be safe, you say.

It just occurred to me this afternoon that I eat pluots. Not just that I eat them, I suppose, but that I bought them somehow knowing that I would like them, even though I've never bitten into a plum or apricot separately. I thought to myself, "hmm. Pluots. Sounds good." and put them in my Trader Joe's basket next to the usual groceries. But this is such unusual behavior for me, and not just because the word "pluot" sounds non-sensical, like something I would have made out of a mud puddle in 3rd grade, but because I bought something to eat that I had never tried before.

This thought pounced on me as I entered Verite and ordered the usual - a drip coffee and chocolate cupcake, no matter the flavor of icing on top. Fumbling through my clutch, I realized I didn't have any cash and didn't meet the $5.00 credit card minimum. This kind of situation always makes me embarrassed, mainly because I just inconvenienced my barista friend who I usually engage in friendly, but non-stimulating small talk (how are you, local music, nightly plans, etc.) After admitting that I could only pay by card if he would let me, he leaned over with his cute Metro smile and told me not to worry about it. But I am worrying about it, because since WHEN do I get things for free?! I've never been disposed to natural banter, and even my close friends would not describe me as approachable or charming, but apparently having an affable coffee time friend pays off every once in a while! Unfortunately, he filled my diner mug all the way to the top, not leaving any room for my usual splash of half and half. No worries, I thought, as I sipped my coffee black...and LIKED it. Really, what is this (my?) world coming to?!

My post-college life has changed dramatically. Little did I know 5 years ago that I would NOT be in graduate school or at a well-paying job. I definitely didn't think I would be involved in child protective services situations, or would be drinking wine and beer cheaper than I found in college. (Yes, it gets worse than PBR and Five Oaks.) And while I always pictured myself living far away from home, at least for a little bit, I never thought it would be quite like this -- single in a city known for dreary weather, trying to walk as much as possible in said dreary weather, usually in Timberland boots and horribly baggy pants, without any idea of what to do AFTER her year in uniform. As I wonder what I should do next year, my thoughts follow like Esther's in The Bell Jar:

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."

I have to move on before I find myself too emo and self-depreciating. It's only cute and thought-provoking to a point.

We had a service day today that made me realize why my program is needed in a place like Seattle. We gathered about 30 Young Heroes in Seward Park -- a pretty good turnout, considering the heavy rain during most of the morning -- and planted native trees and shrubs as a part of the Green Seattle Initiative ("GSI"). GSI is basically a partnership between the Cascade Land Conservancy, Seattle Parks + Rec, and the City to restore 2500 acres of forest to Seattle by 2030. Most of the actual work will be done by volunteers like the Heroes we brought out. Like most middle school groups, the Heroes are incredibly diverse in terms of interests, maturity, etc. While we have to stop some kids from throwing dirt in each other's faces, we have to also provide the opportunity for some kids to talk about issues that they otherwise may not feel comfortable discussing. For instance, on Halloween night there was a shooting near Garfield High School -- a little less than a mile and a half from my house -- in which a 15 year old died and another was critically injured. Youth violence is climbing in the city, and lots of residents are attributing it to gangs beginning to permeate from California up to here. However, the boys that we talked with while planting western red cedars and the like insist that the boy that was killed, "wasn't like that." Finnigan (name clearly changed) carefully, but with an infuriated tone, cited that Quincy stood up for him in the cafeteria at middle school and that he was a good kid. All these people attributing him to the gangs just seemed to be an impossibility for him. All this just came out with no other reasoning, to me, than the simple fact that we were there for him. Granted, there are lots of youth programs in the United States, but few that are so focused on both the well-being of the community and empowering youth within it.

On a personal note, it seems that November has become the month of injuries for me. The day after Halloween, I was invited by a few friends out to a corn maze in Snoqualmie, just a 45 minute drive north of Seattle. The rolling hills and farmlands, as well as the occasional strip mall, reminded me so much of Kentucky. Once we found the corn maze, it didn't take long for mischief to occur. Jake began to snipe the rest of us by hiding in the stalks and hurling ears of corn in our general direction, which mainly ended up landing in puddles and splashing mud on our rolled-up jeans. We all took part in the fun, despite the immaturit of it all. It reminded me of Ross and I's fights with super soakers back in the woods of Franklin, Tennessee. This was nostalgic and all up until Tai came around the corner and pitched an ear right at my face, causing immediate tears, laughter at the ridiculousness being slapped with an ear of corn, and a black eye that is still evident today. Here is what I looked like directly after the assault by corn:

This morning I was attacked by something I expected even less than an ear of corn in my face. I began my day by walking to our PT (physical training) site for the day near our office. After chatting with Kerry and others, I felt a discomfort that made me think that I just really had to pee. After village circle at 8:15, I began to search for a bathroom. After team circle at 8:30, I was in some serious abdominal pain. During PT, I realized it probably wasn't my bladder, and that any kind of physical movement didn't affect the strength of the pain in my lower right side. It was appendicitis -- I was convinced. By 8:45 I was rushing to the nearest bathroom and soon realized that, just as I thought, it wasn't my bladder. Joe tried to convince me to take some Tylenol to make it feel better, but we weren't talking a headache or sore calf muscles here -- we were talking a sharp, stabbing sensation. In my torso. I knew we had to take the company van to the emergency room. By 9:00, the pain made me nauseous and pretty irritable towards the admitting nurse in the ER. After the RNs poked around my left arm for a suitable vein for an IV, they gave up and had to search for one in my right. All this time, I'm clarifying my mom's phone number for the admitting nurse while she tries to give me back my insurance card while I'm on the freakin' gurney in the ridiculous "hello, here's my entire backside, enjoy the view!" hospital gown and yell, "what am I supposed to do with this right now?!" Timidly, she put the card back in my uniform jacket pocket and left the room. Then, I vomited into a handy mass-manufactured-for-hospitals barf bag. I continue to squirm and moan, cursing my vestige of an organ until 10:00, when the room was emptied, until 10:15, when I pushed the call button (even though I told myself that I was just being a wimp) and yelled, "I need the pain meds!" By 10:40 I had intravenous anti-nausea medication and some kind of pain meds that made my entire body feel numb while a burning tingle began in my hands. Soon I was texting my friends, wanting to document the experience fully, and called my Mom to tell her about the wooziness of my medication. In the background, I remember hearing Joe's laughter. Soon enough, I was out. Periodically, a doctor would come in a grab me for a CT scan and a pelvic ultrasound (which, if you really want to know the gritty details of, you should investigate on Wikipedia), while I threw up from the motion sickness of being transported from room to room...on a gurney. People also kept asking if I was pregnant of all things. I wondered if this was Jeffrey, my infamous twin that grew on thyroid last December and had to be drained. By the time 3:45 rolled around, the doctors eliminated appendicitis and kidney stones and figured out I had a "large, complex ovarian cyst" on my right ovary about 6 centimeters in diameter -- which is apparently pretty fucking big. My roommate Cortney attributed the pain to, "a testicle being squished. hard." My other roommate, Jaime, had one rupture on her when she was 24, and said that it literally is the worst pain any woman can ever feel. Right now, I'm just grateful it didn't rupture and that my oxycodone/acetaminophen mix is working just fine.

Luckily, I have tomorrow off (woo Veterans!) so that I don't have to take yet another day off of work. The downside is that I don't get to go hiking as planned. I'll never say no to mint tea and chocolatey pumpkin bread, a heating pad, and all the movies and TV shows I can watch!