Embarrassment

Can someone die from embarrassment? I know that you can want to die from embarrassment, but I really do wonder if at some point it can all build up to a level that actual kills you. Today, I am positive I got close. Today is Friday, October 30, the day before Halloween. It also happens to be the day when I nearly expired from embarrassment and wished that a hole would open up in the Earth to suck me down so that I would be consumed by the hot liquid core of this planet. Honestly, that seemed preferable to my predicament. To really understand we must rewind a bit…

During Halloween 2013 and Halloween 2014 I worked at the Multnomah County Courthouse. A place that required suits or similarly professional clothes be worn every single day of the year. In the back of my mind I always thought it would be fun if there was one day per year we were allowed to wear whatever we wanted. And what better day than Halloween, I thought. Let all the workers dress up in costumes. Wouldn’t it be amazing to see a courtroom presided over by someone in a giant bee costume? Seemed like a solid idea. I was wrong.

In September I left the Courthouse for a job at Nike. Yes, the Nike. I now commute to Beaverton, OR

(not that far of a commute, actually) every day to the amazingly beautiful Nike World Headquarters. It’s actually a really stunning place (or “campus,” as they like to call it). I started when summer still lingered in Oregon and quickly found a favorite bench on which to eat lunch every day next to Lake Nike in the center of campus. I often arrive at work just as the sun is peaking over the horizon and once even arrived minutes after a small shower left an early morning rainbow hovering over the campus. It’s an incredible place, but it’s also taken a lot of adjustment on my part, particularly in regards to clothing. Nike is a very casual place. Everyone (and I do mean everyone, even the lawyers) wears jeans to work every day. Most people wear at least one article of Nike clothing and some are covered in the Swoosh from head to toe. I went from a work environment that demanded the highest levels of formality to a place where that level of professional attire instantly brands you a weirdo outsider, something I learned first-hand. (Let’s just say that my first day on the job was a bit of an eye opener and leave it at that.) Since I started I’ve worked hard and (mostly) managed to conform my wardrobe to Nike expectations, although I think I’m still a little more formally dressed than the multitudes (I still

haven’t come to work dressed like I’m about to head to the gym yet as several of my coworkers are wont to do).

On Friday, October 30 though, I managed to ruin all my hard work. Two weeks ago I received an email from the head of my department (which oversees the entirety of Nike Administration – basically anything that has to do with how Nike actually operates as a company) stating that Nike would be celebrating Halloween on October 30^th this year and that they would be holding their annual costume competition and trick-or-treating event. Each sub-department would need to pick a theme and have everyone dress accordingly. A competition would then be held to judge the costumes and a pizza party lunch provided to the winning group. Additionally, in the late afternoon, kids from Nike’s day care center would arrive for trick-or-treating throughout the campus. Upon reading this email I was moderately excited and started thinking up ways to get my group to agree to go as Captain Planet and the Planeteers (an awesome environmentalist cartoon from my childhood) since I already had a Planeteer costume from years past. Unfortunately, before I could even begin the draft of my email, I received an email that stated our group had decided (without my input evidently) that we would all dress up for sports from the summer Olympics. I should have known it would be something like this. I mean, this is Nike after all. Of course it would be sports related. *Rolling eyes*

A follow-up email soon arrived listing all the possible summer Olympic sports. Now, I am not a sporty person. I don’t enjoy playing most sports and I hate watching pretty much all sports (I will make occasional exceptions for watching in person, which is moderately more exciting, but that is limited to baseball and soccer). But swimming was on the list and I have been a swimmer since I was 9 years old, so I had the “costume” in the bag and wouldn’t have to purchase anything. It seemed like a no brainer.

Well, today was the day and I donned my costume before leaving for work. I wore my swim suit, hair in a messy bun, goggles around my neck, swim cap tucked into the top strap of my bathing suit, a pair of sweats, a fuzzy sweater to zip over my suit, a pair of flip flops on my feet and a towel slung around my neck. I was ready to go kick some butt in this contest. And then I arrived at work. Where everyone was dressed normally. Yes, they had all worn their regular clothes and planned to change later in the day since the competition judging wouldn’t occur until 2:00 pm. *Face, meet palm*

What makes this all that much worse was the fact that on the entire drive to work I felt uncomfortable. Even after two months working at Nike I feel discomfort wearing casual clothing to my work place. And I couldn’t help but ponder how horrible it would be if this was all some massive joke on me – something along the lines of Bridget Jones’ Diary or Legally Blond. But, I figured that wouldn’t actually be the case – I mean the email had come from the head of Admin herself. This couldn’t be a prank of some kind and I hadn’t misunderstood the order to dress up. Well, I figured wrong. I am stuck in my very own Tarts and Vicars nightmare. Thank god I’m not dressed in a skimpy bunny costume. Nope. Just a skimpy bathing suit instead.

