Rob the Firefighter

Well the impossible has happened. Little Robbie James is officially a trained Wildland Firefighter. I know I know, pretty hard to believe and if someone had told me this would happen a year ago I wouldn’t have believed it. But after a week of really boring classes where I sat and watched videos depicting every worse possible situation of a fire and after passing the pack test where you have to walk 3 miles in under 45 minutes while carrying a forty pound pack. Not to brag but I did it in 43 minutes (please save your applause for later). It been pretty awesome and I could totally dig having a job where all I do is walk around with a drip torch lighting things on fire all day. My inner pyro has definitely been unleashed. Oh and by the way, my team is already talking about releasing a calendar because isn’t that what all the real firefighters do? I’m already claiming November and I’m envisioning lots of flames, sweat, mesh tank top, and Dalmatian puppies all over me. Its gonna real classy.

The other day we were doing a prescribed burn on about 100 acres of prairie and my teammate Stephon and I got quite the rush of adrenaline from this whole fire thing. We had just lit a huge fire line across a field when our crew boss drove up and was signaling at us to get in the ranger to move farther down the line. I of course being the sensible of the two told Stephon that we should walk down further where the fire hadn’t touched in order to get to the ranger. He of course was like well let’s just jump over it. Seeing as my nickname on the team has become old man Sesser I wasn’t about to let this young whipper snapper show me up so we both started running towards the fire line and once our feet left the ground to jump over it I swear the flames grew twice in size which pushed a rush of adrenaline through my body like I’ve never experienced. Within seconds my body was drenched in sweat from the heat. In the moment I seriously felt like I was in the Gladiator movie when Russell Crowe is fighting in the battle and he yells “UNLEASH HELL!” Then out the dark smoke and flames you see this huge wolf fly out of it and attack. Basically that’s how it probably would have looked if you had been standing there…minus the wolf…and insert me and Stephon with a touch of slow motion for dramatic effect. All I’m sayin is that it was pretty “bad a”. And my asthma didn’t flare up due to all the smoke inhalation, which was also a big plus.

Now speaking of me, Stephon, wild dogs, adrenaline rush, feeling like your life is a movie, etc….Last weekend we thought it would be a great thing to go spend some time volunteering at the local Humane Society and it was all going just peachy until Stephon decided two put the 3 yr. old St. Bernard in the play area. I don’t really know how but Stephon was playing with the dog in the pen but “Jesse” was apparently feeling a little claustrophobic. So out of nowhere the dog bolts for the gate where he jumps up and body slams it thus opening the gate. Everything after that seriously could have been the new script for the seventh sequel to Beethoven. So the dog just takes off and I was standing close by with my dog who was some sort of large terrier who coincidentally has a knack for squeezing it head out of a collar and running after large St. Bernards. So then we had two dogs on the loose and I’m running like crazy seeing as we’re right next to a busy road and I’m screaming “JESSE! JESSE! STOP! BAD DOG! BAD DOG!” I was so flustered I couldn’t even remember the other dogs name so I had to refer to him as HEY YOU! STOP! Those dogs really could have cared less as Stephon and I chased them for probably a good quarter mile before they finally stopped. And seeing as I probably ran the fastest quarter mile of my life while wearing a parka I was about two steps away from a collapsed lung. So I go up to Jesse and grab him by the collar and surprisingly he’s really happy to see me and figures I would love a good lick. So he gives me those innocent puppy dog eyes and proceeds to lick the entire length of my arm and covers it all in nasty white foamy drool that had all been built up from the run. And go figure my parka was dry clean only. And you have no idea how hard it is to find a good dry clean in rural Iowa.

Double Tall White Mocha?

