Words you might never see in a dictionary again...

As I was searching for some words for this week's "Wordy Wednesday", came across an article that was talking about the fact that there are some words that researchers have found are so rarely used and obsolete that they are being considered for removal from the dictionary.  Now, that seemed kind of sad to me...the idea of words being obsolete (although I am sure it happens all the time).  So, since I am trying to catch up a little bit from weeks past before I revised my list to include a new word a week, I thought I would give props to the words that are soon going to be dropped from the dictionary.  Who knows?  Maybe one of use will bring one of the words back?  Ok...probably not, but still....

brabble: to argue stubbornly about trifles

younker: a young man or lad

bever: a light repast between meals (I have had my fair share of bevers in my time...)

supererogate: to do more than duty requires (It is kind of fun to say...)

deliciate: to delight one's self; to indulge in feasting; to revel. 

I guess out of the five of these, I can see myself using "brabble" more than any of them.  Is that because I brabble myself? Or is it because I am annoyed by people that brabble? 

Anyway, there is this week's word of the week along with 4 more of the 28 that I need to make up.  Which makes 24 more to make up.....

Crater Lake

We have lived in Oregon for almost 11 years but until recently had never been to Crater Lake.  It is a good drive south of us and whenever we would go somewhere for the weekend I always wanted to go to the beach.  Joe has wanted to see Crater Lake for a long time, so when Father's Day rolled around I decided that a trip to see Crater Lake was going to be his gift.

The problem with going Father's Day weekend, was that I really wanted to make it a long weekend since we were going to have to do some driving.  My schedule is perfect for long weekends, but Joe had just started his new job and didn't have any time he could take off.  So, last June, I randomly picked a weekend in September that made reservations for a house rental in Sunriver.

We had never been to Sunriver either but I am so glad I just booked the trip.  The area was absolutely beautiful and it reminded me a lot of Western Montana.  We stayed in a great house and had access to a ton of fun.  We rented bikes one morning, including a trailer for Taelin to ride in. (She insisted Joe "go faster and faster".)  There was a great outdoor pool and an afternoon full of sunshine and vitamin D.  One day, while Taelin and Joe napped, I just went out and shopped at all the little stores, which was also great fun.

But, the point of it all (besides being together, which I guess is really the whole point...) was our trip to see Crater Lake.  We reserved a whole day for driving down and doing whatever it was that we would want to do.  I packed up the cooler with the typical picnic stuff and off we drove.  Once we got a little closer, we told Taelin we were driving up a volcano and were going to see a big blue lake. Well, she ran with the whole "voltano" thing and made up a lovely little song that we were singing the rest of the day.  She also kept telling us that she could feel it shake and that is was going to go BOOM like the "voltanos" in Dora.  Those "voltanos" however erupt colorful balls and had a hard time convincing Taelin that we really didn't want the volcano to go BOOM.

We made a couple of stops as we drove part way around it.  We didn't do any real kind of hiking because we have a two year old and Joe's back/leg is currently giving him quite a bit of trouble.  We did take some time to look around though and it was honestly breathtaking.  It was hard to really get the scope of how big the lake really was.  At one point, we stopped to look and could see across to where we had just been.  Everything looked so small over there...but when we had just been over there, everything seemed huge.  It was just immense.

We didn't stay for very long (maybe an hour), but we stopped for a picnic on our way back and Taelin and Joe did manage to find some snow to play in.  We had a wonderful, wonderful mini-vacation and will definitely return to the area with our kayaks next summer. (Just for clarification, we won't kayak in Crater Lake, but there were lots of other lakes close by that would be perfect!)

It is really too bad that it has taken us this long to get down there, but I am so glad we finally did.  I am once again finding myself so ever grateful for this list, which is helping me do the thing that we have "always" wanted to do.

"The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start." -John Bingham

Today, in between shucking more than 100 ears of corn, I decided to go for a run.  You know, like a put-on-tennis-shoes-and-go-faster-than-walking kind of a run.  Anyone that really knows me knows that never have I uttered the words, "I'm going to go for a run." That being said, those exact words came out of my mouth on purpose.

