Round 2

The secret's out- I'm staying in Utah for another year, which means August of 2017 I'll be done with my second VISTA term. (it wasn't really much of a secret)  Some of you already know that I'm staying mostly because I feel my projects will benefit from the continuity of having the same person two years in a row.  It's a logical reason, but I'm sometimes asked (and ask myself) how I'm able to continue to live so far away from everything I knew and loved for the first 24 years of my life.

There are so many things I miss about living in Indiana.  I miss the close friendships I developed in college and sitting in a room full of people that I'm deeply comfortable with.  It is difficult to picture my nieces and nephews getting older without me witnessing their milestones, to know that I am  not as much a part of my younger sisters' lives as I could be, to miss the countless dinners, birthdays, and special moments that are a part of my family's lives.  Those are the kinds of things that should and do make it hard to decide to stay in Utah.

When I chose where to go to college and grad school, remaining close to my loved ones had far greater impact on my decision than anything I wanted to do with my life.  I don't think there was anything right or wrong about that.  It was just what I needed to do at the time I made those decisions.  Wanting to have strong relationships and be involved in my family and friends' lives will always be a good thing, but there are also associated things that are not so good.  I am prone to making decisions based on what I think people want from me, what I think will win their approval, love, or admiration, and based on the fear of "missing out" on fun and exciting things.  I was a rather timid child and young adult (like afraid-to-call-the-dentist-to-make-your-own-appointment timid), and for a long time my actions were also heavily influenced by remaining within the comfort zone of the people I'm attached to.

But there was a point in my life when I realized that I honestly had no idea what drove me or what I wanted, which was clear in my undecided status on my major as a Freshman and my lack of enthusiasm on job options when I graduated grad school. I realized that I couldn't continue to make my life decisions based on other people's lives and thoughts and my attachments to them.  I needed to do something that I wanted to, even if it detached me from everything I knew and loved.  It's honestly difficult to say that without feeling selfish and slightly guilty, like I'm choosing to care more about what I want than about anyone in my life.  That's a feeling I will carry with me however long I live away from my home.  I also have this feeling, though, that the more I learn about myself and what I want, the more I have to give to others.  

My quarter century has taught me so much, each stage bringing new successes and hardships and with those, new lessons.  In undergrad, most importantly, I learned what it felt like to have real relationships with the people in my life.  I learned about hard work- how to push myself beyond the limits of exhaustion for something important to me.  I learned what it felt like to succeed.   In grad school, I learned how to feel comparatively stupid and incompetent.  Through that, I learned not to validate myself based on my successes.  I learned that I will always be driven by people, not generally by money.  I learned how to systematically address a problem in front of me.

And now here I am, and I had no idea what to expect when I moved to a small rural town in the middle of Utah, a state I knew nothing about.  I've learned a lot about what I am naturally good at and and what I've just tried to make myself good at.  In living and working so closely with such few people, I've picked up on a few of my not-so-great habits.  I've learned what it feels like to have your work affect something beyond yourself (and the positives and negatives that go along with that) and done things I thought only other people were capable of.

I think life looks something like a flowchart where each move leads us to something meaningful, as long as we can see the lesson.  Whatever the life stage, the times I have learned the most have always been when I pushed myself out of my comfort zone.  Those are also the times when the things I've learned have the chance to actually impact my life.  Utah is no exception.  I am not here because I'm looking to find that one thing I want to do forever, that will come (or not).  I am just looking to do what I can for others and learn what I can about myself.  We'll see where that takes me.

I will continue to love and miss all of you.