Today I had a major reality check by one of the bazillion differences between Seattle and Iowa. I was craving some Starbucks and the only option within a hundred miles was the one located inside the entrance of a Target. I know. Tragic. So going into it I should have known there would be lingo lost in translation. I mean its not like I’m a total high-maintenance customer that’s asking for a Venti, 3 pump, non fat, vanilla latte with 3 Splenda, stirred, at 180 degrees with light whip but I do have my whole drink shpeel memorized and I can say it pretty darn fast on a good day. Usually it’s a little more complicated but I decided to leave out the 2 pump, non fat, extra hot part because I’ve learned that once you leave Seattle you have to repeat orders like these four or five times before they have it all written down on the cup. So all I asked for was double tall white mocha and he looked at me like I was speakin Mandarin. So after 4 seconds of extremely awkward and confused eye contact, the barista dude looks at his manager who can tell he has no idea what I’m talking about and slowly tells him “well you press the button that says white mocha and then press the add a shot button”. During all this I’m holding back the urge to grab him buy his collared black poplin shirt and scream “Who the hell do you think you are calling yourself a Starbucks Barista! Take off that green apron you imposter and get a job at McCafe!!”
But I regained my composer and realized we’ve all been there. I too was nothing but a newbie barista at Starbucks which I secretly love to tell other Sbucks baristas because once you tell them you worked at the mother-ship that is Seattle they instantly have a much higher respect for you which I won’t lie I totally eat up. Unfortunately i'm pretty sure the barista wasn't new and that he had in fact been working there a while. If Howard Schultz were dead he would have rolled over in his grave.

Mardi Gras

Well my time in the South has ended and I’ve found myself back in rural Iowa in a place called Wapello. Its pretty tiny. As in 2000 people live here and none of my friends from Iowa have even heard of it and its not exactly a diamond in the rough but its kinda nice to be back to a slow pace of life after spending six weeks in the south during Mardi Gras. Now don’t get me wrong, it was great being down there for all the hubbub, excitement, parades, unending king cakes, and just getting to experience for myself what a huge part of the culture it is down there.

One of the last weekends in Alabama a group of 12 of us did a 24 hour trip to New Orleans for the big Mardi Gras weekend which at the time seemed like a great idea but I would never do it again. My only responsibility for the trip was to rent two mini vans for our group which I thought wouldn’t be a big deal except the day that we were supposed to leave none of the mini vans were returned by their drivers so they had to give us three SUV’s which cost a little more but I’m not gonna lie was kinda sweet because I felt like Obama driving with his entourage. We left right after work and drove the two hours to New Orleans and first stopped at our sweet apartment room we rented where we slept three to a bed and everyone else got the floor. I was lucky enough to grab a middle spot on the bed and I don’t know how I slept that night because half of my lower body was hanging over the bed. Eventually in the middle of the night I got up and grabbed a chair for my feet to rest on which was a big help. Within minutes of us getting to the apartment the guy who was renting the other room in the apartment who had obviously been smoking pot all day came over and was super friendly and wanted to hang out with us and then invited himself to come down to Bourbon St with us which we ultimately didn’t mind because he paid for all of our trolley tickets. Again, probably because he was high but hey I’m not picky. Unfortunately the trolley we were taking dropped us off like two miles away from Bourbon so after a long walk and a bathroom break in a random hotel lobby, whose toilet hadn’t been flushed during the past 20 uses, we finally made it to Bourbon and it was a whole lot of crazy like I’ve never seen before. It was literally a half-mile street with wall to wall people. Within seconds of going into the crowd we all got separated and then of course all of the cell services were crashing because of all the users which was super inconvenient/thrilling/terrifying because I was trying find my friend Adam who was only two blocks away. And normally one wouldn’t think two blocks to be a great distance but it literally took us an hour to find each other and of course by that time we both had to pee and I hardly had any voice left after spending an hour shouting into the phone to tell him which street corner I was on or what the florescent sign I was standing under.

The next morning my one and only goal was to go to the French quarter and grab and beignet at Café du Monde’s but after driving around for an hour looking for a parking spot I gave up because we had to return the cars before we got charged an extra days fee but this just gives me a reason to return someday.

On Fat Tuesday a bunch of us went to the last Mardi Gras parade in downtown Mobile even though I was less than enthusiastic about going considering I’d already gone to several and in my opinion you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all. I mean it was pretty fun the first time grabbing as many beads as you could and I even caught a teddy bear that had kisses all over it which I loved at first until I found out a majority of the stuffed animals came from Goodwill so I became a little concerned about where that thing had been. But anyways the parades are pretty dangerous so even if you don’t want to catch anything you still have to hold your hands up to shield your face in case you get beamed by a stray handful of beads. Another thing they love to throw is moon pies which is a nasty desert that’s basically 300 calories that I’d rather consume elsewhere. Anyways they’ll usually just throw one or two at a time from the float but every once in a while you’ll get some fat lazy guy on top of the float who doesn’t have the decency to open the box to throw one so he’ll chuck the whole box of moon pies from the top of a possibly 200 ft float. You wouldn’t believe the momentum those things can gain and they can do a lot of damage. I feel sorry for the innocent bystanders who had to hear me shriek like a 12 year old girl and cover my eyes the first time I saw one of those boxes coming my way.

