When it rains, it pours.

It seems to be that I don't have real great luck with water these days.

This last weekend was an adventure.  Heading out of Eastern Oregon to meet my family, making my way to Central Oregon where the weather is usually nice and warm this time of year to find wind blowing and rain sprinkling at the campground by Lake Ochoco.  The following morning making our way to Clear Lake which during the summer even on the hottest day, apparently still stays a chilly 41 degrees water temp.  BRRRR.  We made our way out onto the lake with clouds in the sky, and a fairly mild temperature.  This was my first time in a kayak.  Let me paint the scene... it's an inflatable, 2 person kayak.  I was going out in it by myself, so the 2nd person seat held my bag, a couple of extra life jackets, and my water bottle.  I slide the small boat out into the water most of the way, and then climb in myself.  Not wanting to dip my toes in the water because of that frigid temperature I mentioned.  I get myself situated and begin to scoot the boat further out into the water off of the shore.  I begin paddling with an oar.  Having never paddled myself anywhere... it took me a minute to get it figured out.  There was a bit of a headwind.  So I learned quickly that I must paddle much harder.  Coming around the bend, by the dock where the men are getting into their drift boat.  They advise me that if I prop up on my knees I will have better leverage and be able to move along through the water much quicker.  It's going to be a hard trek to get out there because of the wind.  "I can do this" I have to continually tell myself.  My arms are already tired.  I decide to get a head start from the boys, yet an 11 year old passes me in his hard plastic kayak ridiculously fast.  Making it look much easier than I have found it to be.  As I'm working my way further out into the lake, I realize that each time I bring one side of the oar out of the water, it runs down the shaft and drips into my lap.  My Nike Dri fit leggings are drenched... and are anything but "fitting dry".  I'm layered on the top with a layer of dri-fit, and a jacket over the top.  I have a scarf wrapped around my head because, well.... my hair was a mess.  Camping and short hair do not mix well.  Just saying.

The wind picks up a little bit and we've all kind of met out in the water, to share the horror stories we all have about how difficult it is to paddle against a strong wind.  The clouds then cover the only sliver of sunshine that was peaking through.  It starts to drizzle.  "Great, just great."  I think to myself.  The wind is blowing me back in the direction that I'd already worked so hard to paddle out of... I have to really dig in and drench myself with each stroke of my oar.  Then the drizzle unleashes it's fury into a full-fledged down-pour.  I'm soaked.  the bottom of the kayak has a nice layer of water, my Chaco sandals hold my ice-cold little nubs of toes, and I fear that I'll drop the oar any moment because of my numb and tingling hands.  It's June in Central Oregon for cryin' out loud.

Ten or fifteen minutes of torrential downpour, and the sun comes out again.  The wind is still blowing but not nearly as bad.  My top half has dried out a bit, but still each time I paddle anywhere I drench myself with the water from my oar.   I hang out upwind of the boys who have gotten their fishing poles out, and were attempting to catch "dinner".

After pulling the boats out of the water, loading everything back up and attempting to thaw out while we ate lunch, we are back on the road to our next camping location.  Sure enough, it's raining.  Most of the evening and through the night.  We were able to crouch beneath the canopy of the trees for a bit and have a fire to warm our bones, while we widdled kindling with knives.  We soak in the hot springs pool a couple of times, and make it through the night.

Point of my story... well I'm just really looking forward to some actual summer weather.  I'd love to do the kayaking thing when it's warm outside and the getting-wet-thing is welcomed as a method to cool off.  I can't even express how excited I am to camp in warm weather, not having to bury yourself under covers to stay warm early in the evening.  Being able to stay up late around a camp fire and roast a marshmallow or five.

If the shoe fits...

Write a blog, they said.  Write about what you know, they said.  It'll be easy for you to make up crap, they said.  So far, writing about my family and my fondest memories has been easy.  Finding things to write about is proving to be more difficult.  But I will not quit trying.  With that said, I'm always open to suggestions.  But in the meantime...

I shall write about what I know.  I know shoes.  I know that I love shoes.  I know what kind of shoes are beautiful, hideous, creative, and spunky.  I know that I love shoes.  Did I mention that I love shoes?  I plan my entire outfit around what pair of shoes tickles my fancy for the day.  "You have too many shoes."  I have heard far too many times.  "What on earth do you do with so many pairs?"  "You can only wear 1 pair at a time."  All of these things, they fly in one ear and right back out the other.  I will not neglect my shoe habit, for it started in the womb.  I love them all.

Birkenstocks I've had since high school

Some days all you need is a comfy pair of shoes and a glass of wine or a good book.
I adore my fun and funky Nike sneakers.  I thoroughly enjoy my black flats, and I feel confident in any number of my pairs of pumps.  Each pair of jeans I own has it's own corresponding pair of shoes that fits perfectly just below the hem.  Each individual pair of slacks I own, also has a matching pair of loafers, heeled mules, pumps, or stilettos.  Every pair of skinny leggings has a sneaker that looks fabulous with a rolled up hem, or a pair of sandals that fit just right.  And every top or blouse has a matching slide, slingback, or flipflop that works with the color.  Even my dresses (which I don't wear often) have a variety of calf height boots that look absolutely adorable.  Blacks work with grey tones.  And brown works with earth tones.  Camel and nude go with almost everything.  And I finally splurged and bought my first pair of Tieks, which are truly worth the money.  Which seems to be a popular controversy these days. 

