Unemployment: So exciting it makes the world tremble in fear

Yesterday, I was on my computer, reading the news, gchatting with folks and halfheartedly looking up job openings when I felt my legs shake. At first I thought my legs were being weird, perhaps rebelling against me for two consecutive days of yoga. Then the shaking intensified and I got frustrated at my landlord, thinking, "Look, I know no one else is home right now because they all are good citizens with jobs, working to better our society, but I AM HOME and I PAY TO LIVE HERE so please desist with the renovations downstairs." That's when the glasses in the kitchen started to shake and my microwave almost fell off its cart, and I came to the realization that it wasn't renovations. So I looked out my window. Nothing. Then my friend in New York City asked me if I had felt something, and I was finally able to piece it all together.Roanoke is about 150 miles southwest from Mineral, VA where the earthquake originated, but as everyone knows from the abundance of news stories, everyone is fine, nothing went wrong, etc etc. It was unexpected because... we never have earthquakes here, as evidenced by my complete ignorance as to what was occurring. Friends as far north as Montreal said they felt the quake.

Funemployment has, thus far, meant large amounts of cleaning and forcing myself to "exercise" because I know I have no excuse now. After two days of yoga, today I opted to combine exercise with cleaning and vacuumed. Hey, hey, it's totally cardio. Stop laughing.

Let's discuss vacuums, shall we? When I moved into this apartment, my parents gave me their old vacuum so they could get a new one. And by "gave" I mean they didn't want their old one anymore because it was awful but have issues throwing things out so I got stuck with it. Whenever used, it would emit clouds of dust, leaving whatever roomed you vacuumed smelling like dirt. Curiously, the clear bagless part never seemed to fill up with anything, either. My theory? It picked up the dust from the floor and spread it around your room until it resettled to the floor you just theoretically cleaned. Your room doesn't even get to SMELL clean - it's awful.

In my effort to deep-clean the apartment for lack of anything better to do with my time, I asked Brittannica if I could borrow her new vacuum. This morning, I woke up early like a kid on Christmas morning, and vacuumed away. Let me tell you... after months, nay YEARS, of a dreadful vacuum, this was like vacuuming with unicorns and elves. This thing cleans and my apartment even has those fun vacuum lines on the carpet! This thing is legit, let me tell you.

So that's my life right now. Earthquake. Fake, half-assed exercise. Cleaning. Throw in some job hunting and you've got a pretty good picture of my day-to-day. Please, withhold your jealousy.

(Image cred to the hilarious tumblr jmckinley and his representation of DC's 2010 earthquake devastation)

It's Official! I'm out of shape.

Mousey, as he has now been named in the apartment (I know, we shouldn't have named him. This was not my doing), is still out and about, being far too smart to take the traps we've laid out for him. I've taken to clapping and loudly announcing my presence in the kitchen so he knows to hide. This does in fact mean I look certifiably insane every time I go to get a drink/make dinner/throw something out. -clap clap- "I'M COMING IN MOUSE, HIDE YOURSELF!" -clap clap-

Back in March, there was a Groupon in Roanoke that offered zip lining and wall climbing for $20 out in New Castle (a happening town with a gas station and a Subway). Both OfficeMate and I purchased this Groupon, and it's actually been the only one we've purchased as of since. Roanoke's new to the Groupon scene, and most of the offers are for spas or mail-order food. But hey, $20 for wall climbing and a zip line is a damn good deal, so we went ahead and nabbed it.

First off, when you're banking on your iphone to get you to a location where there is little to no cell reception, you're going to get lost. Especially when your phone tells you to make a left and drive two miles, when in reality you're supposed to go RIGHT and drive two miles. Awesome.

