History repeats itself

Tonight, I am freaking stressed out about Peru.  All day really I've been stressed about it.  And it just dawned on me....this is EXACTLY what happened to me as I was trying to go to Australia.  Apparently I am hardwired to panic.

Didn't know I'm going to Peru?  Oh.  I got news:  I'm going to Peru!  For 7 weeks.  6 of those weeks I'll be teaching English for a volunteer program.

Now the problem remains....how do I afford it and get the most out of my experience.  (Isn't that always the case with travel?)  Earlier today I was depressed and resigned to giving up.  Now I'm feeling revived by kind words on Facebook, and a certain friend bringing the fight out in me and making me realize that I really do want this.  If I don't go now, I'm never going to go.  I might to vacation in Peru, maybe. But once I get that "real job"  its not like I can take 2 months off to go galavanting around South America.

**(side note:  I just googled galavanting to see how its spelled and was led to what looks to be an unbelievably awesome website called http://www.gogalavanting.com/, an online women's travel magazine that says this in its intro: "When it comes to travel, we believe people are interested in more than just the latest gear and reviews of ludicrously expensive resorts. We know that not every female is in search of the world’s perfect facial. And that people without trust funds travel too."  I firmly believe that that is an affirmative sign to go!)**

The bad news I received earlier is that the adoption agency I've been working for may not have the funds to keep me employed for much longer.  I'm pretty sure I can stay on until I leave for Peru but after that its a toss up.  The ironic part is that its all the work I've done there that has highlights just how dire things are.  Damn me, I shoulda done a shit job.  Regardless of my employment status come June, I only have barely enough money saved up to make this work.  That in itself is stressing me out, though I'm trying to remind myself that I made Australia work and that was a far larger risk.  I guess I know that I can make it work, its just a matter if I can manage to do everything I want to do.  I doubt I'll get another opportunity like this.

I learned that the biggest attraction in Peru, the creme de la creme, the Inca trail and Macchu Picchu costs upwards of $500.  And I don't have the time to search for the best deal because I should have booked it 3 months ago.  Irritated.  So I'm thinking now that I might go to Macchu Picchu for a day or two and hike a different mountain that is far cheaper.  But wouldn't that be like going to Paris and not seeing the Eiffel Tower?  Or Big Ben in London?  Or eating a Philly cheesesteak in Philly??  So I should just suck it up and make it work.  I might have to go to extremes, but I should make it work.  By extremes I don't mean selling my body.  More like banking on a tax return, closing out a forgotten retirement fund (again), and/or not eating in Peru.  

All for this view:

This could be me!

She's Crafty: A cardigan

Getting into my craftiness a bit more which may or may not be attributed to the addition of pinterest to my life.  Today, I was overcome with the need to do something or get rid of a sweater my Mom got me for Christmas.  It's a nice sweater, but a bit too big and a bit too blue for me, and I lost the receipt so I couldn't exchange it if I wanted to.  I found a tutorial on how to make a cardigan out of old sweaters from this neat blog.  It was pretty straight forward, but I have to admit, I would have never thought to make a cardigan.  Sweater cardigans are not common in my wardrobe.  I usually opt for a hoodie, but for that reason and because I now work in an office where hoodie's would most certainly be frowned upon...a cardigan was a great idea!

So between Samantha's 4th birthday party and the superbowl party I ran to JoAnn Fabrics to pick up some bias tape, lace, and snaps.  I started around 4:30pm with this sweater:

By 6pm, as I'm rushing to get as much done before the Superbowl, it looked a little dicey:

I cut the sweater down the center, always the most stressful part.  I used 1" bias tape that I cut in half and wrapped around the edge of the sweater.  The first go didn't work so well, but thankfully, I just cut another line off the sweater and none's the wiser.

My stitching is never very good.  At least in my opinion.  There's always a lot of "well, that's good enough" when I start sewing, so I  picked up grey 1" lace.  Neat trick....it hides all my bad stitching!

During the first half of the game, I hand sewed snaps on the top.  I've never worked with snaps or buttons before (they intimidate me).  It was a bit trickier than I anticipated.  Took a little improvising to sew the snaps on without showing any thread on the outside of the sweater.

And ta-da...well before the Patriots tanked in the Superbowl, I was finished!

I may add some embellishments later on if I can find any I like, but for now, I'm pretty proud of it.

The tale of the lost birth certificate

In the mean time, I'm also working part time for the adoption agency.  I didn't realize until this week, when I posted somethings about an adoption finalization I'm working on that people didn't know I was working for an adoption agency.  Funny stuff.  I apologize to anyone who that I was adopting a kid.  Funny enough, I think that might be a totally plausible conclusion for some people to come to about me.

