I'm Done! (Essentially)

Dearest internet, I'm sorry it's been so long. You see, tomorrow is my final day as an AmeriCorps*VISTA. Today I packed up my office, organized my desk and my files, and took my most important origami dinosaur with me. I ate my final PB&J at work (let's be honest, there are still many PB&J left in my life), wrote my final, but brief, VISTA report, and wrote a "Welcome to your desk!" letter to my replacement, because I'm a dork.

It's weird to think that just a year ago, I moved down here to start this year, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to combat poverty and take on the world. I've become a little more of a realist, acknowledging that poverty is not solved in a year and there are a multitude of contributing factors to its existence. When I begin to worry that I haven't accomplished all that much, I take a look at my resume, which assures me that I won over $120,000 in funding for nonprofits this year. It assures me that I created a sustainable system for tracking funding prospects this past year, that I began implementing two planned giving campaigns, that I worked with a particularly complicated board of directors, and that I learned much more in one short year than many people do in entry-level development jobs that last three to five years.

My routine will change. Oh goodness, and we all know how I love routines. I get to start looking for glamorous part-time work soon (get pumped, local grocery stores, coffee shops and bookstores! Maybe I should work for a wine distributor) to have some semblance of income while I continue the job hunt. It's one of those things... while I'm sad to be leaving and nostalgia is hitting me like a brick wall, it's time to move on. One year at the poverty level is more than enough. I did what I could at the office, but I had done all I could. As I was packing up the office in my various reusable grocery bags (it's all I had in my car. Stop judging!), it finally sunk in that I was finished at my first job. My first job out of college - I finished it, and I rocked it. It started me on a career path that I am not only hopeful for, I'm excited about. I do love writing proposals, and development work is something I hope to perfect. Perhaps not every aspect, but ... private and corporate funding? We'll see. I still have one more day (of direct service. Yayyyyy painting!).

I have received a few inquiries as to what will happen to the blog post-VISTA, and for now all I can tell you is that I'll at least be writing until I find something full-time. I'll take it from there. Don't you worry, many tales of the job hunt are still to come. Do you know what's exciting, though? That education award I get from VISTA soon! Take that, student loan people!

postscript: I had an interview on Monday. I was equally as sweaty. I'll blame DC's awful humidity. Details to come only if I land that job.
(Image cred, again, to the fabulous Natalie Dee)

Danger: Canvassing

First of all, I would like to extend a hearty Roanoke welcome to Maccy Jr, who is speedy, wonderful and serves as a daily reminder that I now owe my parents money like a 16 year old who bought a prom dress that was way too expensive. It's a good thing he's cute.

Having returned to Roanoke Sunday night, my "real" life has been in full swing for two days now. Upon stepping into work on Monday, I fully realized that, while my work-life had been on pause for five days, no one else's had. The office recently purchased a location for a Thrift Store to benefit both us and our clients, and we've been raising money to make this longtime dream a reality. Before I left, people had thrown around the idea of canvassing to not only spread awareness of our new venture, but also to raise funds. Turns out that the very day I got back was the same day chosen as Canvassing Day Part 1.

I've never canvassed. Also, we've been having some freak thunderstorms in the valley since I got back. (The story of Mr. Merlot driving in hail through like four feet of water is a whole other blog post in and of itself. I was cringing the entire time.) So when I was sent out on my first canvassing adventure with heavy grey clouds looming overhead, I was skeptical. We paired up, so OfficeMate and I (naturally) trudged along the sidewalk-less busy road, going uninhabited house to uninhabited house, leaving bright yellow fliers for the lovely residents to find when they got home. I tell myself that these fliers did not get blown away in the wind, and that each person who laid eyes on them donated $500. A girl can dream.

In the 20ish houses we visited yesterday, we encountered maybe four people. Two were grandparentish, and our initial welcome from those homes were children peering out of windows. Grandparents did not seem remotely interested. We woke up one woman from sleeping, even though it was around 1p. She works the night shift at her job and was not amused nor did she care about nonprofits. To be fair, I wouldn't be halfway through my sleep cycle, either. I don't even know why she answered the door.

And then there's my personal favorite. OfficeMate and I had a pretty good system down; he'd knock, if they answered the door I'd give the schpeel, we'd throw in some "if you have any questions, call us here or visit our website," and keep it fast and simple. One man answered his door while he was on the phone and we awkwardly waited for him to finish his conversation. The longer we waited, the more awkward the situation became. He finally tells us, "Come on in, you guys!"

Have you ever seen that episode of the Sopranos where Dr. Melfi is going down the stairs into the parking garage and you can tell something terrible is about to happen? I lived that moment.

