Where the Emphasis Is

Generally speaking, observing where an organization spends its money and its time can give you a fairly good idea of the organization's priorities.

Today, our ward's priorities became clearer during the hour-long 5th Sunday combined RS/PH meeting presentation/orientation on (insert drum roll here): Member Care of Church Meetinghouses.

The young men joined us, as did the Primary and young women instructors. The YW were conscripted to teach Primary so all the adults could all attend this meeting.

It began with a Power Point presentation. First, the requisite joke: step-by-step instructions on how to clean the toilet using pet shampoo and the cat, signed the dog, with photos of a wet cat and a dog appearing to convulse with laughter.

The bishopric counselor giving the spiel reassured us we would not have to actually clean toilets. And also said several times this was not being done to save money (although it will).

We received copies of a 1998 letter from The First Presidency asking church members to assume more responsibilities. Attached were forms outlining the cleaning responsibilities and a sample letter describing the cleaning assignments and other families assigned to clean the same month. We'll be notified by letter when it's our turn. No word whether we'd be coordinating or duplicating efforts with McAllen 2nd ward. No snow removal, heh, heh.

After the counselor finished with more Power Point slides, there was unavoidable Q&A--why are there so few trash cans in the building? Why no changing table in the restroom closest to the Primary rooms, RS room and most of the the building's classrooms? How much notice will we get? What if we're not available for our turn?

The Facilities Management guy bore testimony that cleaning our building somehow makes it possible to build more chapels overseas, even though the church has the money to do that anyway. While he babbled about building and maintenance costs in other countries, he started an urban legend that there are more Christians in India than there are in the rest of the world combined. (So earnest and yet so wrong).

Supposedly, we have the OK to do missionary work in India (thanks to the Miracle of the Unnamed Church Bureaucrat who made this possible at GBH's request) but lack the infrastructure and the 65,000 missionaries India purportedly asked for.

I was inspired--to ask Mike to bring his Palm to church today. I played Solitaire throughout the presentation and seethed about the level of effort that clearly went into today's "Put Your Shoulder to the Wheel/Swab the Font" presentation when (just as clearly) no thought/effort went into our ward's Easter Sunday.

Administrivia: 1. Weightier Matters: 0.

Campus Life

Verging on the end of week two. I ran and started distributing my first set of reports and met a whole bunch more people who will be involved going forward.

For a commuter school, there's a lot happening on campus. There's a list of the day's activities on the website. So far, I've swabbed my cheek and applied to be on the bone marrow donor registry. I checked out the jewelry and knife/fork/spoon combos created by one of the metalworking classes. There's an art exhibit in the Visitor's Center and an art & textile exhibit in the communications building lobby.

There's a Chuck Norris fan club. The Asian American Association was selling nachos as a fundraiser. Almost every day some club or other is selling food. Saw a posting for a SLTS meeting; that could be fun depending on which vowel one inserted. (It's an acronym for Student Life and Transition Services). I wonder if the SLTS meet at the STUN? (Student Union).

Mike and I ate lunch together than checked out the racquetball courts, thinking we could go after work a couple of days a week. At lunchtime, there wasn't a soul playing. When we went back at 5:00 pm, every court was booked 4-7:00 pm. Hoping once the new athletic center opens, the demand will shift to the new courts.

The outdoor tennis courts might be a less occupied alternative now that it's starting to heat up.

Still Searching

for an environmentally friendly, biodegradable (ideally compostable) reasonably priced cat litter.

Feline Pine wasn't it. The kitties used it, but didn't seem to like it. They track sawdust all over the place and fling it outside the box with their energetic digging.

So we got a box of the wheat litter that's supposed to clump hard and not work over the environment. Unclear whether it's also compostable. But that's moot because I don't like it.

True, it's more like conventional litter and does control urine odor, but it doesn't clump into a clump. It clumps into a wet mass that you have to chisel off the bottom of the cat box. And it smells like damp wheat. Definitely a turn off for the farina-lovers.

I hate the idea of going back to conventional litter, but it's either that or lint roller the cats' paws as they exit the box. Hardly a practical solution.

Oh, yeah.

My blog got a makeover this morning. What do you think?

Week One Wrap Up

My new supervisor was wise to limit how soon I met certain people involved in our operations. It was Thursday before I got to first week Overload.

That's when I met the Compliance Officer--who is, by all accounts and my experience, a nice, helpful man--who introduced me to the database and advocated we (meaning me) run and send out Fall Time and Effort certifications Friday.

My supervisor suggested a less aggressive schedule (next Friday will be fine) and we brainstormed how to distribute/circulate the certifications to get all the signatures. I played with the reports, identifying changes to the layout and adding run/due dates in hopes of making this process as painless as possible for the faculty who have to review and sign off on their research employees' time. Worked with the Compliance Officer Friday to make the changes.

I'll send an email to the certifiers letting them know to expect these reports, what they're supposed to do with them and steering them toward online Time and Effort training modules if they want a refresher. I may do some modified training materials featuring the actual reports, since no one knows what they look like and how to review/interpret the information therein.

My email is hooked up. I have my faculty/staff ID. I've already trained myself on Time and Effort reporting and read through the policies governing our area. I need to figure out the Outlook email program, the Access database and map out the logistics for the first report distribution.

Overall, I feel like I've got a pretty good handle on it.