Why You Should Cook With Your Kids

As I've mentioned, every week I teach a cooking class to youth aged anywhere from 6-12.  There have been moments filled with stress, joy, and everything in between.  Before I started, I knew next to nothing about working with elementary-age youth, and even less about teaching them cooking skills.  It's been about 8 months now, and there's a few things I'd like to say to those of you with kids.  Or if you don't have kids- grandchildren, nieces/nephews, babysitees, or future kids. (:

If you have young children (or old children), please have them help you cook.  Give them tasks and projects, let them explore and figure things out.  Let them help you plan meals and choose things at the store.  Cooking is the perfect place to start exposing them to a multitude of concepts and skills- critical thinking, measuring and math, cultural appreciation, creativity, understanding nature and the environment, and so on.  Not to mention getting them used to the idea (girls or boys) that home chores can be shared rather than being the "job" of one person- and they're fun to do together!  (and seriously, imagine how great it will be when you can ask your 10 year old to make that recipe of rolls for you and they don't even need any help)  It definitely requires more time and energy to delegate and teach than it does to do it yourself, but it's so worth the learning moments.  Cooking together gives both of you the chance to explore new foods, learn new techniques, ask questions, and bond.  It's also an opportunity to get them to articulate their dislikes and preferences.

Speaking of dislikes, when I started there were so many things I would never have anticipated that the kids didn't like... onion, garlic, cheese, NUTELLA... I am just so curious as to what's going on in their little mouths and minds when they decide they don't like those delicious things...

You might not think they're capable of much in the kitchen, but I promise, they'll surprise you.  It seems like every week in cooking class I'm like whoa, that actually turned out!  And I'm talking pastry crust... not just mac and cheese.  Resist the urge to take over and just do things for them... let them work through it.  You must accept that your food will definitely look less than perfect.  They will interpret your instructions in ways you could not have anticipated, and it will be messy and ugly and beautiful at the same time.  At the end, no matter what it looks like, they will be proud of what they've created and you will be too.

Stepping on a soap box now: please, please do not just limit them to "kid food".  At what other point in their life are they ever going to need to make a bear shaped mini pizza with olives eyes and a red pepper mouth?  Sometimes it's fun to show them that you can home-make things that usually come in a box, like mac and cheese and brownies, but more often I think this should be a time for helping them try new foods, showing them that vegetables can be incorporated into a delicious dish, and giving them real skills that can be carried into adulthood.

There are hot things and heavy things and there's a chance they'll get hurt.  But I bet they'll learn their way around things pretty quick.  If knives are something that concerns you, there are some child-safe versions you can buy online.  They're not great for some things (don't even attempt that butternut squash), but there are a lot of things they work for.

If you want to take it to the next level, involve them in the cooking and gardening process.  They'll be like: a seed contains a BABY PLANT?!  Mind blown. (when my kids saw a baby succulent, they asked "is it sleeping?!"... so cute).  And it's so true that they'll be more willing to try things that they've made and grown.

And if you feel adventurous enough to make a production of it, invite your friend's kids over and have a group cooking lesson.  If you babysit, this would be a great time-killing and productive activity.

To get you started, here are some kid tested and approved (mostly) recipes.  I'm lucky if I can get the kids out here to eat carrots, so these are all pretty like-able and low on the vegetable side. You'll have to come up with that kale and beet quinoa salad on your own. (hmmm... I just put random words together, but I think the earthiness of those ingredients would be interesting together... maybe a balsamic vinaigrette with some goat cheese on top... yum.)

Lifestyle Limitations

This subject has been on my mind for awhile... sort of simmering in the background I suppose.  It's a difficult thing to put into words.  It is not intended to offend, obviously, (how often do people really intend to offend), but I hope it maybe makes you rethink a few things.

Over Christmas, when I went home, the contrast between the worlds in which I have existed was thrown into sharp relief.  My life in Indiana was surrounded by the middle class, even middle/upper class.  The middle class norm was my norm, and my concept of the number and quality of things we need to make our lives happy and comfortable stemmed from what surrounded me.

