to rest. So easy! And you don't need nearly as much brain activity!

I digress.

So, my TV-watching guilt overcame me this month and resulted in two forms:

 

I've read Anne Tyler before and liked it (Digging to America). I haven't read Jhumpa Lahiri, but I know it was made into a movie, so figured these two would be the best way to segue from a passive sedentary life to an active sedentary life. Or maybe they were the only two available in the library from my never ending "to-read list" a la Goodreads.

First, The Namesake. This gets a solid 4/5 stars; I more than liked it. Lahiri presents a quick and easy read with some great poetic moments. While it feels like a stereotypical look into the life of an Indian immigrant (but what do I know, really. I guess stereotypes happen for a reason?), I still feel like I learned something more about human nature.

You can tell that her strength is short stories (Interpreter of Maladies), because at times this feels like a bunch of short stories of the same family tied together. The plot does flow (albeit bumpy at time), thanks to Lahiri's ability to set a consistent tone.

All in all, a great read.

Next up, Anne Tyler. This is her 334th book or something (I exaggerate). But seriously, the woman writes. She kept me guessing a lot with this one - trying to figure out each character, their ties to one another, background, etc. She begins in media res (in the middle of things), which almost actually lost my interest. It started of too busy and confusing for my poor, TV-ridden brain.

This isn't Anne's best. There were many times where I just wanted to give it up; HOWEVER, I'm glad I waited it out until the end. I think she hones in on a theme that we all think about - how life could/would have been different if ________ (you fill in the blank). Her characters aren't super likable, and her plot is moderately boring. Yet, her thematic genius pulls though. Not only does she focus on the aforementioned, but also on the cause and effect of self-reinvention (another overarching theme of the human race).

This one gets two out five stars from me. It was okay. But kudos for writing a bajillion books, most of which are pretty awesome.

What did you read this month? Did you like it? If you didn't read any thing, I highly recommend getting off your duff to head to the library, then get back on your duff at home.

Thanks for participating in the first edition of Amateur Reader! Who knows when it will happen again.

IT Amateur

Today my computer got a virus at work. It wanted me to either buy Viagra or a sweet spy ware package at the low cost of $49.99. It wouldn't let me do any thing else. I had to call the IT elves of ARINC to whisk my work baby away to Santa's little computer workshop. My particular IT elf, Mike, wore the uniform (all black), but didn't have the typical IT elf physique: he had some sweet tats and the build of the jolly green giant. No scrawny little white guy in these parts, my friends. Mike was biker-turned-IT god. More power to him, I say.

Any way, I was without said computer for roughly five hours. For most of these five hours, all I could do was contemplate what the workplace of old entailed (and check my e-mail/facebook/reader/weather/news/word game on my phone; but that took all of 15 minutes. Dang.).

I know people worked in offices before computers; but what in the heck did these people do all day?!

No Longer an Amateur?

Thanks, everyone, for such great feedback on the last post. It amazes me that so many people go through the same thing, and thankfully no worse for the wear. My mind wanders to the oft quoted and debated saying of "I never said it would be easy, I only said it would be worth it."

Checking out the scene upon arrival. So much to do, eat, and see!

So a couple of weekends ago I attended Springfest with my MIL and her mother (henceforth known as "Mema," pronounced "ME-MAW"). This was both easy and worth it (most of the time). We had a great time eating food you shouldn't eat all in one day: cream of crab soup, sweet potato and regular butterfly fries, sloppy joes, funnel cakes, fried veggies, crepes stuffed with whipped cream and strawberries, Fisher's caramel popcorn, and pizza. Yes, that was all consumed in less than 24 hours. Is there such a thing as shameful pride? If so, I think I just had it.

    Clockwise from upper left: butterfly fries, cream of crab soup, sloppy joe, funnel cake

In order to burn all of those evil but necessary calories, we found ourselves dancing with the AARP group to the tunes of a Rod Stewart impersonator (aka "Sir Rod") and a "rock and roll" band (aka "Ricky K. and the Allnighters). Please note, the quotations marks are intentional and critical to describing the aforementioned band.

  

  Clockwise from upper left: Sir Rod surrounded by adoring fans, an awesome little old guy dancing with a tall young lady, Ricky K. with my MIL and a guy with sweet dance moves, and my favorite dancing couple of the day (that guy looked like that all day. I promise).

We also perused endless aisles of crafts, where you can't take photos because crafters are ubiquitously fearful of other crafters cramping their style. But hey, I get it. When you find your niche, it should be yours and yours alone; especially if you can talk the early bird group into paying this month's social security check on it... or guilt their well-intentioned children/grandchildren into purchasing the latest and greatest personalized/hand carved/homemade floor mat/bird house/holistic remedy.

Just a glimpse into one of the craft tents. I'm so sneaky!

At the end of one craft aisle was a cowboy hat salesman. He was everything you'd imagine a cowboy hat salesman to be - unassuming, genuinely nice, kind of handsome, and definitely donning a cowboy hat himself. He even wore a plain Midway, UT sweatshirt (not from there, but clever marketing, I say). This guy knew what he was doing. He placed a tall rack of awesome looking red hats on the outer corner of his booth. We started trying them on, followed by purple ones, and then my MIL places a denim blue suede hat on my head. The heavens open, angels sing, and I feel complete. This hat was made for me. It fits me like my freckles. Up to this point, I've been trying on hats willy-nilly and completely unawares. Glancing at the tiny sticker tag inside, my heart drops, realizing that my freckles are free and this hat is nowhere near that price.

With many reassurances (what can I wear this with? Everything. Can I wear it when I'm forty? If you're still cool.) from both Mema and my MIL (to be sure, cowboy hat salesman watched, but there was something quite laissez-faire about him), and complete financial support from my ever-loving MIL (thanks again!), I now own the hat. THE hat, ladies and gents.

