I Think On Paper

I consider myself a crafty person — in all senses of the word.

But recently I was upstaged. Bamboozled. Perplexed.

By an iron on elephant.

A friend of mine, Sierra, commended offhandedly that she would love to have an elephant. (I believe this was after taking her nephews to the circus as she does not normally state wildlife related desires flippantly.)

I was at Hobby Lobby, where I spotted a cute iron on elephant. I bought it, hoping to make Sierra’s day. I came home and heated up the iron, read the directions and set up the items. I was going to iron the elephant, whom I had lovingly named Ellie, onto a tote bag. Stylish and functional — the best combination!

I ironed for the recommended amount of time. Slowly removed the iron and cloth and found the elephant mobile without any adhesion to the bag. I replaced items and started again, leaving the iron on for double the amount of time.

No stick.

Repeat with five times the recommended ironing time and increased iron temperature.

Nada.

Re-read directions while iron sitting for 15 minutes on bag. Noting the “Skill level one: Beginner” branding in the corner.

Partial stick.

At least we’re getting somewhere!

I repeated the process for almost an hour until I finally coaxed Ellie from her comfortable place on the plastic sheet to her new home on the canvas bag.

Voila!

It took an hour (sixty times the time recommended on the packaging mind you!) But I finished it. During that hour I had a lot of time to think about what I was doing. I was spending an excessive amount of time trying to surprise a friend and make her smile. I was doing something unexpected and special that required forethought. I was giving more than a fun little bag, I was showing a friend that she was in my thoughts and that I listened to her random wildlife longings. Although Ellie the Elephant almost defeated me with her non-adhering ways, all was being done in love for a friend.

And that is always time well spent.

My lunch made me cry.

We’re talking, all out –tears streaming down my face, snot escaping from my nose, unable to see through the haze — cry.

I saw the sign. It had “HOT” stamped across the box, but my eyes were drawn more to the “Clearance” sticker and thought I’d take a stab at it.

Only my food repaid me by stabbing my insides… repeatedly. It was as if the first few bites were the scouts, sent in to check out the surroundings. Everything seemed fine, so I kept eating. Then the battle started. The spice level reached maximal scorchiness in the furnace of my stomach and began escaping through the chimney of my esophagus, causing me to reach max sweat-pacity at an ever alarming pace!

It was an ugly sight. See?

I should have known my limits. But I was foolhardy, ignoring the signs and the ever increasing heat in my gut and, in the end, I paid for my decision with tears of overconfidence. This was an avoidable fate! Never should my food make me cry anything other than tears of joy due to utter deliciousness!

But how often do I do this in other areas of life? How often do I ignore the initial signs of danger, the lure of temptations, the call of sin? How often to I overestimate my ability to handle it or resist it? How often do I cry tears of overconfidence because of my sins or failures?

More often than I’d like to admit. 

But there is good news. I am not alone in my struggles.

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are,yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. (Hebrews 4:15-16).

Mercy and Grace. Someone who understands. Draw near with confidence in Him.

And avoid spicy foods.

I was awkwardly hit on last week.

By a guy who was tall, dark and handsome, with bulging biceps, and long flowing locks.

Oh yeah, and he was fictional. Did I fail to mention that?

I met Gaston at the Magic Kingdom last week with my friend Nathan. Gaston was fully in character — strutting with oodles of swagger, winking, flirting and generally macking on the ladies. He thought highly of himself and made sure everyone agreed with him. He was a fantastic cast member and made me giggle and enjoy my meet and greet immensely — as you can see by my reaction to his “biceps to spare!”

Then I started thinking. If this guy hadn’t been wearing a Gaston costume, he would have been a total creep! I would have avoided him and his narcissism completely relying on Nathan for flanking and protection. I certainly wouldn’t have waited in line to get my picture taken with him! In life, costumes and context make a huge difference. I would have focused on his faults and pride. Without his costume to affect the way I viewed him, he would have seemed unattractive and off putting.

It got me thinking about my own costumes. How do I present myself? What do I put on to affect how others view me? Do I want to be seen as the therapist with all the answers? Or seen as the humble Christian who never struggles? Or the lady who has her life together and offers constant help, but never needs help herself? What would it take for me to take off my costumes and let others see the real me? The one who has victories, but also defeats. The one who struggles, doesn’t always know the answer, and needs help and encouragement. How attached to my costume am I?

