MLK Means Mandatory Volunteering

The door outside the theater

Yes, I know it actually means Martin Luther King. But as an AmeriCorps service member (my technical title), it means a mandatory work day; specifically, a mandatory volunteer day. Let's just say I had a less than stellar attitude about waking up early on my day off to volunteer because someone told me I had to. I signed up to volunteer at this place called The Arts Exchange, and the two other AmeriCorps girls at my site signed up, too (though only one actually showed up, ha).

Frozen fingers - purple for Luwam,
white for me

It was freezing. The inside of the building was colder than outside, and I was in the group working in the basement. The purpose was to paint the theater, classrooms, and some hallways. I painted the basement hallway. It was a creepy basement and a creepy hallway. My first thought was, I've seen this place in a nightmare. It reminded me of Shutter Island or one of those movies about Alcatraz. Or even Sunland, the decrepit mental institute in Tallahassee.

Basements are scary

I did learn a lot about The Arts Exchange, though, and met a couple of the artists who have space there. That was cool part. Luwam and I explored the building on our snack break and wandered through some closed (but not locked :) doors. It used to be an elementary school until some community group bought it so artists and dancers and whoever else can use it. Like Vampire LARP-ing and a martial arts studio (seriously). I like community stuff like that - people who love and care for an old building and use it for some offbeat purpose. One of the artists had a pretty awesome mohawk and a really cool earring (making the whole thing way more legit). Another looked like a pirate, sans the parrot.

Geared up

So was the day as terrible as I thought it would be? Yeah, kinda. Those things are always unorganized, I probably have some form of asbestos poisoning, and my fingers would have gotten gangrene if I'd stayed 10 minutes longer. But I warmed up to the actual Arts Exchange - the building and what it does - and I had fun making up songs while painting in the basement. One was about asbestos dust using Luwam's name, sung to the tune of "Look Down" from Les Mis. So even though it was not awesome, it wasn't a total waste. And we left early to get Panera.

Newsie Yearsie

Snugging with Josie and Max

This year, I spent New Years in Florida with my parents, sister, and niece. Mi madre went to bed first, around 9:30pm, and Sarah made it until a little after 10. My dad stayed up the longest with me - finally calling it a night about 11:30pm - so it was Josie, Max, and I who kept cozy on the couch and watched Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin in Times Square.

And I'm not a big resolution setter, though that seems to be a big part of things. It's way too much pressure and causes me undue anxiety to reflect on the past year and come up with some big, life-changing ideas. But I do think goals are a good idea, and there are some things I probably could do. Like stretching. I think stretching will be a goal. My hip flexors are tighter than a electromagnet's copper coil (interesting fact: did you know the Florida State University, my dear alma mater, has the world's largest electromagnet in it's Mag Lab? My sister also did several elementary school science projects involving electromagnets). So, stretching. And reading some Buechner every day. I like Buechner. There. Two things to try and do this new year. Booyah.

Christmas Post #2

Well, it should actually be #1 because my sappy reflections on my freakin' fantastic niece follow from the week of Christmas, but I wrote my Lilabug one first because she is freakin' fantastic. So here's what else happened:

I spent the entire week from Christmas Eve through New Year's Day in Florida at my parents' house. My sister and niece were there. For the first time in my life (seriously) I attended my home church's Christmas Eve service - that would be the church I grew up in, am a member of, and will always be a member of unless a magical unicorn tells me to join somewhere else. We usually go to Catholic mass on Christmas Eve with my family, but since my grandma died things have been different. We did get together with family post-Protestant church service to do the traditional dinner and gift exchanging. My 4-year old cousin Thomas told me to "Go away!" when I sat next to him. I didn't. I scooted a little closer.

Christmas Day was something different, too. It was on a Sunday this year, and since I'm avidly opposed to too much church in one weekend, I didn't go (just kidding. Well, not about the not going. I didn't go. It's just that I'm not a fan of going to church on Christmas Day. A little weird, a little psycho? Yeah maybe, but whatev). The rest of my family went, though, except for Lila. She and I hung out at home and played. I felt a little bad about not going, not because I was missing out on church but because Sarah was playing handbells (a nod to our teenage years of handbells and youth choir). But I really enjoyed the time with Lila and not having to get out of my pajamas.

The rest of the week was nice. I slept in until I heard Lilian babbling, and then I got up and tackled her (followed by getting back in bed for a little bit. It was a holiday, after all). I played with Lil, seriously kicked some puzzle ass, watched some movies, and read two books (Harry Potter 7 for the 3rd time, and the first book of The Hunger Games. It was awesome). I also saw a couple of friends, started making a spoon ring, and went to church on New Year's Day (but not New Year's Eve. Don't get crazy).

Yes, I drink my bottles in a tutu

Who is the boss? I am the boss, not you! Not you!