When we finally reached the place, it was packed full of people camping, canoeing, biking, and every other outdoorsy pasttime imaginable. Besides just arriving late, we then spent about half an hour walking around trying to find a main office and employees. That being said, once we found the office and the employees, the zip lining was good fun and the climbing wall was awesome. I struggled twice, though. Yes, we only did two activities and I struggled during both. To get to the top of the zip line, there was a pretty decently steep hike. Being unprepared, neither of us had come with water nor had we eaten anything all day, and the employee was BOOKING it to the top of the hill. I should come with a warning: Not as in shape as I appear. Then, THEN, the climbing wall. I climbed up the first half like a champ, and then I paused. Not only did I not know where to go next because all the rock-like things were too small, I was also horribly out of breath. I somehow made it to the top of the wall and thought about victoriously raising my arms Rocky-style, but opted against it.

We left and high-tailed it to a gas station for some granola bars and gatorade. I was hurting. Not only was a starving and dehydrated, I HURT. I hurt the next morning. I hurt the next afternoon. Then I hurt two mornings later and knew I was just pathetic. I've been doing yoga to try to fix this. Most likely it will be to no avail and I'll give up in a week. Damn you, exercise, my lifelong nemesis.

Sports. Why I suck at them, and the ones I don't understand.

Ah, sports. My nemesis. I never had much luck with them.

Tee Ball always posed a problem because I was better at hitting the tee than the ball.
Baseball was just a disaster altogether. Shame on whoever decided I was worthy of moving up to the next level in ball-bat combo sports. Let's thank our lucky stars I never tried my hand at cricket.
I had many acceptable years in soccer - nine to be exact. But... we were club soccer, and we weren't exactly the star-studded team. In our awesome mustard-yellow jerseys, I think the Potomac Kiwanas won a grand total of maybe one "championship" in the almost entire decade I played with them. Defense was my forte, because it required far less aim. I was once awarded the Sportsmanship Award, which, and God help me if I ever admit this to my children, is the "you tried but still suck" award. I'm okay with it - no really, I am.
Basketball. 6th grade. I was 12 years old. I'd really rather just not acknowledge that this ever happened.
I took some tennis lessons in seventh grade, and that was okay so long as I didn't play on a team. I'm actually not even completely against volleying for the sake of volleying. I just don't like competitive things, mainly because losing time and time again was just scarring as a child.
In high school, I accepted that things which involved coordination were not for me. So I joined cross country. That couldn't be too hard - you run, there are no balls, no sticks, no goals involved. You don't have to pass to anyone, the main person you disappoint when you walk half the meet is yourself, not your team, and you just follow the people in front of you (I always wondered how the people in the front of the meet knew where to run. Who did they follow? Those signs were never enough for me). Then my knee got busted, WAY busted. So I stopped running altogether, did some physical therapy, and just kind of quit exercising. Okay Universe, I get it. Don't exercise.

I've followed that to this day, pretty much. I run sometimes, but nothing like before. In college for a while I was doing yoga and pilates regularly. But as for sports, it's just better if I watch them. I love me some FCBarcelona, tennis matches (yeah Nadal! Okay, okay maybe I just like watching Spaniards in sports), I'll even watch some basketball with OfficeMate. But there are a few sporting events which just baffle me.

1. Golf. I get bored.
2. Nascar. See above.
3. Wrestling.

Which brings us to...
I attended a WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment) event last night. Some of you might be more familiar with it's older name, WWF, but that name was trademarked by the World Wildlife Foundation (and their super sweet panda logo that I used to have on a tote when I was like eight). A dear friend had tickets she got through her job, so Britannica and I tagged along. I over-analyzed various aspects of the evening: What to wear (to be fair, I was all decked out in JCrew and Ann Taylor), proper etiquette (you need none), and that I had no idea what to expect (I don't know if knowing what to expect would have helped me out at all).

