Office Chronicles: the medicine cabinet

I burned my finger last night while making dinner for myself. My thumb slipped off of the potholder and onto the searing hot cookie sheet. Fortunately, the stove in my tiny apartment is right next to the sink, so I quickly turned the faucet on and ran the seared surface of my right thumb under cold water. (My co-worker Katie tells me that she learned in chemistry "back in the day" that one should actually put a burn in lukewarm water, and gradually turn it to cold. Oh well...)

While I have the appearance of making important decisions by weighing all of the factors involved (it's true, I am a contemplator...), I actually make my decisions based on the most random details. Prime example: church shopping. My parents took my opinion into consideration when choosing the church that we have attended since we moved to Michigan in 1992. I still haven't told them that I actually picked it for the Sunday School snacks... Next example: first job out of college.

The day of my interview at the formerly known as Thomson Tax & Accounting, I was given the usual tour of the facility. I will admit, I was wowed by what I saw - kitchens galore, an ice cream machine, massage chair, exercise room... but I think what did it for me was the medicine cabinet.

I'm actually not kidding. It's a large white metal case mounted on a wall right between the restrooms near my department. My tour guide's exact words while talking about the medicine cabinet: "We don't want you to be sick - we want you to feel better!" (While I counted it as genuine, I now realize it's because they need us to work...work, work!)

I've opened the medicine cabinet a few times prior to today. My eyes hurt from staring at a computer screen for 7.5 hours a day, so I went in search of eye drops one day - and lo and behold they were there, in tiny one-use portions. I'm also starting to develop a dependency on coffee since starting work - so every now and then when my caffeine-deprivation headaches kick in, I run to get a packet of Ibuprofen.

I am currently typing with my right thumb swathed in "Cool & Soothe - the aqua dressing that cools and heals" gauze. While trying to find the appropriate adhesive tape with which to wrap my finger, I scanned the rest of the cabinet for interesting finds. The names/products I found worth mentioning are as follows: Insta-cool Cold Spray, Super-Stop Blood Clotter, Cramp Relief, q-tips, cough drops, and blue bandaids (latex-free). I have never considered marketing as a viable career path prior to reading some of those product names (sounds like they need help in the pharmaceutical marketing industry...) Maybe that'll be the next bend in the road after this one! (I'm kidding).

So it's Thanksgiving Eve and I'm itching to drive home to Kalamazoo - but I'm sitting anticipating incoming calls for another hour. The cues are quiet after a crazy day, so I got the chance to take pictures and post this blessed object of my affections...

The casualty

Tanksliving

Rain showers today in Ann Arbor. It's 37 °F outside, but feels like 27 °F. Although Turkey Day is a little less than two weeks away, Christmas songs made their premature debut on the radio at the beginning of the month. Looks like we're approaching that time of year again - "'Tis the season to be... consumerist - fa la la la la, la la la la." Let's certainly hope so - especially with buzzwords like "recession" and "depression" being thrown around.

Within the world of retail decor, the fourth Thursday of November has gotten the shaft. (Not to mention the fact that the day after the fourth Thursday of November is the biggest shopping day of the year...) In fact, in August, I had lunch with my adopted grandparents at Cracker Barrel, and was shocked and amazed to find juxtaposed two trees - one filled with Halloween decorations, and the other laden with Christmas ornaments. That said, it's easy to forget Thanksgiving, or even a lifestyle of thankfulness.

Cornucopias, pilgrim hats, and shopping sprees aside, "In 1623 a day of fasting and prayer during a period of drought was changed to one of thanksgiving because the rain came during the prayers. Gradually the custom prevailed in New England of annually celebrating thanksgiving after the harvest." (Thank you, History Channel: http://www.history.com/minisite.do?content_type=Minisite_Generic&content_type_id=874&display_order=2&mini_id=1083)

As the Little Drummer Boy pa-rum-pum-pum-pums you towards Christmas, think on things that you can be thankful for as we anticipate the Thanksgiving holiday. Here's a taste of what I'm looking forward to driving home to soon...

Thinking at an ungodly hour of the night; or, losing my marbles

I woke up at 2:30 am (thank you, sleep cycle) and also happened to remember that I needed to move my car. And now I am wide awake, thinking about how different my life is now from a year ago.

A year ago, sometime between the hours of November 10 and November 11, I slept a fitful sleep after having just broken up with my boyfriend of two years. I remember opening my eyes to the gray dawn streaming into my room. I actually wanted to go back to sleep, to forget. But I knew I would just wake up once more to feeling snapped in two. I'm pretty sure I woke up with my arms in the air, grasping for something in front of my face, which actually ended up being nothing.

The rest of the day was a blur. I don't sing in the shower (often...), but I managed to squeak out a few notes that morning because the pain in my heart was excruciating:
In the chaos, in confusion, I know you're sovereign still...
(here is a better version of it, if you're not familiar with the song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axqXMuW8x1U)
And at the end of the day, my comforter served as the largest kleenex in the world as I laid in it wrapped up, an ashen and tangled heap.

But here I am a year later, having more than survived to write about it. This breakup has been one of my most significant defining moments thus far in my young life - and I'm certain that there will be more. A year ago, I felt like a bomb had detonated somewhere close to me - and if you saw me walking around a year ago today, I literally looked shellshocked. I don't mean to keep looking back - but I do, because for every ounce of pain that I experienced on the inside, that kind of broken was, and is, beautiful.

It's November 11, I have been single for exactly one year, and I have no frame of reference anymore in terms of life experiences. Everything is new - and everyday, I am more confident that God engineers our circumstances perfectly. In fact, I found myself being reminded of this fact through an illustration I heard at a tiny church service I found at the airport during my three hour layover in Atlanta on Sunday.

It was about a little boy running around with marbles clenched in his tiny fist. His father knew that the marbles were dangerous because (1) the child might swallow them or (2) the child might drop the marbles while running and slip and fall on them. In order to lure the boy away from the marbles, the parent produced a new and better toy - an airplane - for which the boy would have to let go of the marbles in order to grasp at the better thing.

Without remorse, I think it would be appropriate to say that I have lost my marbles...