Another alarming thing is that Mardi Gras tends to draw out a lot of gang activity which I learned because as some of my teammates were waiting for the final parade to pass by and end the Mardi Gras celebration someone was shot in a McDonalds right by where my group was watching the parade!!! Thank my lucky stars I decided to leave early otherwise I’m sure I would have been in line during the attack patiently waiting to pick up my small fry with a hot fudge sundae which I’ve recently become OBSESSED with as I’m slowly working away at using up my 50 dollars worth of gift cards from mama.

Long story short. I’m loving me Iowa these days because my life no longer feels threatened. Of course that’s only temporary as well because I would not want to be here during hunting season with a bunch of Dick Cheney’s running around if you know what I mean…

P.S. Dear Jess Miller. Thanks for showing me how to attach a picture in my post. You inspire me.

BAMA!

Here I am!

Howdy ya’ll. I’m getting to spend my first winter in the deep south and I’m thinking this needs to become a yearly tradition. Who knew there were places in the world where you could get a tan in January?! The weather down here has been pretty amazing. Highs in the 70’s and I’ve got quite the farmers tan going on. I’m really starting to wish AmeriCorps would issue me some a work appropriate tank tops cuz these puppies need to breathe. The only draw back to being here in Mobile, Alabama is that rumor has it that this is the wettest city in the 48 contiguous states. I would tend to agree because we had two days of torrential downpours like I’ve never seen in my life as opposed to Seattle who likes to slowly drizzle for the whole month of January. Let me tell ya I don’t miss that.

So for my project down here my team has been working with Habitat for Humanity on new construction projects and so far it has been so much fun…well…except for yesterday when I literally shoveled a pile of dirt, moved it several feet, spread it out with a rake, and then repeated the process for approximately 6 hours. Talk about stimulating. My site supervisors are hilarious and luckily have enough patience to deal with someone like me who hadn’t a clue on how to build a house. Of course all my questions usually result with an eye roll or a “are you serious?” remark, but I know they do it out of love. So far the main things I’ve worked on was putting up siding, soffit, and shingles and of course nailing everything in sight. And not to brag or anything but I push a mean skill saw these days.

The whole culture of the south is very fascinating to me and very different from Washington. For one thing I think it’s mandatory for ever food chain to carry fried chicken and the biggest fashion statement here are guys who buy enormous fishing hooks and hook them around the brim of their hat. I mean I guess it looks cool and you never know when you might feel the spontaneous urge to fish but it seems a little dangerous and I’m curious as to how many of these cool kids have lost an eye all for the sake of fashion. Another big thing is chewing tobacco, especially among the Habitat site supervisors. They are constantly spitting everywhere and thank God for hard hats because you never know when a stray spit may strike from someone laying shingles. Another big thing down here are churches. Last week I went to the largest church I’ve ever been too and their parking lot equally rivaled that of a Wal-Mart. It’s insane. Churches down here are like Starbucks in Seattle. The amount and close proximity of them seems a little ridiculous at times and I had no idea how many denominations there were which has made picking a church on Sundays quite the ordeal. Last week we found a church online that sounded good and once we arrived there on Sunday morning we saw that it was held in part of an old strip mall. This might be my favorite things about the south and possibly their most ingenious idea which is put every human essential into a strip mall and call it good. I’ve literally driven down the road and seen a strip mall with a church, a bar, tanning salon, and dollar general all in a row. Talk about convenience!