The adoption agency pays the bills.  It was originally just meant to be me helping out an old employer with office organization until I found a "real job."  Then it suddenly became a "real job," funny how that happens.   My boss dropped an adoption finalization in my lap.  As you probably have guessed, I know absolutely nothing about adoption.  I don't even know anyone who has adopted or even been adopted.  But even so, my boss, overwhelmed by this finalization, gave me the project.  To make things a bit more stressful, the adoptive mother is fed up and outraged at the agency over this adoption.  My first email correspondence with her got me a response that started out by saying "Umm, Kassi."  Hell if that didn't piss me off.  But I used my professional prowess to send her a straightforward, yet kind email in response.  Eventually easing her over enough to not be so rude to me!  In the end, she made me feel really bad for her that all she wants is to finalize the adoption and be able to legally say that her baby is hers.  So I promised her I would take care of it, and I would take care of it quickly.

Then I realized I just promised something to someone, that I didn't have the slightest idea of how to do.

First I had to figure out what an adoption finalization is, and how to do it.  I spent the first few days emailing lawyers, adoption clerks at the court house, and even other agencies and asking them "how do I do an adoption finalization?"  Another local agency, our competition actually, was kind enough to give me a list of all the forms and paperwork I needed to get.  The finalization takes place at least 6 months after an adopted child has been living with the adoptive parent(s).  Everything becomes official once the finalization is complete and a new birth certificate, listing the adoptive parents as the parents of the child is generated.  It is pretty much the piece de resistance of adoptions.  The list the other agency gave me was quite intensive, and we were missing a lot of pieces.  None more crucial than the original birth certificate of the baby. On top of that though, our lawyer consultant (who normally would do the finalization but is quite expensive) informed me that we needed a few special motions because our case had special circumstances.  So I:

• pulled together the forms needed for the birth mother and the adoptive mother.  They each needed to sign and notarize about 6 different forms. 
• Found the forms from the court that the agency needed to fill out.  Not being a licensed social worker, I thought that my boss would need to fill them out.  But in the time it took me to corral her into the conference room and actually read and sign the forms, I was able to read through them and figure out how to do them on my own.  
• I got the lawyer to send me an example of a Motion to Waive Notice and a Motion to Approve the Open Adoption Agreement.  These were needed because of the special circumstances of this case.  What I find funny about the motions, is that they are in total lawyer jargon.  Complete with Hereto and wherefore and such.  It seems strange that I'm just typing up this super important court document in word on my laptop.  But that's what I did.  
• The biggest, most important, most complicated piece of the puzzle is the child's birth certificate.  Now we are supposed to have the birth certificate.  We did not have it.  I don't know if we had it at one point and lost it, if someone else had it, or what.  Fact remained, we didn't have it.  I figured out you get those from the Registry of Vital Statistics.  According to their website, you only need to know the birth date, birth place, and child's name to get the certificate.  It was too good to be true.  I called the office many times, only to ever get a voicemail.  I finally decided to go talk to someone, so I drove out to Dorchester (its right by the UMass Boston campus...very very pretty!).  I learned that you have to be a parent to get the certificate (duh!) and that if the parents are not married at the time of birth, the record is automatically restricted.  Being that we are the adoption agency and until the finalization is complete we technically have guardianship of the baby, we are allowed to get the certificate...but it takes a helluva lot of forms to get it.  I went back the next day with the birth mother's surrender, a copy of the agency's license, a copy of my boss's social work license, a letter that I wrote stating that I am an employee of the agency, a copy of my driver's license.  It took about 15 minutes of the guy checking with people to see if he could give me the the birth certificate...but he did!  I got it!  I got the birth certificate!  It has been a long time since I felt so happy and accomplished and all over a form for a kid I've never met!

So that's where we stand with the finalization.  I have more forms to send to the respective mothers, and still waiting on forms I sent them to come in.  My boss has to ok another form I made up and then we take all 75 million forms and letters and affidavits and motions to the adoption clerk and hope and pray that he doesn't say I did it all wrong.

Ebbs and Flows

Unfortunately, my life just isn't as consistently interesting enough to keep my blog up as I had hoped it would be. Or maybe, I need to re-frame how I view things.  Regardless:  an update.

So November and December were hard months for me.  There was my usual dislike for the holiday season and my new found dislike of cold weather to confront.  Along with my stagnant professional life and to top if all off things didn't go so well with Cute Red Head.  (I really thought with a first date story like we had, it would have lasted longer--oh well).  So I wallowed for for awhile.  Some of the wallowing I did in Mexico, which was awesome.  (That's where the re-framing part comes it, cuz that was really cool, but I was stuck in my own downward spiral at the time).