What costumes are you wearing? How would you like others to see you?

Cheeky, Cheeky

Lives up to his name.

Cheeky, Cheeky

Enjoys Christmas games.

Cheeky, Cheeky

Hides in tight spaces.

Cheeky, Cheeky

Moves without traces!

Here’s a loving look at Cheeky’s shenanigans this Christmas.

Cheeky hangs around, lolligagging.

Watching us from up above ( and getting dusty!)

He learned about Physics…

And then practiced feats of bodily physics (gymnastics!)

Exhausted from his energy expenditure, he lounged and watched a little Netflix.

He subtly reminded us to hang our Advent ornament each day.

And somehow found time to start dating, Mollie, the Elfette on the Shelf(ette)!

And in the midst of all his shenanigans, Cheeky found time to kneel with the wise men and worship the new born King.

Merry Christmas full of joy, laughter, hope (and shenanigans) from Cheeky and Kelly

Last year I bemoaned the fact that my life is in many ways unchanging. I worked at the same job, lived in the same house, and had my well-worn routines in life. No longer.

I have coined 2013 as “the year of adulthood” for me. I find myself repeatedly asking, “What would an adult do?” when making decisions. A giant portion of my year was spent praying about my job situation. I enjoyed my job as an occupational therapist helping stroke patients, but it did not provide benefits and the hours were becoming less guaranteed, so I began the job hunt. I searched far and near and ended up scoring a fantastic full time job working in NICU and pediatrics of all kinds. I love that this job relies on my strong sensory processing knowledge base and keeps me on my toes. Kids come to the hospital for everything from prematurity to cancer to heart surgery to epilepsy to falling off the monkey bars and breaking their arms. It’s a challenge to make therapy into play, but if I’m doing my job well, the kids just think they’re playing, they don’t realize they are getting stronger or practicing difficult skills! The patient population, coworkers, and benefits (hello, adulthood!) have all been a blessing.

Also, although I technically live in the same house, we got new carpet this summer so I moved out of and into my own house. I’m counting that as a major change since I had to play a game of “packing Tetris” and fit my entire bedroom into my bathroom. As a child of the 80’s, I had no trouble with this having logged dozens of Tetris hours in my youth!

Other adult-ish decisions:

• I go to bed on time knowing that I’ll be a cranky mess if I don’t!
• I attended a financial planning class where I had to budget, calculate necessary numbers for retirement, and let my teacher peer into my check book.
• I paid off all debts! The primary focus of the financial course was debt reduction. So I got an A!
• I’ve made healthy decisions. A few years ago I went on a hike with some friends and didn’t enjoy it at all. I felt tired and out of breath right at the start. Since then I’ve been on a lengthy path toward health. Trying new recipes, watching what I eat, and exercising have become routines.
• I eat fiber. I’ll leave it at that…
• My friend, Tracy, can make me do crazy things. I felt like I had plateaued in exercise and health last summer and she suggested I should take up running. She even offered to fly down and run my first 5K race with me last November. Race day arrived and I ran the entire 3.1 miles and, at that point, it was the longest I’d ever run! I got hooked on the feeling of accomplishment and the joy of crossing the finish line and I am now in training for a half marathon (13.1 miles) which takes place in February 2014! Planning ahead and avoiding injury are both very adult-ish undertakings!
• I continue to blog and process life at www.IThinkonPaper.com. I think that writing is how I view life the best and I feel healthiest when I am regularly able to write. I post every few days and appreciate comments and feedback! I also have a few other writing projects in the works and meet with my editor, Abby, most Wednesdays to keep hammering away at them!
• I seek balance in life. I have long shifts at the hospital and not much time after I get home before I need to be an adult and go to bed to do it again the next day. I don’t want to be so task-oriented that my relationships suffer. I want my life to be hospitable, to have room for the unplanned, and to be inviting to others.
• I get my Christmas Letters out early! Thanks for reading, friends! I wish you the merriest of Christmases and that this would be a time to renew the excited little kid in each of you!

Love, Kelly

Maybe next year I’ll be cool enough to pull off something like this…

That was the text I just sent.

To my 34 year old roommate. 