The view of life from my seat had a certain pattern: you go to college, get a good job, get married (which includes accumulating a large amount of wedding registry items), buy a house, accumulate more stuff, have children, buy your children all the things they could ever need, send them to college, retire, travel, etc.  It seemed that all around me people were walking this invisible timeline with its invisible milestones and visible stuff.  No one says it's what you have to do, but they're all walking it.  It's the good ol' American dream: the pursuit of the middle/upper class.

That's natural, right?  I mean, when you get married, you gotta get that Kitchen Aid mixer, right? (never baked in your life? so what)  And of course you need to redecorate the room as a nursery when you have a child, right? And for my summer wardrobe this year, I just really need two more pairs of shorts, a flowy tank top because I don't have one of those, and a pair of strappy sandals that would round everything out.  And really, if my TV were just a little bigger it would make my life better.

Actually, I think that our own concepts of what we need in our lives is entirely skewed.

By the way, if it sounds like I'm pointing fingers, I'm totally guilty of this. Definitely more with clothing, food, and smaller items because I've never had enough money to buy furniture or matching appliances.

If you ask most of the 3rd graders in Green River what they want to be when they grow up, they say a cashier. It's all they've ever known.  I would venture to say that 90% of the jobs in this town are part-time.  The 9:00 to 5:00 just doesn't exist, and the middle class hardly does.  And shockingly, people are still happy with their lives. But beyond those who get somewhat stuck here- because of cycles of poverty and lack of opportunities- there are some people who actually choose to live here, accepting this isolated small town and it's lifestyle limitations.

I'm only one example of a Green River resident, and I have it better than most.  My current reality is $10,000 a year (the poverty line for a single person).  There are still a few costs I haven't totally taken over for myself (holding off on that health insurance until 26), but for the most part, $10,000 a year is totally doable for me.  It just means that I have mismatched furniture, a TV from 1980, and a plastic dresser for my clothes. I won't be buying a new car anytime soon, and I visit the food pantry once a month or so. It requires the conscious effort to look at nicer, more aesthetically pleasing, more exciting or even useful things and say yes, that looks amazing.  I would love to have it.  But that doesn't mean I need it.  And, of course, it means I'm not walking the invisible timeline.  I can't accumulate many things, I'm not looking at buying a house anytime in the near future, and since I'm not married, I don't have to worry about children drawing on my meager funds.

Sometimes I feel like people look at me with a little concern, and the doubts about whether it's worth it creep in: But what if you never do anything with your life?  What if you stay in this little small town forever and no one beyond your little community and your family has ever heard or cared about you?  What if you don't ever have a large home, or a wardrobe with all the things you want, or the ability to go out to eat and buy all the high-quality cooking ingredients you want?  What if, though not quite as relevant, you never have a family?  What if, in short, you life doesn't follow the invisible timeline that you've never acknowledged but have always wanted?

You know, I'm becoming more and more OK with that.   

You don't have to embark on a journey to the middle/upper class to have a worthwhile life. 

You don't really need those matching mugs or throw pillows or new furniture or the latest technology.

Those things are pretty and useful and tempting and so seemingly harmless, but they rob us of something very precious- the opportunity to spend our time and our money doing and creating things we love, things of purpose, rather than accumulating things we only marginally care about.  You can be happy choosing to have less and less-than-perfect things.  (Besides, you really won't be satisfied with your new furniture for long.)  I'm not going to go with the "use your money to travel and experience things" because while those things are cool, there are even more important things.  Invest in something you really care about.  Support a friend.  Give it to a local non-profit who's cause you care about (I guarantee they would love your unrestricted funds).  Start a small business.  If it's time you have and not money, find a thing that you really care about, no matter how big or small, and make that thing happen.

Please, just do anything except continue to consume things you don't actually need.   We are made to do so much more.

It's easier for me.  I don't have money.  So my challenge, I suppose, is to those of you who have a choice.

And really, with views like this, what else do I need? 