What wallowing does do for you, is it gives you a chance to think.  Think of all the things you want to change, and it give you the courage to change them.  At least for me it does.  In my wallowing, I was able to get a gig in a holiday market selling Rwandan baskets.  It was somewhat hokey, but I met some cool people and I saved enough money to completely pay off my Mexico trip, all other debt (excluding student loans of course) and still have a fair bit left for my next adventure.

I also networked my way into a volunteer position at my favorite non-profit public health organization.  I say networked my way in....I kind of stalked my way in, but more on that later. This.Is.Huge.  This organization has so many resumes come through not only for jobs but also for volunteer positions.  (In fact, another volunteer was going through and sending out thank you denial letters to all the other volunteer applicants this week because they are all full up).  It feels like a job, I treat it like a job, but it does not pay.  And for the moment, that is ok with me.  I am so excited to be a part of the work they do that I'm happy to enter data or stuff envelopes for hours on end for free.  Obviously, I won't be able to sustain this indefinitely because, well, I need a job.  But for now, I'm so pumped everyday that I get to go in to the office.  This volunteer gig is a huge opportunity and will open a lot of doors for me.  After volunteering two days, I discovered a global health fellowship program, which I am in the process of applying for.   I'm also in the process of stalking, I mean networking, with everyone who has a connection to the global health fellowships.  So wish me luck!  Because it could be everything I've been looking for!

The Thing About Facebook Birthdays Is

I hate them.

There is not a day that goes by where at least one of my FB friends has a birthday.  Facebook is kind enough to remind me of my friends aging, which I do appreciate.  But just because facebook tells me its Stacy's birthday, I am obliged to write the standard message on Raquel's wall. (I don't know a single person named Raquel).  So I am writing this blog as an apology to all the friends who have had a birthday and not received the standard FB message from me.  Its not because I don't care that its your day, I just didn't say so on FB.  To be fair, there are a number of people on facebook that I wouldn't normally call up on their birthday to chat with, so it feels a bit fake to write it on their walls.  But now I'm stuck in this conundrum of how do I say happy birthday to those I care about without looking like a bitch to those who maybe I don't.  I suppose the easy thing to do is go all or nothing.  But all is overwhelming and nothing is boring.

The thing about opinions is...

I have them.  Lots of them.  And I share them, frequently.  If you're one of my 6 followers you probably already know this.  I post a lot of articles on Facebook. Most of them political.  And all in hopes that someone who doesn't agree with me will actually read it.  Make a conservative see the light of day?  I acknowledge that this is a stratus cloud fantasy, but I still hold hope.  Maybe its the Pollyanna in me.  I know I've offended my fair share of Facebookers.  But to me, its all for a good cause.

On the flip side, I do read what my friends post.  Not that they will be able to change my mind, but out of genuine curiosity about what they feel strongly enough about to post.  Most the time I can let the  jargon pass with a judgmental roll of the eyes.  Occasionally I can not.  Then I get entangled in a heated back and forth.  Some might question why how I get along with said friends, sometimes I do as well.  But I hold on to them with the fleeting hope that something, anything, I said made the least bit of sense to them. 

That is all a way to say:

-I will forever keep posting political articles and tidbits.
-I will hold you accountable for the things you post, therefore don't post anything you are not willing or able to defend.


Some other facebook rules not related to politics though just as likely to offend:

-I do not, under any circumstances care to read about anything that comes out of your baby.  Doesn't matter which end or whether its good or bad news.  If its on the reverse track, keep it within the family.
-I will not wish you a happy birthday on Facebook.  Sorry.  Its generic and meaningless.  Though I really do appreciate all the birthday messages I get on my birthday.  I realize that this is a double standard.  Again, sorry.

Story Telling Jealousy and a Boy

I have a friend who I met in Sydney.  She's not Australian, but we were in the same program together.  She is currently away for what has to be a tremendously challenging and rewarding job in Africa.  While she's away, she has been keeping a blog for her family and friends (kinda like I did in Australia, but have since let it slip by the way side).  Today I was reading one of her posts about funny things guys say, and I got jealous.  Not jealous of the funny things guy say, but jealous of her story telling ability and gall to post it in a blog.  Kudos Heather!   (If you think I'm even remotely funny or entertaining, you should check out her blog)

So, as inspired by her I thought I'd maybe not start it up again, but at least post a blog since I have a bit of a funny story to tell.  At least I think its funny, and I know Erica will appreciate it ;)  Its about a boy.   I have purposefully not friended said boy or let him in on my blog.  I'm not sure why.  I jokingly say its because then I can talk about him.  Which is kinda true, except I haven't really talked about him, and we have mutual friends who would make so much fun of me.  If they see this, I will never live it down. 