Every year in my town, Santa cruises through neighborhoods mounted atop a bedazzled firetruck. He waves at children who stream out of their houses, shouts “Ho! Ho! Ho!” and throws candy.

It’s quite the scene.

Here was my experience. I texted my roommate, “Santa!” as I heard the sirens. I then ran to notify my other roommate (also 34 years old!) to don her shoes and be ready to do some big guy chasing.

She was game. Snagged her shoes and cell phone and literally ran out the door. Now you must picture this. My roommate, Betsy,  is snagged out of bed where she has been non-stop for five days– due partially to marathon studying for finals and partially to a particularly pneumonia-like chest cold.

And she ran to see Santa.

We ran up the main street of our neighborhood and stopped at cross streets to listen cat-like for sirens before choosing our next path.

We found him.

(Looks kinda like Bigfoot, eh?)

Betsy did a dance, spun around, leapt into the air and basically jammed more movement into five seconds than she’d done in five days. It was a beautiful moment of placing adulthood aside for a moment, ignoring the finals, Greek paradigms and mucous lined lungs, to be a kid again and enjoy something freely.

Santa then hurried past, pelting us with peppermints, which we dutifully picked up, crawling on the ground like peasants.

He was quite generous.

We may have been more excited than the children.

Well done, local government, well done. You’d make even Leslie Knope proud with this spectacle!

How can you find small moments of childhood glee in the midst of this busy season?

This is my Elf on the Shelf, Cheeky.

He’s come out of his eleven month hibernation to play again.

So far he’s been pretty tame. Spending time with my roommates and of course, Will Ferrell.

Welcome to the Christmas season, Cheeky. Thank you for being yourself and bringing a little glee to a time that can feel stressful and overwhelming. Here’s to playfulness!

I got a lot of stolen glances on my way into work last Thursday… and not the good kind. People flat out stared, whispered, did double takes, and cocked eye brows.

Then the questions started:

“Are you the super nanny?”

“Are you Canadian?”

Or, my personal favorite:

“Are you from nutritional services? When will my lunch be here?”

I’m not sure exactly what part of my ensemble warranted each of these questions, but they made me giggle. I was told that the pediatric unit had a costume party and they wanted all the staff to participate. So I thought, GoodWill to the rescue!

Here’s what I came up with:

Most of the parents knew who I was, while their youngsters just knew I looked funny. I had a few props like a spoon and sugar, and I was able to pull a canister of oxygen out of my magic carpet bag! I spent $8 at GoodWill and brought a lot of laughter, smiles, and quizzical looks to those I work with.

My day was practically perfect in every way.

My inner Girl Scout fights with my inner MacGyver every time I travel.

Here’s what I mean: I book a flight, pull out luggage, check the weather, make lists, and lay out piles of “necessities” for the trip. Of course I need two pairs of shoes, bug spray, shower shoes, Band-Aids, and two dozen pairs of underpants — you never know what might happen, especially with my track record of wardrobe malfunctions! My inner Girl Scout is delighted with these piles of clothes and supplies and decides that all must make the trip with me.

I mentally measure my luggage and woefully compare it to my pile of stuff.

Then starts the pruning process.

I try to silence my inner “Always be prepared” Girl Scout and accentuate my inner “The more you plan ahead the more things can go wrong” MacGyver.

My inner MacGyver begins asking, “Kelly, do you really need a bathing suit for Boston, in October? Maybe it can go.” Layers! I don’t need a short sleeved AND a long-sleeved shirt for each day. Throw in a black cardigan and call it a win. Two dozen pairs of underpants is whittled down to just one dozen (This is one area where I whole-heartedly endorse overpacking!)

I would estimate that for any given trip, I re-pack and same luggage seven times, pruning and item or two with each reiteration until my true necessities fit into my carry-on luggage, fully zipped, without necessitating a vacuum seal for closure.

I want this packing process to extend into other portions of my life. I don’t need nearly as many things as I think I do. I can do without so many pieces of clothing and items of technology and still have a wonderfully fulfilled life. And, as much of a planner as I am, I want to be okay with changes of plans and roll with the punches so much more than I do.

My continual packing dramedy is an object lesson for me. I will continue to accentuate my “work with what you’ve got” MacGyver voice and silence my “Prepare for all catastrophes” Girl Scout Voice.

How about you? Do you have more Girl Scout or MacGyver in you?