The only thing that saved me from actually perishing at this point is the fact that I packed a shirt and undergarments in my purse in case I wanted to change before leaving for work. Upon realizing my faux pas I immediately hoofed it to the bathroom and at least lost the suit for a couple hours. But, I’m still stuck in my sweats, flip flops and other assorted accoutrements of my costume. So, now I’m hiding out in my cubicle, willing the universe to provide me some means of escape: a wormhole, a sudden ability to teleport, or even an earthquake would be most welcome.

Oh yeah, and to make things even more interesting, as soon as I sat at my desk my stomach decided to start rumbling and growling for no apparent reason. I’m fairly certain everyone in the building could hear it. So, while the earthquake itself hasn’t come to my rescue yet, it sure sounds like it has. Now, please excuse me while I hide under my desk until this atrocious and embarrassing day is over. And if Scotty is out there reading this…beam me up already. 

When Friday Let's You Down

We worked all the week and waited so long,
Yet Monday through Thursday dragged on and on.
Garfield taught me when I was a small child,
That Mondays are terrible and not worth your while.
And Tuesdays I know are simply the worst,
Not half through the week yet, but no longer the first.
On Wednesdays you throw your fists in the air,
For at noon you realize you're now half-way there.
But there's still so much time left in the week,
Before you will reach those free days you seek.
Thursday you manage because Friday is near,
So close you can taste it, soon we will cheer.
And then it is Friday, and at 5 you'll be free,
For Friday's half weekend, it's plain as can be.
And most of the time this system holds true,
Friday's the best day and you are renewed.
But at 8 in the morning 5 may be too far away,
Endless time stands still, a steep wall in our way.
What do you do in those terrible times?
When it feels like your sanity is placed on the line?
Today Friday is surely the worst of them all,
Excuse me while I sob under my desk in a ball.

Chloe-isms

Now that my demanding cat has had a taste of fame she has an unquenchable thirst for more. And what can I do but give in? (For the why, see previous post.) And so, here is some more advice Chloe offers to other cats and humans. This will give you a sense of my private hell... (private hell!)

Food dishes should always be filled to at least the three quarters mark. Any lower and it’s too hard to knock a kibble out to chase around the house.

Humans are so gullible. Want to bite them? Jump into their lap and roll over to expose your belly. They can’t resist the kitty belly. When they go in to give you a scratch…

BITE!

Vacuuming up my fur just makes me think you want more. Fine, if you like my fur that much, I’ll shed faster. You’re welcome.

I do know my name. I just don’t like you well enough to respond when you use it.

Occasionally puke for no reason. This will keep the human on her toes and concerned about your health. A concerned human is an easily duped human.

When other humans are around, cower whenever your human comes near. This will make the visiting humans believe that your human beats you. It’s hilarious. 

The most comfortable place to sleep with your human is on their face. Don’t settle for second best. Start off the night at the bottom of the bed to lull them into a false sense of security. When their breathing changes denoting REM sleep patterns, move and curl up in a ball on their face.

An open book in the human’s lap is the best place to sit.

Always sit or lay as close to the human’s face as possible. Then, when they sneeze, give them a dirty look. 

Humans should always remain seated in a location where their lap is easily accessible. To ensure they perform this necessary function to cat happiness, try the following: 1) follow them around everywhere, 2) when they are stopped and standing, stand at/on their feet and stare up at them while telepathically commanding them to sit down; 3) cry incessantly and scratch at their pant legs when they are seated in a location where the lap is inaccessible, such as at a desk, until they move to a location more beneficial to you.

Humans = food dish fillers & laps. They serve no other purpose in this world.