I have been thinking about starting running for awhile.  I have a few friends that run and they can't get enough of it.  I have looked into the Couch to 5K program a couple of times online..even going as far as to download an app for my phone, but have never started.  Finally, the other day I just decided that this weekend was going to be the weekend.

I decided I probably needed some new shoes since the last pair I got were over 2 years old.  While I was at it, I asked a friend for a good recommendation for sports bras to help support the girls.  I braved the local running store downtown and walked away a couple of hundred dollars poorer, but with a refreshing feeling that I might just be able to do it.  

And I did.  The Couch to 5K program is set out to help a person ease into it.  Today was week one, day one and I had a 5 minute walking warm up, with then 8 alternating 60 second run and 90 minute walk.  I stretched really well before I went outside with my wicking shirt and pants, and listening closely to Delores (the name of the lady that lives in my phone).  I ran when I was supposed to run and walked when I was supposed to walk. I didn't really feel like I was out of breath at any point nor did I want to quit.  How very strange.

We will see what the next few days brings, but I am excited at the possibilities of finding a new way to exercise. I am keeping hopeful and am lucky that I have Joe to not only encourage me to run, but is willing to juggle schedules to make it happen.  I am still in a bit of disbelief..I ran today.  On purpose.  And nothing was chasing me.

consternation: a sudden, alarming amazement or dread that results in utter confusion

When I was around 6 or 7 my parents enrolled me in ballet.  I didn't really understand at the time, but the primary reason I was there was that my doctors thought it would help me.  I was severely pigeon toed.  So pigeon toed, that at one point I had to wear this contraption at night that was basically a pair of shoes bolted on a board that forced my feet to turn out.  They thought ballet would help with my problem and I was totally on board.  I mean, really, what little girl doesn't want to be a ballerina at some point?

I spent several years dancing and really loved every minute of it.  I took it very seriously and was not patient with the other girls that didn't.  I loved my ballet shoes, my leotard, and the music.  I loved my teachers and I wanted to be exactly like them down to the way I held my fingers. I practiced every day while looking in the mirror trying to perfect each of the routines.

Then there were the recitals....oh how I loved the recitals.  In addition to everything else I loved about ballet, recitals brought it to a whole other level....there were costumes.  There were puffy pink tutus and silver sequined leotards.  There were lights and an audience and although I was shy most other times, I loved getting nervous and then shining on stage.  The applause...oh the applause.  It was pure joy.

At the pinnacle of my ballet career, my ballet class had a routine to the song Music Box Dancer.  We were the oldest girls that our teacher taught and as a 4th grader with several years of ballet under my tutu, we were clearly the models that all the younger girls wanted to be like.  We were the last routine of the night, except for the big finale of all the girls, and I took the whole thing very seriously.  Our costumes looked exactly like the ones that you see in music boxes; long pink tutu's with white tights underneath with a simple white leotard on top.

Even today, I remember the dance. For weeks leading up to the recital, I practiced and practiced.  My teacher had put me in the front, clearly because I had so perfectly memorized the moves from beginning to end.  I was the back-up in case someone forgot what they were supposed to do.  I was very important.

I remember stretching out my arms with my fingers in just the right position and jumping and landing gracefully at the just the right moment.  I tilted my head ever so slightly so my hair just barely fell in front of my face as I turned on my tip-toes.  I had never felt so beautiful as I did that night.  The audience clapped wildly for us when we were finished and I was sure that had we an encore prepared, they would have surely loved it too.

Around this time was when the first video recorders had come out and while my parents didn't own one themselves, some other parent did.  About two weeks after the recital, I came home from school with a copy of our performance which I watched again and again. I relived that moment for weeks and it was just as great every time.

The next year we moved and I had to quit ballet.  It was heartbreaking because I was only one year away from being able to start using toe shoes...the ultimate ballerina shoe.  Eventually, the regular watching of the video tape ceased but of course was kept for memories sake.