The living situation on this trip has been interesting to say the least. There’s 21 of us living in a trailer who’s previous owner must have found a blind carpenter to work for cheap because it has the worst add-on I’ve ever seen. Every room has as many beds crammed into it as possible and the only place I’ve ever been able to get Wi-Fi is on top of washing machine. We have only one couch so we eat all our meals on the floor. I’ve never felt so claustrophobic in my life. My bedroom is literally the size of my room in Ashton Hall and there are 6 of us guys living in it. One of the guys snores but thankfully I have my Yosemite Falls noise machine to put me to sleep. The neighborhood we live in is definitely lower income but pretty decent although I like to be dramatic and tell people we live in the ghetto. Last weekend I volunteered at the Convoy of Hope which was an community event where people could come get food, groceries, shoes, etc…Anyways, I was working in food services and had just bagged my 600th hot dog when a girl I’d been chatting with called me a Yankee after I told her I was from Washington State. I’m pretty sure Washington wasn’t even in existence let alone part of the union during the war and I could have sworn that the war ended in Gone with the Wind but she told me she gets along well with us Northern folk so I guess there were no hurt feeling. Then I was asking her where she lived and she was saying how it was pretty nice area and I was like “oh yeah well I live on Westchester Road in the ghetto.” Then she turned to me and was like “I live a block away from there. Are you saying I live in the GHETTO??!!!” It got awkward real fast and she was obviously offended but it was too late for damage control because out of nowhere an old man next to her chimed in and said that his church was on that street. Long story short I didn’t make any new Facebook friends that day.

One of the things that I think has surprised me the most about the south is how everyone apparently lives in a trailer. I mean I knew that the south had it’s money issues but when every right turn is a trailer park called Craig’s Place it can be pretty aggravating trying to find the nearest Wal-Mart. Also I constantly find myself thinking that I’m in the 3rd season of the OC where Julie Cooper Nichols loses all her money and has to move to a trailer park and soon comes to the hilarious realization that she can put her house in reverse. Haha. Man I miss that show. But even more aggravating than the maze of trailers has been the dog situation. I realize now that when Bob Barker would end The Price is Right by saying “remember to spay and neuter your animals” that he was speaking directly to the state of Alabama. The amount of dogs per square inch is out of control and they all just wander around mating with each other and making some of the ugliest dogs I’ve ever seen. I’d honestly be surprised if there was a single purebred in this city. Three people on team have already been chased down by dogs and one even tore my friend Kyla’s shorts. I’ve always felt that a dog could sense I was a dog lover but that doesn’t seem to be the case down here and going for my weekly run has become the most stressful part of my week. I feel like I owe mama Sesser an apology for all the times I made fun of her when she’d claim a dog tried to attack her during her power prayer walks around the track.

It's a new year and I'm back to the land of below 0

Well here I am. Back in Iowa. Three flights and 15 hours of travel later.

My first flight went pretty smooth. Pasco to San Fran. Once in San Fran we were stuck on the runway for a while and the man next to me started talking to me and asked me where I was going and what I did. So I explained the whole AmeriCorps thing where I’m giving my country a year of service by helping with disaster relief, building houses for people in the south, etc... You know, the usual. I was feeling pretty good about myself. Then I asked him what he did. He told me he worked for the government and was flying to DC for work. I was intrigued so I asked him to be more specific. Turns out he’s a nuclear engineer who’d been hired by homeland security to develop technology that would keep America safe from nuclear attacks from places like North Korea, or maybe it’s South Korea…I always get them confused. Anyways how do you even top that!!! Needless to say I felt kind of lame and wished I had a more exciting job.

My longest flight was between San Fran and Chicago and it was roughly a four hour flight and I had planned ahead and asked for an isle seat because I knew with all of the cran-apple cocktails I tend to consume on flights that I’d be visiting the little boys room probably twice every hour and I hate having to climb over people and ask them to move. Then from the end of the isle I see this red headed kid with freckles hobbling down the isle on crutches with those sad puppy eyes and wouldn’t you know it he is supposed to sit in the middle seat of my row. So the cripple(I think he had a broken foot) comes up to me and just stares at me with those crocodile tears welling up and I’m trying to stay firm but I totally cave and offer him my seat so that he can get out easier. I figure why not, be the bigger man, what’s another crown in heaven to lay at the feet of Jesus? So I got stuck in the middle seat, which also sucked because I’m extremely claustrophobic on planes. 4 hour flight. Had to ask the poor little guy to move out of his seat three before I nearly wet myself from all the juice. And the only movie they showed on the plane was Four Christmases. Apparently Delta didn’t get the news flash that Christmas is long over and its actually 2010 now. Happy New Year.