All bugs must be killed. However, the most terrible beast that walks this earth is the spider. Spiders deserve worse than death. They deserve torture. The best practice is to torture any spider found in your territory and then leave the horribly mangled body in a highly visible location as a warning to all other spiders. Ignore the human when it tells you to stop this brutal practice. It is necessary. Give the human the cold shoulder whenever the human interrupts this practice and “puts the spider out of its misery” before you have completed your task.

Glasses and sunglasses are chew toys.

Wisdom & Advice from a Bearcat

This may sound odd to a non-cat owner, but my life, in no small way, revolves around my cat. I'm not entirely sure why or how 6 pounds of fluff rules my house, but she absolutely does. For instance, tonight I was out at a friend's birthday celebration after work and at around 7:20 pm I decided it was about time to leave. This was in part because I was tired after a long day at work, but also because I knew Chloe was at home waiting for me and would undoubtedly make my life hell if I didn't get home in time to spend at least a couple hours awake with her. I caved to the fluff. But I think most cat owners out there will understand my predicament. Dog owners may conform their lives to their dog's schedule because they don't want their pup to pee or poo inside the house, but cat owners don't have that excuse. Instead, we conform to the demands of our cats out of both love and fear. The love is our desire to have our cats continue to love us - and let's not kid ourselves here, if we put one foot out of line it's going to be at least a few days of hell for us as we work to win back our cat's affections. And the fear is at the prospect of losing that love and having our cat treat us the way he or she treats the cable man (or my sister, in Chloe's case). That is something no cat owner wants. And cats are sneaky, they will find subtle, yet profound ways to pay you back for any perceived slight (my mother's cat Julie - Chloe's mother - goes on a hunger strike every time my Mom leaves on a trip). Cat owners know that it's easiest to simply keep the peace and do everything possible to make the cat happy because then we're sure to be closer to happiness ourselves.

Now, in order to ensure that this peace continues, it is important for the wise cat owner to get inside the head of his or her cat. Try to understand why the cat does what it does. Unfortunately, sometimes our feline friends are just completely inscrutable. There must be some disconnect on certain subjects between humans and felines, a bridge that simply cannot be crossed. In the hopes of helping you, my (potentially imaginary - is anyone reading this blog?) friends understand your own furry companions a little better, I have decided to start providing you with my insights into Chloe's psyche. Perhaps it can inspire you to better understand your cat or you will see something here that rings true in your own household. Look for posts in the future on "The Wisdom and Advice of Chloe the Bearcat."* For now, here is what Chloe says on the subject of biting...

“Ooooo! What is this new, shiny object? I’ll bite it to find out.” 

Advice: If it’s new, bite it.

“Ooooo! Is this my human’s hand coming to pet me? I’ll bite it to be sure.” 

Advice: If it’s there, bite it.

“I love belly rubs and head scratches! Biting your hand will get that message across.” 

Advice: If you like it, bite it.

*Please Note: The "Advice" Chloe offers here is to other cats. Unfortunately, when she found out I was writing this blog about her, she insisted that I include her advice for other cats on how to behave with "a cat's human." It feels demeaning and I'm not sure I want to send this information out into the world so that other people's cats start behaving like Chloe, but I'm once again caving to the fluff. See the second half of paragraph 1 as to why. And good luck to us all. 

Saying Good-bye (or Out with the Old and In with the New!)

Today was my last Thursday as a clerk at the Multnomah County Circuit Court. It's hard to believe. In fact, it's almost impossible to believe. Like so many of my peers, I graduated law school without a job. In fact, I was unemployed for about 9 months after graduation. And it was horrible. I've never been a super motivated person and I've always liked my downtime, so I assumed unemployment would be just a little too comfortable for me. But as it turns out, when you have nothing but downtime, it's really not such fun. All the things that you love to do when you've earned them at the end of a long day of work (pleasure reading, watching TV, going to the movies, hanging out with friends, even quilting) are just not as much fun when that is all you do every day. I hated unemployment and actually worked pretty hard to try to rectify that situation. In January 2013, having decided I needed more practical experience on my resume, I began volunteering at the Courthouse in downtown Portland. Well, two months later I was hired as a clerk and that's where I've been working ever since.