Fast forward about 12 years.  I was in college and home for the weekend.  Joe, who was just a boyfriend at this point, had come home with me.  My task for the weekend was to go through the stuff I hadn't taken to college to determine if I really wanted my mom and dad to continue to store it.  I came across my sticker book, pencil collection, and other assorted things that for some reason I felt I needed to keep.  Towards the middle of the sorting, my hands landed on the video tape.  I stopped doing anything else and started to run downstairs, calling after Joe to follow me.

As I waited quite impatiently for the VHS player to fast forward to the Music Box Dancer performance, I explained to Joe what he was about to see.  I called to my mom and dad to join us and settled myself into a front and center position that was surely too close for adequate eye safety.  I finally found the right spot and as soon as I heard the music begin to play, the exact feeling I had that day came rushing back and I held my breath.

What happened next gave cause for great consternation.

At the beginning of the routine there was a short moment where we were all standing in position, while the music began to play.  Then two at a time, we leapt across the stage, arms stretched, landing gracefully before beginning the next jump.  At least that is what I remembered.

What I saw instead was an awkward, skinny little girl clunking her way across the stage.  Instead of graceful jumps, big knobby knees poked unevenly out to the side and wobbled after the impact of landing.  A face, sort of twisted with concentration and determination, was framed with stringy dishwater blond hair.  Arms seemed mostly forgotten, looking more like someone trying not to drown.  I was in front, not because I was good, but because I was the shortest one in the group, by quite a bit, and not one of the other girls watched me for a second to remind them what to do.

I turned to look at Joe who tried a little bit to keep from laughing, but didn't last long.  I can't blame him at all.  I looked funny...really funny.  The girl on the t.v. wasn't at all the girl that I remembered.  I don't remember what I said, but my mom just kind of smiled and my dad threw up in hands like he does and walked away.

That night when I was trying to fall asleep, I tried to understand how in the world my version of the moment could be so different that the reality.  How did I not see my knobby knees?  How could I think that others would want to be like me?  How did I think that was beautiful?  What was I thinking?

Today, the video tape sits on a shelf with the other few home VHS tapes we have.  We don't even have a VCR anymore, but we still have the tape.  I don't think I will ever be able to get rid of it.  I wonder now, almost 10 years since really seeing it for the first time, whether or not I am glad I watched it?  It definitely shattered my thinking of the whole event and I have been teased more than I think is fair....I was only 10 for goodness sake.

But then a part of me feels grateful for watching it.  While I definitely was the further thing from a beautiful ballerina. there wasn't a person in my life at the time that let me believe anything but that; not my parents, my ballet teacher, or the other girls in my class. They had to have seen the stringy hair and knobby knees...but they also saw how much I loved it and how much I believed in myself.  What an incredible gift they provided me at a time when life just starts to get really weird.

Buh-bye student loan....

I graduated with my BA in Education in 1999.  While I was very fortunate to have an awesome music scholarship for my first year of college and a kick-ass job as a Resident Assistant during my last three years, it was not in the cards for me to leave school debt-free.  (In the interest of full disclosure, there was a year after I gave up my music scholarship but before I became an RA that pretty much helped me understand the definition of poor, college student.)

Six months after I graduated, I started paying back my student loan.  When I looked at the amount I owed (which I now realize was NOTHING compared to what others had) and the payment schedule they had laid out, it seemed daunting to think about the fact that they wanted me to pay for 10 years.  I dutifully sent my check out each month, some months with even a few extra dollars.

Then in 2001, I started graduate school.  At the time, Joe was working at Western Oregon University and because we were married, I was able to get the discounted rate of $50 a credit plus fees.  I knew I didn't want to take on more debt so I deferred my student loan (which was completely on the up and up since I was enrolled in school) and paid for grad school as I went.

I didn't go to school full time because I was teaching full-time so it took me 4 years to finish my Master's degree.  Then, six months after that was finished, I received a new coupon book with my new payment schedule.  (Why they call it a "coupon" book I will never understand!)  I once again started to diligently pay each month.  Every month seemed like such a time drop in the bucket, but I just kept going.

Then we started paying things off....credit cards....Joe's car....my car....our 2nd mortage that we took out right after our 1st mortgage to pay back the person that loaned us our down payment (I am pretty sure that is illegal now)..Joe's student loan....  Mine was next in line.  This past January, I still had a little under $4,000 left to pay....and I decided I was determined to pay it off by the end of 2011.