So off I went in my "grunged down" outfit of Banana Republic jeans and shirt from the Gap (...there's a sign I didn't belong there) to watch men (and apparently women. Check you out, WWE, being all equal opportunity!) wrestle. As it turns out, there's a freaking backstory behind everything in wrestling. As my friend put it, "I feel like we're watching Days of Our Lives and missed the first 15 years!" There were villains, what I think might have been a feud over a girl (I'm still not sure), and men in itty bitty tight briefs who look like they had been covered in I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Butter Spray. Mad props for well choreographed fights in some instances though! (Other instances... they don't deserve props)People were INTO this stuff. While slippery men bitch-slapped one another and made awkward grunting noises, Britannica and I had a ridiculous analytical conversation regarding how this is just as much a form of escapism as video games or a good read. That's why it's World Wrestling ENTERTAINMENT, not a federation. Needless to say, I felt horribly out of place, but I was pleasantly entertained (moreso by the man in front of us with the winning mullet/tye dye combo, but yknow). When in Rome, do as the Romans do. And in Roanoke, this odd little version of Rome, you watch "wrestling" where at one point, someone gets hit with some stairs.

Every now and then, the three of us would just turn to each other and say, "I don't understand!" "What's going on?" "Who's this guy?" "Why does this man have a leopard print cape?" "Why is his butt covered in so many sparkles?" and my most-uttered question of the evening, "I wonder how you get into this line of work....?"

I learned a LOT, though. I always talk about how I want to live like the locals, and I definitely did last night. Also, I was able to experience something I wouldn't have otherwise. I think that, with that, I don't need to go to any golf tournaments or NASCAR races. I don't care if I'm close to Martinsville. I'll stick to polo matches in Charlottesville at wineries, thank you.

Uphill Climb

As I write this, I am frantically running back and forth to my kitchen, lovingly adding more chicken broth to my risotto and giving it a nice little mix. With a glass of wine. And then I intend to eat my risotto with chopsticks, because I haven't used them since I've moved to this town. So, it's more or less an average evening.

I have, as of late, but wherefore I know not (spot the nerd reference), developed an unhealthy obsession with Mad Men. I've stopped reading and now spend my free time completely engulfed in the lives of Don Draper and Peggy. Oh, Peggy. How did you manage to get yourself a private office, at 22, as a female in an advertising agency in 1960? I don't even get a door on my shared office. You're my hero. Let's be best friends.

OfficeMate and I successfully climbed to McAfee's Knob this past weekend. Well, climbed is a very strong word for what I did. I huffed. I sat on a log and was passed by children and people legitimately doing the Appalachian Trail with massive backpacks. I shamed OfficeMate by making him stop, too. He climbed. I huffed.Aside from my being shamefully out of shape (It was hot! I was getting over a cold! We only brought one water bottle! I ran cross country nine years ago! Doesn't that count for anything anymore?), the view at the top was absolutely worth it. The view is absolutely breathtaking, and I'm embarrassed it took me until now to get out there. It honestly is not that far from where I'm currently living. I am also now one of those cliche people with a facebook photo of themselves at the top. Sue me.

And finally, sadly, I've begun job hunting again. Much like my hike this weekend, I'm horribly out of shape. If you're a prospective employer, hey, what's up? Let's chat sometime. Job hunting is soul-crushing work. I've said it before and I'll say it again; the whole process is like a bad dating scene. "Hey, I think we'd be great together! I like combating (insert nonprofit mission statement here), too! We should get together sometime. No, I'm looking for something long-term. I think we'd work really well together. Please give me a shot! I THINK YOU'RE CUTE! PLEASE CALL ME!"

Ah, the joys of being back here, not even 12 months since the last time.

Exercise, Easter, Books.

Remember when I first moved and said I was going to exercise at least thirty minutes a week? Well, not surprisingly, that never happened. I got in a few runs here and there, but for the most part, I have spent October to late April being a horribly sedentary person. I'd find any reasonable excuse to avoid exercising. "It's raining," or, "I don't want to re-do my hair," (I've used that logic before), or, my personal favorite, "But I should make a big breakfast full of bacon and butter instead."