Another awkward thing that happened during my travel was while I was waiting for my Chicago flight to board I figured what better time to whiten my teeth with my new crest white strips then while I’m waiting for my plane. So I go to the men’s bathroom and slide on the strips with the thought process that I’m not a very sociable person when I’m flying and tend to keep to myself so I won’t have to try to talk to people while wearing these things. Go figure, there I am clutching onto my Eclipse book of the Twilight Series and up comes some lady who’s holding the first book and she wants to know how I like it, if I saw the movies, am I team Edward, blah blah blah. Meanwhile I’m doing my best to not drool all over myself when I speak as I make sure my lips are constantly covering my teeth and of course whenever I give a courtesy laugh to something she says I turn the other way so she’s not wondering what the hell is one my teeth. Moral of the story: whiten teeth only in the privacy of your own home because those commercials are misleading where they pay actors to make it seem like you no one notices when you’re wearing them.

It was nice being back home for the holidays. Mama hooked me up with a $50 gift card to McDonald's which means any weight loss aspirations i dreamt of just flew out the drive through window. I also got to see tons of great friends and family, learned to knit slippers, and had myself a Disney marathon which is always delightful but it was more work and less play as I tried to make up for lost time and get some more community hours. I’m trying to get the Presidential award this year which is a piece of paper that Obama will sign if I complete 100 hours of individual community service. Kind of a gold star kind of thing. It’s gonna look pretty sweet on a resume if the fact that I served at an old folks home and cleared nature trails means anything in the graphic design world. You never know. But either way that thing is going to be framed and hanging about my fireplace for all my guests to see unlike mama and papa Sesser who used to have a Christmas card from George and Laura Bush on their mantle. Tomatoe, tomatoe.

During the first week of break I went and volunteered at Odd Fellows Home, which is where my grandma lives. While serving there I did tons of exciting things like rewinding 45 VHS tapes and playing dominoes with elderly women suffering dementia who must of thought I was born yesterday with the amount of times they tried to cheat. The Wednesday before the holidays was the big Christmas party so I was pretty stoked to help out and spread some Christmas cheer. I put together little gift bags, wrote some of the residents Christmas cards and set up all the chairs for the concert. After all that it was time for the party consisting of what turned out to be a cart full of peppermint schnapps hot chocolate and a local Elvis Presley impersonator who I would have sworn was Ted Kennedy in a blue jump suit if I hadn’t been in DC during his funeral. RIP. So I can’t say I’ve ever been much of an Elvis fan and I’m even less a fan of Elvis impersonators so it quickly turned into an hour and a half of pure torture. I mean I know I was getting community service hours for simply sitting there but I would have taken laying sandbags along the Mississippi river in the pouring rain over this any day. Even grandma hated it and kept asking me when he was going to be done. I think she really just wanted a smoke. We both agreed we wished there had been a Bing Crosby impersonator instead.

Kids These Days

Well I’m locked out of my room so I guess I finally have time to blog again…My team and I just got back from Michigan yesterday and it’s nice to be back at home in Vinton except for it was definitely 0 degrees when I went out for dinner last night which wasn’t very pleasant. These next few days we’ll just be finishing up odds and ends, presenting our project debrief where we talk about the project we just finished and then I’m packing up and flying back to Washington, PRAISE JESUS. All I want to be doing right now is to be curled up by the fire in Sisters, nibbling on some wine bread with my Bing Crosby doll serenading me in the background as I read me some Twilight because ever since I saw New Moon I’ve been dying to read the third book.

So the past two weeks of life have been a whole lot of crazy because someone thought it would be a good idea for me to be a cabin leader to 5th grade boys. After spending two weeks with them I have a new found respect for teachers and a much greater appreciation for Ritalin because seriously that ish should be served to every child by 7 am thus making my life a lot easier.

Starting Nov. 30 my team was assigned the kids that we would have in our cabins and then after that we were given slips of paper detailing medical backgrounds on the kids that might be worth knowing. Most people got maybe one or two sheets and then of course I’m given the mother load of 7 sheets of paper. I was scurred. I found out that my cabin consisted of two asthmatics who couldn’t even power walk without an inhaler, one bed wetter who woke me up at 5 in the morning to tell me he had drunk a lot of water before going to bed but that he had cleaned it all up with paper towels, one sleep walker who I wouldn’t let sleep on the top bunk for obvious safety reason, a kid with ADD who gave me the stink eye for three hours straight on the day he didn’t take his meds, and finally a kid with Aspergers. To put it lightly, I had my hands full.