Post-purchase photo-op with the cowboy hat salesman, in his booth, along side my MIL. 

This hat changed my life. People approached me at the fest asking if I was a professional photographer (nope, just an amateur) or professional country line dancer (I country line danced once to "Elmira" for an elementary school production. Does that count?). Needless to say, I was on top of the world.

The next day, while sporting my newfound fashion statement/identity at Home Depot, the checkout guy thought I was on the hit television reality series, Survivor. Sersiouly.

I'm telling you, I can be anything in this. This is just what an amateur in everything needs for a little self esteem booster! I only wish to I could wear it while running or practicing yoga and not look utterly crazy. I could be  an award-winning marathoner! Or maybe a 500+ hour certified yoga teacher! Or a total nut job!

I prefer to simply ignore the latter, myself.

Any way, what would you want to be in you cowboy hat?

Amateur Sister

I planned on focusing this post on the events of the weekend - how in the end, I was humorously an assumed professional in everything. However, it will have to wait. With the recent arrival of a certain blessing in my family, I feel it important to explore my new role - as an amateur aunt, but more importantly my long standing role as an amateur older sister.

Granted, I've been a sister for 23 years. Unfortunately, I have yet to come close to mastering the responsibility, and am sure I will always be an amateur. I spent many of those 23 years causing fights, exhibiting anger physically, assuming the job of the boss, acting as a second mother rather than an equal sibling, all the while ignoring the needs and emotions of my family.

Admittedly, this resulted in a solid disturbance specifically between me and my sister. We never became friends. We didn't do any thing together. We didn't talk. We weren't there for one another. In short, we had a pretty lousy sisterhood.

One of my earliest memories of me and my sister is a moment when I tried to stab her with a pencil (I have no idea if she even remember this; if so, I'm sorry.). Half of the pictures I have of us from when she was a baby show me either frowning or throwing a fit. These problems obviously started early on and only continued to worsen over time.

Needless to say, we've had our fair share of monster blow ups; from adolescent teasing gone haywire to laying it all out on the table as young, married adults. You name it, and we've probably had a dispute about it.

Recently, I tried reconciliation. Since marrying Scott and seeing the relationship his mother has with her sister, I truly felt the emptiness of not having that same connection with my own sister. In doing so, I arrived at the sad realization that the hurt I inflicted runs deeper than I could ever imagine. Anyone can see that just my presence gives my sister anxiety.

We all know how hard it is to forgive and forget, especially when it comes to a family member. I strongly believe it is always our families who we hurt the most. Typically, I am the worst version of myself around my immediate family. Our families usually bear the brunt of our stress, depression, hurt, and anger, whether or not it is associated with them. And when those feelings are sorely directed towards a specific family member, we shatter him/her. Not only do we shatter them, but we injure the opportunity of obtaining a somewhat stable relationship with that particular person. Undoubtedly, I know I have pushed this too close to the point of no return.

And yet, I hope. I hold hope that one day, we can be friends. That we will share stories of our now separate lives, of our own children, celebrate our victories, and lift one another up in time of tragedy.

Yesterday, I saw a piece of that hope realized. My dear sister gave birth to healthy baby boy. She was strong, and accomplished something I can only pray to do myself one day. I am so proud of her and her choices. So much shame exists in the ways I've treated her in the past, in the unnecessary competitions of life. Sorrow fills my heart in just thinking about the ways I constantly looked down on her, while in reality she was really only looking up to me for help and guidance.

Now, I am the one looking up to her. Seeing her as a sister and a mother.

Welcome to the family, Grant Marvin Jensen. I promise to be a better sister to your mother, and the best aunt I can be to you.

Amateur Professional

Some days at work I keep busy with meetings, phone calls, and various e-mails. A little bit of everything, if you will. Other days, and thankfully not that often, almost half of my day is consumed with a PowerPoint slide (yes, just one). Yesterday, it was this:

Before:

After (blurred to protect super intense company secrets):

Did you know that a funnel chart template does not exist in Microsoft Office 2003? And that the one in Microsoft Office 2007 is useless? Somehow I managed to transform the above .jpeg into the beautiful slide you see before you. You know this is why they pay me the big bucks. By the way, if you ever find yourself in the same conundrum, let me know. For a small fee, I can hook you up with extreme funnel knowledge.

Go ahead, praise my awesome office skills.

So what were some of your small victories yesterday?

New Blog

Hey, everybody! I've been wanting to make a switch from mobile me for sometime now, but I was waiting until the perfect blog idea came to me. And then it happened! Somewhere in between a forward fold and downward facing dog at Golden Heart Yoga Studio last Friday evening, it hit me: I am an amateur everything. Scott is, too. Amateur photog, amateur yogi, amateur runner, amateur business professional, amateur cook, amateur blogger... and now amateur is sounding quite weird (you know, like when you say foil over and over again, it loses meaning and sounds like a foreign language).

I digress.

I feel that many of the events in our life our amateur ambitions - hobbies, really. We like to try to different things at different times; some stick, some don't. Even the things that stick, we don't go hog-wild and revolve our life around it. I think Merriam-Webster helps explain our cause:

Main Entry: am·a·teur
Pronunciation: \ˈa-mə-(ˌ)tər, -ˌtur, -ˌtyur, -ˌchur, -chər
Function: noun
Etymology: French, from Latin amator lover, from amare to love
Date: 1784
1 : devotee, admirer
2 : one who engages in a pursuit, study, science, or sport as a pastime rather than as a profession
3 : one lacking in experience and competence in an art or science

So here we are: welcome to our amateur life, aka the sundry adventures of Scott and Mary.