Now, the clerk job was a pretty good gig and I had some very good times. I made some amazing friends, gained some incredible experience, and began writing weekly Thursday Clerk Lunch reminder emails that have led to a lot of the posts you've read here. But having been doing this job for about 2.5 years now, I've gotten a bit bored. I've known for a while that it was time to move on and have been looking for a new job since last fall. I took a brief hiatus from the job search in the early months of this year when my big sister was diagnosed with breast cancer, but picked the search back up again this summer after she officially kicked cancer's a**. To my astonishment and great joy, I received a job offer a few weeks ago from Nike. The world headquarters of Nike is in Beaverton, OR, right next to Portland, and that is where I will be working from now on. I am so excited and beyond ready for this next step. It's time to move on. But that does mean leaving some incredible friends behind.

Today marked my very last Thursday Clerk Lunch with all my friends at the Courthouse. Below is the poem I wrote for them and that was sent out in my last reminder email as a final good-bye.

How do you expect me to say good-bye to friends held so very dear,
To people I've come to greatly respect, this amazing sea of peers?
For the time has come for me to leave, to go on a separate way,
A new path to travel, a new road to walk, for all the coming days.
Perhaps the Bard said it best, "parting is such sweet sorrow,"
But Romeo and Juliet were fools who didn't live to see tomorrow.
Let's look instead to Winnie the Pooh, that silly tub of lard,
"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."
Thank you all for the time we've spent together here at work,
You've made the time pass so fast these two years I've been a clerk.

Now, wish me luck as I head off to this new adventure! I can't wait to see what it brings.

Zombie Apocalypse

Anybody who knows me knows that I am a big fan of zombies. I don't know when my interest/fascination/obsession with zombies (books, movies, 5K runs, etc.) started (sometime in college, I think), but it is one that has endured for many years. In fact, my final senior English seminar paper in college was on the Resident Evil film series and how it's an evolving allegory for our societal fears today. (I'm still not sure how I managed to get that topic past my professor, but I had a great time watching those movies over and over again in preparation for writing.) I continue to read and watch any new zombie books and films that come out (I highly recommend reading Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion and World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks) and enjoy them all immensely (some more than others, of course). It should come as no surprise to learn then that I've also spent an inordinate amount of time planning exactly what I will (note: will, not would) do when the zombie apocalypse finally occurs.  What weapons for protection from the walking dead and humans I will acquire, whether to stay in cities or head for the country-side, how to meet up with my family and which of my family members I think would actually survive long enough for me to meet up with them (I'm sorry to say that

some of my siblings have no hope of making it). I've also discussed this in depth with two of my sisters and taken components of their plans and adapted them to my own while also scoffing at what are clearly some very foolish ideas on how to survive. I'm pretty sure that I now have a workable plan that will ensure my survival in the face of the zombie apocalypse, be they fast or slow zombies. (And don't worry, Mom & Dad, I've got a plan to get to you both and protect you from the undead hordes.)

Now, knowing all of this, it also can't come as a surprise to learn that zombies are quite frequently on my mind. (To have an adequate zombie apocalypse plan you must be constantly evolving that plan according to the changes of society, geography, family, etc. - every good zombie apocalypse preparer knows this.) And so, today I offer to you all a zombie apocalypse poem for your enjoyment. I hope it inspires all of you to become more well read (and well watched) on the subject and convinces you all to start formulating your own survival plan. Good luck!

The end of all is drawing near,

We gather close out of fear.

Cling together, don't let go,

Keep your breathing nice and slow.

Don't make a sound, not one peep,

In the shadows they now creep.

Use your head to stay alive,

Before you run, count to five.

To make sure the coast is clear,

Take a pause, what do you hear?

A slow shuffle, a dragging foot,

Moans of hunger, now take a look,

Around the corner, what do you see?

Too many horrors, it's time to flee!

Do you know now where to run,

Where safety lies under the sun?

Did you make a plan in case,

You were to witness the end of days?

I hope you gave it some good thought,

As the man too slow is surely caught.

They called me a fool and laughed in my face,

But who's laughing now as the zombies give chase?

Blogs in the Family

I come from a family of bloggers. And I have no one to blame but myself. Our collective introduction to the world of blogging began when I travelled to SE Asia in 2010. Prior to that time I don’t think anyone in my family had ever given much thought to even reading someone’s blog and certainly no thought to keeping a blog themselves. But when I decided to travel alone half a world away from home, friends, and family to live in SE Asia for three months after my first year of law school this all changed. We’ve always been a tightknit clan and the prospect of being largely out of communication for that entire period of time was intolerable (particularly to my parents – I am their youngest and favorite child, after all). At first we considered merely having me send out periodic email updates to everyone, but considering the large number of people I would need to keep in touch with (I am one of six siblings and lets not even start on the size of the extended fam) this seemed too impractical for words. And so, in a moment of genius (I have quite a few of these), I suggested that I keep a blog. This would allow me to write one update on me and my life while travelling that everyone could read when and where they wanted and I wouldn’t require me to spend my entire three months abroad simply answering emails. Thus was born Adventures of a Bookworm Abroad, my first blog.