It must have been a hard day at work

How did I come into this terrible, sometimes pricey habit, you ask?  Well... I suppose I shall blame it on my mother.   For even when I was a wee one and she was the one in charge of my shoe purchases, I had a shoe fund.  A jar of change on her office work desk.  

Do I have favorites?  Of course.  My boots.  The brown leather cowgirl boots that go with anything.  The distressed dark brown with the beautiful, scrawling ivory colored stitching.  They can be worn below the perfect boot cut jeans, or on the outside of skinny jeans or leggings with a long sweater, or with a summer dress made of light and flowing material.  The perfect mix of tough country and dainty femininity.  Or there is always those hand stitched camel colored leather Frye pumps with the blocky grained heel.  The ones that I wear with long, ivory colored linen slacks.

Old, and New

There is a pair of shoes that fit every occasion.  You must have a nice pair of boots that keep your feet protected from the elements.  The mud and the snow are nothing on my Danner's or Sorel's.  And don't forget the comfy stand-by Fatbaby's.  Good for keeping seed out of your socks when you're out in a field, or up on top of a seed truck.  So comfy in fact, that I've gone through 2 pairs of them.




















There's a certain bad-ass-ish-ness that one feels when they have the opportunity to clomp around in a pair of Danner boots. There's a reason they are an all-American work boot.



















There are also occasions when you must have something that slides off in an instant.  Travelling requires it's own type of shoes and, well it's always a good idea to have a huge variety of colors and levels of comfort to choose from.  I almost always take a picture of the shoes if they are in a significant place.  Airport carpet, Lombard Street (Crooked street in San Francisco). You should also document the types of vintage Nike style sneakers you wear to the Nike Headquarters campus after you've spent too much time buying said shoes at the Nike Employee Store.  Sometimes you just need a cute pair of sandals to show off your fabulous pedicure.

I know that I have an obsession.  But it's too late in life to teach this old dog new tricks.  I'll continue down my path of destruction.  I know nobody care that much... but to me, this is my hobby.  To always find just that perfect shoe that fits my foot.  I love shoes.  End of story.

Here's my "Share"

Take my advice.  Maybe just this once.  

Our society today relies heavily on the use of our cell phones.  I'm writing my blog post on my cell phone, so by no means am I preaching to get rid of them.  However, we text more than we call.  We never leave home without it.  And in some cases we don't even touch our family as often as we touch our cell phone.  The average child believes in their heart of hearts that they have a RIGHT to have a cell phone.  The average teenager looks at his/her cell phone over 200 times/ daily.  

Here is my stand on it.  Some will disagree and that's okay.  It's devastating to know that you are no more important to someone than the wonderful world of social media or text messaging your "friends".  When someone is immersed in scanning their feed, they don't see you, they definitely don't hear you.  And despite being in the same room, they aren't with you. 

I'm not against social media.  I partake when I'm bored at times.  I set aside 10 minutes a couple of times a day to look at a couple of apps that I enjoy.  But when I get home at night, unless my cell phone is ringing or I receive a text message from a member of my family, it's typically ignored.  I don't scan social media multiple times daily because none of my acquaintances have posted that many times in 1 day.  And if they have, I've likely "unfollowed" them.      

I use my cell phone constantly to get directions in the car.  I google things that I want answers to.  But I can honestly say, I don't use my phone as a distraction from the real people in my real life.  I focus on the people that surround me.  And if I don't do a good job of it, I'll try harder next time.  

I want to use my phone as a resource and a means of communication.  I am constantly reading and researching things on my cell phone.  It is NOT used as a distraction.  I want to spend my time with my family, without my face being lit up by the glow of a phone.  

Life is hard some days, so the need for a distraction is sometimes welcomed.  A place where you don't have to think, just flick your thumb upwards, I get that.  I have those days sometimes too.  

In the end though, at the end of each day, I want to remember people close to me.  Not something that somebody said that I "liked" on social media somewhere.  Can you truly make a memory with both hands glued to your cell phone?  Can you enjoy someones real company and be there for them to support them or listen to them if you're reading about what some friend or your co-worker's cousin's ex-BFF said on social media or are 17 acquaintances deep when you looked at who "she" was in a relationship with and saw that "they" were friends with that one "person" who was really attractive, and looked at their profile and saw that they had a bunch of big-boobed selfies posted... ?

Take my advice, maybe just this once.  Give the people around you the attention and respect a real human deserves, put your phone away.  Just try it.  

OCD

My name is Tiffany and I have OCD tendencies and am kind of a control freak.  I've known this now for a number of years.  I am unable to change it and have chosen to embrace my freakish ways.  