I started paying anything I could extra towards it.  If I worked an extra day and got paid...it went to my loan.  If I worked for Willamette...it went to my loan.  Gift money...went to my loan.  Extra money at the end of the month...went to my loan.  I think you get the picture.

And this month, I am proud to say that my student loan is completely paid off.  I could have been paying on that for another 3 years....but I am done.  How awesome it that?

"...and when you exhale, release the thoughts and feelings that do not serve you..." ~My yoga instructor

Hi.  My name is Jodie and I can be my own worst enemy.

They (who ever "they" are) say that the first step in overcoming a problem, is admitting you have one.  The above statement, I guess, is my admission.  

I think we all have that little voice in our head.  I seem to have several.  One is really sarcastic...I mean really sarcastic.  That particular voice likes to spend more time than reasonable on stating the obvious, mostly on things around me that I find annoying.  I kind of like that voice, but would be embarrassed if all of the sudden someone walked by me with a super-power that made it so everyone else could hear it.  I suppose that means I should probably work on quieting that voice. (That voice just spoke up...and I am not telling you what it said.)  

Another voice, one I like much less than the previous one, sounds an awful lot like my mother (a coincidence I am sure).  And unlike the previous voice that focuses it's attention on the outside, this voice focuses much more on me.  In general, it is the voice that tells me I am not good enough, I am not smart enough and people don't like me. Who knew I had Stuart Smalley's biggest naysayer living in my head? I am sure we all have a voice like this inside of ourselves to varying degrees.

The last voice, is a fairly recent addition to the jumbled mess.  At this point, I can only describe it best as a whisper.  It's main job seems to mainly be to tell the previous voices to kindly shut up.  I like this voice and would like it to get louder.  I have been trying to encourage this voice more but it wasn't until I was sitting in yoga one Saturday morning that it was clearly defined for me.

We were working on breathing techniques and meditation.  When I first started taking yoga, I was mostly looking for an exercise that I wouldn't hate and didn't realize that there were things, like breathing techniques and meditation, that would help with other parts of my well-being.  Anyway, we were sitting there and the instructor said something that for some reason switched something in my brain.  She said, "...and when you exhale, release the thoughts and feelings that do not serve you..."

Brilliant.

I know that I have heard and read more than my fair share of Oprah-like advice about letting go of things and quieting the voices in my head.  I know that all that negative self-talk about weight loss, or work, or friendships, or...or....or....or needs to stop.  I know that too many times I have sabotaged myself with my own voices.  But for some reason, on that day, in that moment there was some clarity for me.

Since that day, the whispered voice is gaining some ground.  And instead of filling my brain with more words, all I hear is "Breath. Serve yourself."  It is enough to stop the other voices and reframe my thinking.  There have been little reminders since then that have shown me how important it is to do this. They truthfully have probably always been there, I am just more likely to notice them now.

They say that old habits die hard. The upside?  Old habits can die.  I would imagine the same could be said for old voices.

wheedle: to persuade or try to persuade by coaxing words, flattery, etc.

Let me introduce....Wordy Wednesdays!    One of the recent changes to my list included learning one new word a week.  My hope is that I can increase my own vocabulary and share some funny stories about my life, past or present, along the way.  I can't guarantee that every week's word will accompany a story, not because I don't have one but because I might not have it ready and it isn't necessarily part of the goal.  I really just want a chance to be able to write down the stories that float in and out of my brain and this would give me an avenue to do that. 

I also may eventually have to change my Wednesday to another day once my class starts in November but for now, I like how "Wordy Wednesday" sounds.  Because I am starting this whole thing almost 200 days into my 1001 days, I will at some point have to go back and make up for weeks gone by or I won't feel like I can really check it off at the end.

Anyway,  I am not doing a very good job of wheedling you into following my "Wordy Wednesday" with all my disorganization and lack of forethought, but I wanted to at least start thinking about how I would make this happen and I had to do something this week.  Hopefully my promise for a really good story next week will wheedle your wonderful, lovely selves to Wordy Wednesday a week from today.