This guy is in a weird basementish type room with chairs covered in laundry, he owns three very overweight football-sized dogs who yap, and has a lone computer in a corner. It's the unibomber's shed, Roanoke-style. OfficeMate has shut the storm door behind us, but left the main door wide open. The man looks at him and says, "Shut the door, son." I thought to myself, "I don't want to die in this awful room with three fat, little dogs." Eventually, this man gets off the phone and we give him a shaky and uncomfortably fast run down. "Thrift store, uhh.... donations. We're opening...downtown... CALL IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS BYE!"

I, personally, booked it out of there, trusting OfficeMate to get out alive on his own. Survival of the fittest, guys. Don't judge.

And that's just the beginning! Once these crazy storms die down, I get to do MORE neighborhoods! Oh joyous day. If you don't hear from me for a while, think of me every time you see an overweight dachshund.

The times, they are a-changing

You better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’

Things at work have taken an interesting turn. After my training in Charlottesville, I began to think about all the things I had done wrong in regards to my grant proposals. This got me thinking about how we needed to brainstorm programs, which derailed my train of thought towards funding opportunities. For a solid grant proposal, one needs a good program. A good program will have some form of matching funds. For dependable matching funds, we needed to raise the bar on our fundraising.It all happened rather suddenly. The next thing I knew, I was bringing this up to my supervisor and now I'm hoping we've developed a plan that will force us to look at our own fund development program and how we can improve upon it. Proposal writing, while pivotal, is only part of the larger system. It may be a little late, but I'm glad the a-ha moment occurred.

In other good news, the government didn't shut down! AmeriCorps wanted us to come in even if they did shut down, and said they'd back pay us. To me, it sounded a lot like slavery. "Do this work! We'll pay you later.... promise..." -shifty eyes- But, hooray for dependable paychecks. Things would've gotten ugly had that gone down. Both for my bank account and, yknow, the country.

After spending last weekend at my alma mater, I am now done traveling for the month. With gas going up the way it is, I can't afford to see anyone anymore. That being said, I do welcome visitors! I know Roanoke may just be too intimidatingly happening for some of you - it's not for the faint of heart.

As my time here is drawing to a close, I need to start thinking about how I'm going to pass on all I've done to the VISTA that takes over my position. It's time to start thinking about finishing up.

Pi(e), Sunshine and Bowling

First off, I would like to wish each and every one of you the happiest of Pi Days. Today, March 14th, is also 3.14. In honor of Pi Day, I convinced OfficeMate that we needed to stop at Kroger so I could procure the necessary ingredients to make chicken pot pie. I have made one other pot pie since moving to this apartment; it was a Kraft recipe and I am not proud of it. Why Kraft feels that cream cheese is an acceptable substitute for a rue is beyond me. This time, I went the legit route with butter and flour. ...and premade pie crusts. Don't judge. I'm still lazy.

Hello, lovely! Thanks for letting me celebrate a punny day!Second of all, Sunday was Daylight Savings - that thing we love in the fall and hate in the Spring. I went into it all optimistic yesterday (the 70 degrees helped) being all, "Hooray for sunshine!" I even went for a run! I know, I know!!

It was this morning when my alarm went off that I automatically subtracted that hour that had been stolen from my life and cursed Eastern Standard Time with all my being.

That being said, I welcome the sunshine. It is 7:20p and the sun is just now setting. I no longer feel the need to eat dinner at 5:45p with the old folks. I can come home and go for a run (ha) in the sunlight as opposed to telling myself, "Let's make this a short run because it's getting dark (and you're tired because it's been a whole five minutes)." With the sunshine comes warmth, green, life, flowers, and allergies. I bought Claritan the other day, but keep forgetting to take it.

Also, I have a ridiculous sneeze.
...It sucks to be my coworkers.

This past Saturday one of our clients, Big Brothers Big Sisters of SWVA, whom I made a shameless plug for here, had their annual Bowl For Kids Sake. Essentially, many teams go, bowl, and raise money for BBBS. All the folks at the office decided to get together and form a team, some even luring their spouses under what I can only assume were false pretenses. Many thanks to my gracious parents who donated $10 to my team. I, not being gifted with much athletic prowess, bowled an impressive 123 my first game (my second game's score isn't important). I also won a door prize, which is impressive if you know my family's lack of skill when it comes to winning prizes (for more information, ask my poor parents about years and years of Catholic Schools Week bingo). So, now I have $10 to a seafood restaurant located about 40 minutes away. Is it tasteless to use it at the bar? Maybe I can take OfficeMate and myself out to a dinner of an appetizer. Fancy!

That's neither here nor there. Here is our lovely team; photocred goes to the BBBS staff who was taking team photos. Except, the man in the red shirt wasn't on our team. He just wanted to be within a decent radius of us in an attempt to absorb some of our awesomeness.For more information on a great organization, check out their national site here. Hooray for shameless nonprofit plugs!