I Want Things To Be Easy

I've learned this about myself.  It's not that I mind hard work, but I like hard work on problems that are inherently difficult.  When something becomes more difficult than it should be because problems come up, or I can't find the right person to help me, or I have to wait on other people to do things before I can do my things, and so on...  my patience goes to about 0 and I get quite discouraged.  I so wish I could be one of those people that just plugs through things.  But alas, I think those are the same people who are endurance runners, expert violinists, and graduate school enthusiasts.  I am none of those things.

If we want to get philosophical here, there's a point to quit, right?  If you don't, it's called banging your head against a wall.  For example, starting programs in a small town is tricky.  People don't necessarily want new programs because they're... new.  They're change.  They come from these out-of-town folk.  So putting time, effort, and money into those things can feel rather futile.  At the same time, these programs are usually good ideas.  In the nonprofit world, I think you just have to keep going, hope that your work affecting people's lives for the better, and hope you're able to bow out gracefully if it's ever clear that something just isn't working.  

And speaking of making new programs happen... the title of this post should really probably be "I Want Things To Be Easy and I Don't Like Asking For Help".  It's not that I mind talking to people.  I just don't like being dependent on them.  And I don't like putting people I don't know very well in a position where they have to say yes or no to my requests.  I've known this for a long time, deep down, but it's really come out in full force lately because my job suddenly requires me to ask the WHOLE TOWN for help.  I'm only being a little dramatic.  After my weekly meeting with Justin on Monday, I realized that my to-do list included talking to no less than 15 people about things we need.  Tillers, excavating equipment, manure, soil, pump installation, a sign, compost... the list goes on.  PACT, of course, doesn't have those things, it's only me coordinating the garden, and even if I were to figure out how to install a pump, for example, there's no way I should because it would take too much time away from everything else I need to do.   I can't just do what needs to be done, and that's the kind of thing that keeps me awake at night (not really, I go right to sleep at night. but it does make me toss and turn in the morning. That's just not as good of a phrase).  

Of course, if I were home, those things would be easy.  Everyone tells you that you're going to look back on your childhood and be like "man, I didn't realize how great I had it".  I grew up on a farm, and I've always been appreciative of that, but I totally took for granted how great it was to have large machinery, tools, mechanics, laborers, and a dad and brothers with years of experience and wisdom at my back door.  Why, WHY am I starting a garden 1500 miles away from home?

That's rhetorical.  I'm happy to be here.

I'm complaining, but a lot of things have happened because some amazing people have helped me out.  Kathy Ryan (a City Council member who's a mover and shaker) got the city guys to do a rough dig on the garden beds for me.  Richard Seely, a sweet elderly man, is letting us borrow his tiller.  We had a great group of students from the University of New Mexico come and do some functional art pieces at the garden site, including a mushroom water filtration system, a bicycle pump, and a structure made out of reclaimed wood.  Many others have offered contacts or advice (so much advice... so many opinions... usually contradictory... "well now, you have to watch out if you're doing flood irrigation, because the salt will rise up through the soil", or "the only way to get rid of the salt is by flooding the bed and leeching it down"... take your pick! Votes?  Anyone?).

The humble beginnings of our compost pile.  You can see the excavated garden beds in the background.

Structure parts

It's a bicycle pump!

Mushroom filtration "worm" (don't worry, all the locals think it's weird too)

UNM students

And really, if I'm honest (ugh), it's a good learning experience to work through problems and to be dependent on other people.  It's allowed me to form connections that I wouldn't have otherwise, and I think it helps community members engage in our garden space.

But be careful of thinking things like "I wish I had a little more patience", or "I wish I could be one of those people who just sticks with things long term until they happen", or "You know what would be a great idea? A community garden." because soon enough, you'll probably just get the chance to work on those things.

The Weekend

I've occasionally been asked how I spend my weekends out here, and because Green River, Utah is FULL of riveting excitement, I'll tell you a bit about them.