Regardless, here goes.

Back in June, my brother in law had his company picnic.  Being the family nanny and also chomping at the bit to do anything social, I was of course in attendance.  While sipping a glass of champagne with a friend, I off offhandedly say, "who's the Cute Red Head playing frisbee?"  My friend, knowing my penchant for red heads and being ginger herself jumps at the opportunity (unbeknownst to me).  At dinner the Cute Red Head just happens to sit next to me and we chat a bit.  It was all a little awkward and he seemed really shy.  The whole group of us had a pleasant time and that was the end of it. 

Oh but it wasn't.

A little bit of back story to make scene 2 makes sense.  Most of you know that I am currently job hunting for a public health job and that my brother in law runs a health related online company here in Boston.  Because of this, he has been helping me network with his contacts.  I had a lunch about 2 weeks ago with an older gentleman named Mike who has worked in public health in Boston for something like 35 years.  He's a good person to have a professional lunch with.  After leaving the lunch, carrying Julia in her bucket with me, I happen to see the Cute Red Head eating in the lobby of the office.  I nod hello, and silently exit the building. 

The next day, I happen to be back in Chicago driving with Jessica when I get an email from Mo (who also works for my brother in law and is connected in public health) about jobs.  At the very end of the email she says "Oh, and Michael asked for your number.  Its on your resume, but I wanted to check with you before I gave it out."  I immediately got excited that Mike had some jobs contacts for me and it was the big break I've been working for.  I respond "of course!  I meant to send Mike my resume, please do pass my number along."  Then I went on my merry weekend having fun and trying to hide my anticipation for a job interview coming my way.

Come Monday, back in Boston.  While eating dinner with the Heywoods a call comes through with an unknown number.  An unfortunate side to job hunting is that every single unknown number that comes to my phone I automatically think is potential job.  The caller says his name is Michael from PLM (brother in laws company).  At first I thought he said Pier One (why?) and thought it was a telemarketer, which is just not cool on the cell phone.  He repeats, we get on same page.  Michael invites me to drinks with him and some other PLM people the upcoming Friday.  I automatically say yes, if someone who has contacts to get my a job want to grab drinks, I will.  End of story. 

But that's when I start to question why this gentleman who is at least my father's age would be inviting me to drinks.  Thinking that is almost inappropriate and not sure what to say.  My mind trying to make sense of this situation, I start wondering why this older, most likely married man would even be hanging out with the young nerdy programmer guys (who I had previously learned play rock band and grab drinks on Friday nights). 

Thats when it hits me.  I don't even know how I got to the conclusion because I was completely unaware of Cute Red Head's real name.  But I suddenly knew without a doubt that Cute Red Head was Michael, who got my number from Mo and was asking me out on a date.  A strangely group date, but still a date. 

I reluctantly and nervously went to the office that Friday totally expecting it to be horribly awkward and a huge mistake.  And at first it was.  I had to interrupt my brother in law in a meeting to let me in.  When I walk upstairs to the lobby there's 4 or 5 guys all sitting on the couch together watching Futurama on the projection screen.  Nerds.  This was not going to be good.  They said hi, but otherwise left me to play Words on my phone until the show ended. By then I'm considering going home already.  My brother in law's brother Jamie (am I related to him??)  comes out and we chat a bit.  I finally ask him where the beer is.  Feeling it would be too mean to leave, I decide to have one beer and if its still horrible, make up some excuse to go.  Jamie looks at the guys and berates them loudly saying "Do you know who she is?! She is the bosses sister, she watches his kids and has a Masters Degree.  Someone get the girl a beer!" 

Thanks Jamie.  We really needed more awkwardness there.  Regardless, I get a beer and thankfully, the show being over everyone gets up and they do actually talk to me.  We hang around long enough for me to finish my beer then a small group of us walk to a nearby restaurant.  Dinner and drinks go surprisingly well, conversation is good, everyone's really nice, and Cute Red Head is not as shy as I remember him being.  (I just don't know how to handle Shy).  Our group grows then dwindles.  4 of us left we decide to go catch a comedy show that a guy who had been there earlier was in.  The other couple drop out to go home on the way, leaving me panicking at the thought of being alone with Cute Red Head and I'm convinced the conversation is going to die with just two of us.  Much to my surprise the conversation continues to flow.  We go to comedy show, then grab some more drinks, then walk along the river back to my car.  A surprisingly positive ending to the most awkward meeting of two people. Ever.