I'm willing to share here a few of my Tiffany-ISMS.  I feel that as long as I'm willing to admit them whole-heartedly that it makes them okay. 

First of all, the most important one is that there IS a correct and an incorrect way to load a toilet paper roll onto the dispenser.  The new square should always feed on the top of the roll.  The other way is obviously backwards.  This rule, to my mother, is ridiculous.  My mother also has OCD tendencies, so the fact that she does not feel this topic holds the kind of importance that it does, baffles me.  

I shall share a quick story.  The last office I worked in had a large number of employees with multiple restrooms.  The restroom closest to my desk had approximately 8 stalls.  When I enter the restroom, I always go to the same stall.  And every day the toilet paper was installed into the dispenser incorrectly.  Nobody really knows the frustration that causes me.  

It's a wonderful thing if you have decided to be a good citizen and help take out the garbage.  Whether it be a chore that someone has deemed yours to take care of or you're just feeling helpful it doesn't matter.  The act of taking out the garbage is a multi-step process.  Please don't half-ass it.  You may as well not do any of it at all.

1.  Take full garbage bag out of the can. 

2.  Take said full garbage bag outside to the dumpster.

3.  Bring your happy rear-end back in the house and REPLACE the garbage can liner. 

Now, you have successfully completed the process.

I count stairs.  Yes, that's all there is really to say about that. 

I cannot wear a greasy film that some call lotion on my hands.  

There is a difference in the following words: their, there, and they're.  And if I see them used incorrectly on Facebook, I  will "unfollow" you. 

If you plan to travel in the left lane, please be patient and wait your turn to pass all of the slow ones in the right lane.  If you are one of the ones that will pass 5 cars all traveling the same speed, on the right and then immediately slam on your brakes and cut off all 5 vehicles.  Prepare to receive death glares from my rig.  

I hate the word moist.  

 

Whoever said "Practice makes Perfect" was lying.

"Keep your head down."

"Take another practice swing."

"I said, keep your head down."

"Don't forget to bend your knees."

Oh yes, bend my knees further... I'm a ridiculously tall super freak.  It's like I'm trying to take a squat on the tee box.  Swing, smack, watch it go, looks beautiful.  SPLASH!  Into the water.

"Great hit."

How on God's beautiful green planet was THAT a good hit?  It went into the water, like the other 13 balls I've hit and lost.  Sometimes I hit the ball well.  Other times, I feel like Alice from Alice in Wonderland playing a game more like croquet with a beaked bird as a club instead of this thing we call golf with my pretty turquoise themed clubs.

Golf shorts don't fit me right.  My legs are too long.  My white Nike shoes are getting dirty I notice as I walk down the fairway.  Why, oh why do I enjoy this game when I suck so bad?  I'm frustrated more often then not.  Yet, I continue to try.

Arnold Palmer once said, "Golf is deceptively simple and endlessly complicated."  A hit that I think will do me well in the end becomes disgustingly terrible.  And when I hit it entirely off the fairway and it looks like I won't be able to save myself from numerous strokes over par... I chip it up with ease and grace and save my bacon.

You see, this is new for me.  I began playing golf merely months before I turned 30.  We'll consider this one of those "new" things I'm trying in my 30's.  I'm fairly certain I'm getting worse.  I started with beginners luck.  Now that I try to improve, I get in my own head in an attempt to silently coach myself and stink up the place.

Can you hear the chuckling bird?  

I can. 

The struggle is real, people.  Golf is HARD!!  But I'll keep trying, because for whatever reason, it's fun to be out on the beautiful grass, spending time with people you love.  

Shenanigans for my 30's

It's time to try something new.  I've been on this planet for 30 years now.  Yes, here I am admitting (in writing) that I've just turned 30 years old.  Everybody keeps telling me, "30's are the new 20's" or "My 30's were way more fun than my 20's".  

Here I am, now in my 30's as people say and I need something to challenge me.  My work challenges me some days and people challenge me in my day to day life.  But I want to do something else.  Find an outlet to be creative.  

I recently attended a seminar.  The target for the seminar being the administrative professional... because technically that's what I am.  But more than that, I loved listening to the speaker talk.  And what I really got from her was finding something to really motivate me.  Find something that I really want to do.  Something that I've always wanted to do.  And for years now, I've wanted to write.  Am I good at it?  No probably not.  Do I know what I'm doing?  NO, definitely not.  But as the old saying goes, Here goes nothing.   
My joke has been for some time now, "I should write a book".  Hearing the crazy things that people do or say in my profession.  Sometimes you can't make this junk up.  "I should write a book" I say.  I have a ginormous family, "I should write a book" I say.  I have a lot of "likes" as the world puts it these days, a few passions (COFFEE among others)... "I should write a book" I say. 

So here is what I shall start with.  A new challenge.  I don't know what my blog will be about yet or if anybody will ever read my posts.  I doubt I'm ready to write a book.  But I will start with a blog.  I hope to find daily inspiration to write.