Prior to that initial blogging experience I had never really considered whether or not I enjoyed writing. I wrote all the time for school, of course; but writing research papers or essays on novels is in no way similar to creative or journal writing. I found in very short order that I, in fact, loved keeping a blog. Years of excessive (according to my mother) reading had given me a decent command of the English language and I found that I enjoyed finding my own voice and describing my travelling adventures for friends and family to (hopefully) enjoy.

Then I returned home to the US and fell into a funk. It can be really difficult to go from life on the road to the more sedentary pace of “real life.” Combine that with the fact that I had been living in third world countries for three months, gaining exposure for the first time to the plight of so many people around the world who live in abject poverty, and then came back to the rampant consumerism of the United States and it’s no wonder that I was a teensy bit depressed upon my return. It took me about six months or so before I returned to normal and during that time I was not blogging. My Bookworm Abroad blog had served its purpose, chronicling my adventures away from home and now that I had returned to my regular life there seemed to be nothing more to say. Then, one day, while sitting in a ridiculously boring constitutional law class, I had an idea for a blog post and my second blog was born: Thoughts of a Bookworm at Home. I don’t write nearly as often as I should, but I try to keep up a regular stream of posts consisting of random thoughts, occasional diatribes, and, quite frequently, poetry.

My family seemed genuinely pleased that I returned to my blogging and encouraged my efforts. And only a few months later my mom told me that she had decided to start a blog as well. This blog would be a blog for herself and her quilting compatriots (of which I am a member). My mother is an incredible woman who knows how to do every art and craft. Literally. You would have great trouble finding a type of art or craft that my mother does not know how to do. She has done it all: book making, paper making, stamp carving, painting (oil, watercolor, acrylics), drawing (pencil, color pencil, charcoal, pastels), sculpture, knitting, crocheting, doll making, needle felting, mixed media art, embroidery, quilting, etc. In the past few years, however, she has focused her attention largely on quilting. My mom has collected a group of friends and family, all fellow quilters, and created a group that my dad calls “The Stix Chix” (Stix = Sticks, because we’re too small to be a club, hehehe). Well, my mom decided that a blog was the perfect way to keep all the Six Chix connected as more and more of us were moving away from our home base of Amador County, California. Her blog was a rousing success, at least in our small circle, but my mom soon outstripped its limited parameters of knitting and quilting topics. She liked writing so much that she decided to start a second blog for herself – Moser Good Eats – a blog devoted to my parents’ food adventures and travels. Her blogs are now several years old and she remains as enthusiastic as the day she began.

And so, within the span of two years, there were four blogs between two of the Moser women. For years we held to this number and my mother and I have managed to restrain ourselves from starting any more blogs (thank goodness), but now that number has increased by one. My sister, Jana, has started her own blog – Here, Eat These Berries. Following a major health issue diagnosis (I’ll let you read more about that in her own words in her first blog post), my mom began encouraging Jana to express herself via writing by starting either a private journal or a blog. For a long time Jana resisted. In fact, through her initial treatment and recovery, over a seven month period, Jana resisted. But finally, my mom won (as she always does) and Jana started her blog just under one week ago. And even after so short of time, it’s clear that Jana is an addict. A total blogging addict.

Since that first blog post, Jana has written about two posts per day, she calls me as soon as she posts to tell me to read (even at 7:00 on a Saturday), she insists I comment at least once per post, she spends hours staging pictures and she’s obsessed with gaining readers. She’s crazy! But she’s also really funny and insightful. I can hear her voice and picture her mannerisms in every word on the page and she often makes me laugh out loud. In fact, I think my sister may be better at this blogging thing than I am. And I’m absolutely sure that it won’t be long before she outstrips me in readership.

As the tally now stands there are five blogs run by three Moser women. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before more of the family joins us in the blogosphere. I wonder what my dad is doing right now…