I've been here for almost 7 months now, most of which were fall/winter.  Now, thankfully the winter here wasn't too bad at all, not compared to the polar vortexes experienced in recent Indiana winters, but it did limit the amount of outdoor fun that one can have in the middle of nowhere Utah.  Unless, of course, you're a super hard-core hiker, which I cannot claim to be.

So, winter weekends usually contained things like reading books, watching movies, and hanging out.  I've managed to make it through the entire Harry Potter series.  On the surface, it's so that I can better relate with Hope (lover of all things Harry Potter), but really I'm also glad I had an excuse to finish all of them.  There's also no shortage of time to pick up those personal projects laid by the wayside in college- music, pictures, crocheting, etc.- and make food.

Sometimes the weekend includes going to the BIG CITY (Grand Junction, town of 60,000).  I've come to experience abnormal excitement over things like Target, B-dubs, haircuts, and Taco bell.  In general, I am not a supporter of chain restaurants, but when you can't get a crunch wrap supreme whenever you want you just start to crave that toasty, crunchy, creamy goodness.  I've found that most people in Green River experience this phenomenon to some degree.  For Hope, I think it's Pizza Hut, book stores, and cats.  There's a robust yippy dog population here, but alas, few cats.

Inevitably, when I go anywhere on the weekend with a real grocery store, I feel pressured to go in.  Even if I don't know of anything I need, I'm wracking my brain for anything that might come up in the near future (or like, a month).  After being in Green River for so long, I find the shopping experience to be totally overwhelming.  It's something like the Beverly Hillbillies going to the city for the first time.  I think my heart rate increases as soon as I step in the door at the panic of navigating all the aisles.  Finding what I need requires so much concentration that the other shoppers probably think I'm suffering from severe constipation.  I stand and stare at the options in a shell-shocked trance (seriously, there are so many types of crackers...), and I totally can't handle the number of people I have to maneuver around.  The Melon Vine may not have like half of the things I used to eat- things like tofu, gouda, and sea salt (really)- but man, it's so easy to shop there.

When it's not cold, you can usually find me doing something outdoors at least one day of the weekend.  Middle-of-nowhere Green River may not be conducive for social plans, but it's certainly good for exploration.  Around 70% of Utah is public land... there are literally limitless options of places to hike, climb, bike, camp, etc.  Hence, I've gone to a number of cool places, and I hope to continue doing so.  There's a lot of fun things right around Green River, including Swasey's Beach (a truly lovely beach), the San Rafael Swell, and the Blue Castle butte (pronounced byoot, for all you immature people) area.  Arches and Canyonlands national parks are both less than an hour away.

These adventures are hard to describe without pictures. So, it's a little crazy... prepare yourself... I will now inundate you.  Stay tuned, I'm sure there will be many more this summer.

- Arches & Canyonlands -

Delicate Arch with Brent and Tadd when they came to visit

Cyrus was a visiting artist in Green River for awhile.  He decided to give a lovely little concert at Arches.

I had the pleasure of joining Grant and Anne on a little jeep trip through Canyonlands.

Overlook of the Green River in Canyonlands

Upheaval Dome (Canyonlands)

- Other Moab-area sites - 

Fischer Towers

Loved having my family over Thanksgiving!

Corona Arch

Mill Creek

Potash mineral "ponds"

I thought my eyes were blue, but they're so not in comparison to these beautiful ponds.

Professor Creek

 - Close to Salt Lake City -

Fifth Water Hot Springs

Wintery hike near the Red Butte Garden

Park City

On top of the slopes with Tadd and Brent

 - Green River Area - 

Little Wild Horse Canyon

Goblin Valley State Park

Black Dragon Canyon

Swasey's Beach

Uniquely stable mud castles built by Hope and Bryan

February 29th.  Justin and I are jumping in every month of the year.  

Uneva Mine Canyon

That there is my other roommate, Mollie

Bunker area

The minerals sometimes make crazy colors in the soil

The buttes

One of many petroglyph panels

Then, like in any good small town, there's shooting guns and watching sunsets.