About a week ago, I went to put on a pair of capris I bought last summer and they were ... snug. This realization made me stop finding excuses to eat instead of exercise. As of since, I have run twice (or was it once?) and done yoga twice! I unrolled my yoga mat for the first time... since I moved here. It's shameful, really. My yoga instructor, Chaz, is available when I am, and doesn't ever say anything when I'm absent for many a month. He also charges $0 per class, unlike the studio down the street. ($12? Please. You have an interesting interpretation of the poverty level.) The point is, together, Chaz and I are going to combat lethargy! (The image to the left bears zero resemblance to me actually doing yoga)

Today is Easter. Which truly just translates to homesickness. I went to Easter mass alone and reminisced about childhoods where hidden chocolate bunnies met untimely demises thanks to Mr. Sun. In an attempt to bring Easter tradition to the apartment, I went out and bought some ham steaks for dinner. They were ... alright. I was slightly disappointed. The jelly beans I bought on sale compensated, though.

Now, the office is closed for the week for Spring Break, which means I have a week of relaxation ahead. I had intended on attempting various hikes, but the weather does not look as though it will go along with my plans. I'll be thrilled to get in one hike. Thunderstorms are forecast through Thursday.

This means instead I shall be spending this week getting reacquainted with my Old Lady Chair. Since moving to Roanoke, I've been tearing through some literature, and I would like to continue this trend this week. I'm on my third consecutive Garrison Keillor book, and would you believe it took me until book three to get to Lake Wobegon Days?

So there you have it. When given a week off, AmeriCorps volunteers plan on which retiring NPR personality's literature to delve into. They also tell themselves they'll get into shape (I give myself a week of these lies). Easter brings new life, indeed!

(Book suggestions, along with ways to spend time when it's rainy and your ceiling still leaks are always welcome!)

Geocaching and Kitchen Adventures

I spend a lot of time trying to find ways to pass the time in Roanoke. Generally, I get disillusioned after only finding information for shuffleboard tournaments and girl scout award ceremonies, but sometimes something comes up that seems legitimately interesting.

One of the blogs I follow, Rage Against the Minivan, mentioned geocaching. Upon further observation and some solid researching (thanks, Wikipedia!), I learned that it's really just a scavenger hunt for nerds. They even have a legit site for which you need a login. People hide waterproof containers in random locations, and then you get to find it using your GPS device. Or, in my and OfficeMate's case - our iPhones. Sometimes they're filled with fun trinkets, and the idea is if you take something, you leave something as well.

So we did what any normal 20-something in Roanoke would do (because honestly, there can't be more than like 5 more of us) - we went geocaching. There's a park-ish type area a few blocks from our place, so off we went. We began with the caches ranked one-star, or the most simple, and ended up scaling some serious cliffs, and later, walking on some now-out-of-use railroad tracks. Child-friendly? Please. Keep in mind, I of course, was not dressed for this occasion and was scaling cliffs in traction-less flats and trying to keep my Raybans from falling off my head.

After approximately an hour or so of this madness, I began to think this whole thing was a hoax. It was some master plan created by the internet to make two people in Roanoke look like idiots in their neighborhood and potentially trespass for the second time in two weeks. I also questioned whether this was a Peter Pan type scenario - that perhaps we were just too old to properly geocache - since it is really created for children.And then I spotted it. A flash of white inside a tree trunk. At first I thought it was my awful eyes seeing what they wanted to see, but no! It was there! A plastic container with a sheet to sign claiming you had found it, full of fun things for the taking. I took a magic capsule (currently growing into what I can only hope is a dinosaur) in exchange for an old cell phone charm from high school. Walking back to the apartment, we spotted the initial one we were searching for just by chance - of course. I still have a lone monkey from a barrel of monkeys that I need to give to another geocache, so there's still at least one adventure left in this department. Also, I'm telling myself this totally counts as exercise.

Meanwhile, in my kitchen...
When my sister came to visit, she brought with her a bag of spinach, courtesy of my mother. Not being sure what to do with it, I left it for a few days. On Monday, I used my fancy Epicurious app (quite possibly my favorite one on my phone) and found a recipe for Bibimbap. I threw in some spinach and carrots, and had to stop there for lack of space in my bowl. Now, I am far from Korean, and I've had legitimate Bibimbap two or three times, and while mine was not nearly as tasty, it was still pretty solid and not half bad for a Latina trying to be Asian for one night.