Also, a final aside, I assure you. I am over halfway through my AmeriCorps term. That is surreal. 'Tis all.

Enjoy the sunshine and pie, folks.

Christmastime is here!

Christmas and Visitors
This past weekend, I had the pleasure of seeing two of my closest friends from college who drove many an hour to visit me in Roanoke. Upon their arrival, they expressed their disappointment in the lack of Christmas joy in our apartment. Naturally, an adventure to Lowes was in order. Within an hour, we had our $15 tree shoved expertly into Mr. Merlot, seated four people in him, drove back to the apartment and set it up next to the stockings hung by the radiator with care.
It wasn't as simple as it seemed. For weeks now, I had been bugging OfficeMate about our lack of a Christmas tree. Seeing as I won't be returning home until right before Christmas, I felt I was being denied all those Christmas traditions that college breaks always assured me I'd be a part of. Every time I saw a Christmas tree in someone's window, I'd point it out to OfficeMate. "Hey, hey guess what they have? That's right, a tree. You know what we don't have?" People had suggested trees, others had offered tree stands, but nothing ever seemed to come to fruition and I was becoming progressively more distressed regarding the lack of Christmas tree in our apartment. I was ready to buy the Festivus pole and list my grievances.

So I thank my friends for pushing us to get a tree. It makes me so happy every morning when I wake to the piney fresh scent; it reminds me of all the love that went into its procurement and decoration, and how, without my friends, my life would be much less colorful and festive. Also, my failed scarf that I accidentally knit into a cape has now become our tree skirt, and Britannica was amazing enough to lend us Christmas lights.

It was a solid weekend, all in all. Friday, I was lucky enough to enjoy the adorable Christmas parade, and Saturday and Sunday were full of Christmas time activities with my college friends, along with a trip up to the star. Yes, it was necessary. There was an ice skating adventure that took place in which I wiped out on the ice in the most epic fashion possible, and am still sore two days later as a result.

Winter... and working in an old house.
My office is an old house. Remember? Well, as exciting as it was back in October, it's become a little crazy in this record-setting low temperature winter. There's some solid central heating on the lower level, but it doesn't quite know how to climb the stairs to our second-story office yet. Tragedy strikes in the most frigid of fashions. Our space heater was doing great, but others on the second floor soon also realized it was cold and brought in their own space heaters. It turns out that three space heaters was just a little too much for our old house to handle, and we bust the fuse. Multiple times. We're talking about five times in one day and many runs to the basement to switch the breaker, all while many people yelled, "SAVE YOUR DOCUMENTS! I'M PLUGGING IN MY SPACE HEATER!"

So now I just wear my slipper-sock-boots with two pairs of socks, along with a scarf, heavy winter coat, and on the worst of days, mittens, at my desk. It is getting a little ridiculous and we're working on how to shuffle people around or start working from home on unbearably cold days - like today's 17, which didn't include windchill. I packed heels in my purse for an offsite meeting and realized afterward that they would not have cared had I shown up in my slipper-sock-boots.

Dear Santa,
All I want for Christmas is heat in my office.

....and an immersion blender, but you knew that one already. Safe travels!
Love your favorite AmeriCorps volunteer,
MV

Estrogen

There is so much estrogen in my office. Some days, I don't realize just how many women are there, and other days, days like today, it's painfully obvious. We generally have our estrogen-filled moments, but they're brief. For instance, when we all agree that our accountant is extremely attractive. We take that moment, discuss his attractiveness, and move on. (May our accountant never find this blog)

We were in a staff meeting. OfficeMate had left for a dentist appointment, which, it turns out, was probably a good thing. One moment we're discussing consignment shops to sell crafts for earned income, and the next thing I know we've gone from birthing chairs in thrift stores all the way to personal accounts of labor. I felt like I was in the middle of an Oprah special.

Working with women has its perks. Having worked in male-heavy environments in the past, it is nice to get the female perspective in at every meeting. There are no assumptions that you're incompetent based on your gender and sports talk is replaced by discussions of reality TV and cooking. In the nonprofit world, I've accepted that I will most likely be working among more women than men.

But still, there's something to be said for testosterone. Men are less likely to over analyze situations. To a man, an email is just an email, and whatever is not said is not there because it's not relevant. I'm guilty of over analyzing, of getting caught up in the grapevine, and all those other fun perks that come with being a female. I suppose this just exemplifies the importance of the dichotomy of the sexes.

In other news, I recently have been assigned to another local nonprofit, so I'll be working with more than just the childcare facility. I'm excited - it's an excellent opportunity for growth and experience. We'll see how things go!

Also, thank you to everyone who has given decorating suggestions. Thus far, I have just stolen artwork from my parents' house and hung it up haphazardly around the apartment, with OfficeMate lending his suggestions for what is straight and what is crooked. Next up, who knows?? I'll be sure to keep you all posted.