The week was full of hilarious things because 5th graders are ridiculous and unfortunately as the adult I was forced to try to hide my laughter during certain situations. Some of my fav moments from week are as follows:
1. When a kid named Dorian got stuck on the top bunk because he had an intense fear of heights. Why he picked the top bunk is still a complete mystery. So for ten minutes he couldn’t figure out how to get down and had a panic attack and started crying. This all took place within the first 10 minutes of us moving into the cabin. It took all my strength to keep from dying laughing.
2. When one of the horses farted and coughed at the same time and 30 kids couldn’t stop laughing for 5 minutes. I’ll admit. It was pretty hilarious.
3. When one of my really really hyper kids ran around the cabin in his whitie tighties screaming, “boys just wanna have fun!” over and over.
4. When I tried to convince a group of kids at my dinner table that I was dating Demi Levato and that I had a small part in Camp Rock and then having them tell me that I’m obviously too old for Demi and if I was dating someone famous it would probably be Taylor Swift. I totally went along with it until some smarty-pants blabbed that she’s dating Tayler Laughtner who plays Jacob in Twilight. How could I compete with that???
5.Realizing that the fifth graders that always saved a seat for me at meals were the really popular kids. I’m not gonna lie, it made me feel pretty cool.

Throughout the week that kids attended outdoor environmental classes such as Star Lab where we crawled into a blow up planetarium with a projector that showed us the constellations. It was a great place for naps. The kids also learned how to build fires, look at microscopic organisms under a microscope, how to build a shelter in the wilderness, and how to use a compass. The favorite class for most of the kids was Horse Sense where we learned about horses and then got to ride them. My horse was named Lou and he was the sweetest horse ever. He loved to be petted and he would always put his head against my chest when I’d come up to him. An interesting fact about Lou was that he was known throughout camp as the horse that spontaneously passes out. Once I finally mounted him it was the most stressful horseback ride of my life as I was constantly looking for an emergency exit because if that thing was going down there was no way I could abandon ship fast enough.

Week 1 in Michigan

We just finished our first workweek in Michigan and we’re all excited about the weekend because New Moon comes out! Don’t worry, we already have our tickets. The team left Vinton, Iowa on Monday at an ungodly hour and it’s a miracle we were able to shut the doors with all the luggage we had crammed into the 15 passenger. Some of the team wasn’t too keen on sitting next to each other for 10 hours of travelling; we’re just not there yet, so instead of taking out the back bench seat and putting our the luggage in its place we left it and placed the bags in every nook and cranny we could find. It took us roughly 10 minutes to get in and out of the van at each stop but most people had their own bubble even if it meant everyone kept losing their cell phones, shoes, and knitting needles.

We’re loving our new home in Michigan which we share with a small rodent that leapt down our staircase after Stephon saw him and screamed bloody murder. We’re only 20 minutes from a Wal-Mart, we get to eat all our meals at a cafeteria, and aside from Jhaki we’ve all taken up knitting or crocheting so friends and family of Cedar 1 should be expecting some great stocking stuffers come Christmas time.

Most of our first week was spent taking out invasive species around the YMCA camp. All decked out in our coveralls, earplugs, gloves, and protective goggles we had several kids come up to us asking us if we worked for NASA. Oh fifth graders, they say the darndest things. A local paper stopped by on Wednesday to interview our team and take pictures of us cutting down Buckthorn and spraying herbicide so we’re a pretty big deal now in rural Michigan. The story made front page and people won’t stop coming up to us asking for autographs…ok not really. But give it time. (http://www.mlive.com/news/jackson/index.ssf/2009/11/volunteers_are_clearing_invasi.html)

Actually a group of us were at the local family establishment/sports bar last night and somehow word was getting around the bar that the AmeriCorps people from the paper were there so we had several people come up to us and talk to us. My favorite was a 53 year old Scottish guy named George who’d only been in the US for 5 years who cursed like a sailor and was telling us about how he’s going for the highest bejeweled record on Facebook which he plays on his blackberry. Why he has internet on his phone and I don’t is still a complete mystery to me.