This morning, I made sour cream pancakes to rid myself of sour cream that had been building up since Mexican a few nights back. Also courtesy of the Epicurious app, and also delicious. All my culinary successes from the week (I OWNED that spaghetti!) had made me ambitious, and I decided to try a souffle. A spinach-mushroom Parmesan-Chevre souffle.

He's beautiful, as you can see. However, I folded my egg whites in all wrong, ruining the consistency towards the center. Seeing as he was my very first souffle though, I shall continue to be proud of myself.

The Best....

Hiking
I went hiking this weekend.
I've been talking about going hiking in this neck of the woods since I applied for this job back in May (June?), and have just gotten around to it.
Britannica invited me for a family/girls-night sort of weekend to be held at Granny's house. Granny is Britannica's 75+ grandmother who cooks obscene amounts of homemade biscuits and really any other kind of food you could possibly imagine, knits house slippers for her guests (mine are blue and yellow!), and keeps a shotgun in her bathroom to shoot the groundhogs in the backyard, of course.

Granny lives in a neighboring valley down some serious back roads, and her front porch wins the prize for best view in the state, looking out onto some seriously majestic parts of the Blue Ridge. She had an uncle who deserted from WWI and lived in the mountains for seven years, with his mother leaving him food every few days (I apologize for my paraphrasing of what is truly an incredible tale. I can't do it justice). Granny is, in short, fantastic.
We, being four of us ladies while Granny stayed home, went for a hike mid-morning up to an area called The Devil's Marbleyard (for more info, check this out). Essentially, one hikes up to a rockface with boulders the size of Mr. Merlot. I initially clambered around the rocks precariously, but soon enough was putting my hamstrings to the test and doing some impressive maneuvering. I'm still not sure how I didn't die. It was great. The following photo is brought to you by my ghetto camera phone, because my real camera had dead batteries. Yes, this was my view from the top.
The Best
Today, I was asked what was the best moment I've had since I moved. My initial response was my hike this weekend because, honestly, did you see that view?? Pair that view with some phenomenal hiking companions and general joviality, and it made for one hell of a day.

However, while Saturday was incredible, it was not the top moment. My top moment has probably been one nondescript afternoon while driving home. That moment where the windows are down, the sun is setting over the mountains, the family-friendly radio station is cranking out some hit from 1955, and I know I'm trying my best at work - that's the moment where I am most contended, knowing I live in the most beautiful place on earth doing the best work I can.

Trying. Trying to exercise, learn the area, make friends, plot poo

I went running the other day.
Prior to leaving Roanoke, I made a list of goals I would like to accomplish while here. Some are of a more personal nature, some are plain dull, but if you know me at all, this next one is rather laughable.

I vowed to exercise at least thirty minutes a week.

Yes, the number is low. But I don't like exercising. I figure if I aim my sights low, I'll actually be able to achieve it and feel somewhat proud of myself. This brings us back to the fact that I went running the other day. I figured I'd be fine with Señor Ipod and Mr. Cell Phone, and headed out the door. I was speeding (read as: huffing) along, feeling unfathomably accomplished, when Señor Ipod failed me. Buena Vista Social Club was no longer blaring out of my headphones and I was forced to stop (read as: was grateful for the excuse to stop). I suddenly realized I had absolutely no idea where I was. There were some houses here and there, but the main thing I could see were mountains.... everywhere.
My train of thought at this moment:
I'M LOST! Wow, how did I run up this far? Good job, self! You ran up hills! It's gorgeous up here! Maybe I'll walk down this street. Oh, it's a dead end. Here's a trail! That's a creek - I don't want a creek. Where the hell am I? Damnit, I have to finish my run. I don't know how to get back. Ughh I am far too lazy to run back. I'll call someone.

My lovely friend from college came to my rescue, and Google-mapped me out of my disaster.

Lesson learned: perhaps I should keep my 30 minutes of exercise to places I know. A coworker wants to play tennis together soon, so assuming she doesn't want to keep score or thinks I have any ounce of skill in my body, we should be golden.

I also decided I should explore the area. Now, as my father’s daughter, I did this the proper way - the scenic way. I knew there was one massively long and winding road that went up the mountains, and I was determined to find it. So after church on Sunday, still in a dress and Cole Hahn sandals, I went off on my escapade. I drove up this mountain, windows down, and an old mix cd from high school playing. At one point, the road stopped going up, and I began to drive down a mountain. This is not what I had expected. I wanted to only go up , not down.

So I did what any, logical, GPS-less Banks would do. I pulled over to the side of a mountain, teetering on the edge, and unfolded my massive map. My massive map, however, was of no use. Why, you ask? Because I was on a long, winding road with a speed limit of 15, with no intersections. I had no idea where I was ON the road. I turned around, with impressive skill, and about sixteen-points.

On the drive down Mr. Massive Mountain, I pulled over again to take some photos. Photos turned into an impromptu hike, until I saw a car coming up the road and remembered that my windows were down, the car was unlocked, and just having my flashers on doesn’t legitimize a car being inconveniently located on a winding road. As I was walking back, some nice old couple asked me if I needed help with my car. “No, I’m just going for a walk, but thanks!” was my actual response.

I brought a friend home with me. A giant spider. Sadly, his unexpected presence on my foot while I was driving brought our friendship to an untimely end. RIP, buddy. Sorry about that.

Office Updates!
A few things have been going on at work. For one, I am realizing how much I need to learn before I can be legitimately useful. It’s a slow process because there’s so much to take in, but every day something clicks, and by the end of this, I am determined to have fundraising DOWN.

An exciting accomplishment at work is that my snack drawer is good to go! Loaf of bread, peanut butter, jelly, pretzels, hummus and veggies in the fridge. I'm set for the next few weeks, and can also feed my entire office in the incident of a massive lock down in this town of 8,000.

I’ve been compiling a list of businesses in the area which is currently over 600 entries long, and about fifteen times a day I find myself asking OfficeMate, “Do you know where ___ is?” Generally, he doesn’t, because they’re small towns, and I end up googling them. Well, I’ve begun to write down the best ones. This includes winners such as Rustburg, VA and Pittsville, VA. Low Moor, VA has something like 350 people.

Naturally, these places sound so off the beaten path that, again as my father’s daughter, I want to see them. I’m mentally preparing a road trip to do something dull in every single one of these locations. (Tie my shoe in Rustburg. Cough in Pittsville. You get the idea.) My travel companion will, most likely, be Planty, my beloved geranium. Why my plant? Because I have no friends here. And I probably never will, because I bring plants on road trips.

At our staff meeting this week, we discussed creative fundraising ideas. Someone mentioned “Cow-Plop Bingo.” This is, and I kid you not, when one plots out some land such as a football field into 100 squares or so. You charge people a chunk of change per square, and then you let a cow saunter around aforementioned field that has been plotted out. Then you wait for the cow to take a dump. Yes. You bet on where a cow poos. Whoever owns the square the cow has pooped on gets some percentage of the total, and the rest are your earnings.

Welcome to the South, self.

Office Sing-Alongs are now a regular occurrence. After a week of flamenco music, OfficeMate and I now rock out to Classic Rock on a regular basis. Thanks, Zepplin, Rolling Stones and an unhealthy amount of CCR for common musical ground! We have the cool office.

Such is life in the ‘Noke. Everyday, I drive through mountains listening to NPR tell legitimate news stories with a slight pull at my heartstrings (“They didn’t honor the Vietname vet until he had Alzheimer's?! FOR SHAME!”), I sit at a desk with the opportunity to learn so many great new things every day, I work with exceptional people, and then drive home through the same fantastic mountains blasting salsa music with the windows down, and I am convinced that no one has a better life than me. It’s a simple one, it still has various kinks to work out, but I am happy every. single. day. I have never regretted the decision to move out here, not even for a moment.