On School Shootings

I was walking through the Student Center my first day of work at UTPA when I saw CNN's early coverage of the shootings at Virginia Tech. Not knowing any details, I thought "massacre" was a strong term. Later, I was chagrined to have assumed a case of overblown media when the descriptor was all too accurate.

Every time there's a campus shooting, it takes me back to spring 1988 when a bright, talented and troubled kid brought a semi-automatic weapon on campus and took his Humanities class hostage.

I knew that gunman, Jeff Cox. He was cute, personable, a transfer student to our campus. We'd been in several drama productions together. I have pictures of us with our arms slung around each other at one of my birthday parties. (I even made out with him once in my mom's Peugeot in the In-N-Out Burger parking lot after a party. Good kisser).

Nineteen years ago, school shootings/hostage situations were uncommon. Jeff fired a few shots into the classroom walls before being wrestled to the floor and disarmed. No one was injured or killed, thankfully. The campus was pretty shaken up. Who knew this would grow into a trend?

Over the years (read: after each new campus shooting), I've wondered what happened to Jeff. A note posted on the school's alumni web page last year purportedly from Jeff apologized for his actions of April 1988 and said he's become a much better person now. He asked if anyone had contact information for one of the guidance counselors who'd helped him that day and included an email address.

I've been debating about sending him a note (assuming the address/message is legit) saying that I've thought about him over the years and was glad to hear things are better for him now than they were in April 19 years ago. Because, as we've seen this week, it could have been so much worse for everyone.

Sock Monkey's First Day at the Office

Things went well! I was actually more overwhelmed by the 2.5 hour interview than I was the first day on the job.

I immersed myself in policy and procedure manuals and browsed through the University's website to get more familiar with the environment.

I took a tour of the 3rd floor where we'll be moving in the next month or so when the renovations are complete. Not sure where my digs will be in that space, but we'll have our own private loo!

Found out that my supervisor and I have the same birthday and three of the four of us in Research Administration have birthdays and wedding anniversaries in July. I hope we can agree on a cake flavor for future group celebrations.

Must be brief--I should be in bed already, but old habits die hard.

Gardened Today

And guess where I forgot to apply sunscreen?

Got 'em in Spanish?

I got a call from the Breast Cancer Prevention Fund soliciting donations for mammograms for women who can't afford them.

A good cause, but would my donation go to someone in MY neighborhood, where the incidence of breast cancer is quite high? The solicitor said it would--they're based in Dallas. I'm not anywhere near Dallas; wouldn't I be better off donating to the American Cancer Society in my town if I want my support to stay local?

The poor girl thumbed through her script; I guess this part wasn't covered.

She asked for me using my first name and married last name--not a combo I use--so I asked where she got my number. She couldn't tell me. She said how much each mammogram cost and wanted to know how much I planned to give so she could send the "right envelope." Just send me the forms and I'll decide how much I can kick in, OK?

She offered to send me free self breast exam shower cards--did I want any? I asked if they had the cards in Spanish. Ummm, I don't know, I'll have to ask my supervisor.

I said the population here is largely Hispanic/Mexican/Spanish speaking and that's who's getting breast cancer. If their organization doesn't have resource materials in Spanish to distribute within Texas, they're doing a disservice to the women who need them most. DUH!

When the donation forms arrived a few days later, there was a note from the solicitor saying she was going to speak with HR about getting Spanish shower cards.

I'll send them a check. I'm also going to follow up on those shower cards...

Blogspit

Tried to log in and post a new entry to find The Powers moved me over to the new version of Blogger without notice!

Yes, what I need is more change and upheaval right now.

Easter in the RGV, Part IV: The Jaw Dropper

I vented to the good organist (who was home sick Sunday) about the non-existent Easter in the McAllen First Ward. She's a former Episcopalian, likes good Easter programs and typically attends another church on Easter, that smart cookie.

She told me that the ward is planning an Easter program for April 15--the Sunday AFTER EASTER. She and her husband are the speakers.

There's just not a font big enough to express this, but WTF?!?

I AM APPALLED. Having an Easter service a week late is not BETTER than dissing Easter on Easter.

If I have this right, fast & testimony meeting is important and must proceed as scheduled. No matter what.

Easter is important, too, but we can just celebrate it some other Sunday when it's more convenient.

What, like it's the most significant event on the whole Christian calendar?

Easter Feaster

We had a beautiful Easter dinner: grapefruit & avocado salad with mustard poppyseed vinaigrette and cedar plank salmon with a thyme/brown sugar/red pepper rub. And potato salad to use up some hard cooked eggs.









Alas, one of these dishes made Mike violently ill the next day. And even though we ate the same thing, I was fine.




Of course, there was a basket of goodies.

There's More! Easter in the RGV Part III

If you're rolling your eyes and asking, "Girl, what is UP with the three posts about Easter? Give it a rest already," I'll understand. Nonetheless, there's still more to say about Easter in the RGV if you feel like reading further.

First: Don't go shopping during Holy Week. Every Mexican national with disposable income is in McAllen buying stuff. I spent 45 minutes in the checkout line at Ross on Good Friday afternoon wondering if Mass was anywhere near as crowded.

Second-and-harder-to-accept: the Mormons here don't do a bleeding thing to celebrate Easter and no one seems to notice or care.

Since our ward has the 1-4 pm timeslot this year, Mike and I decided to alternative services Easter morning. I'd written a Monitor column about St. Matthew's peace gardens & labyrinth and talked with the rector a couple of times, so we decided to go there for their second Easter service with music.

It was a good call. There were Easter lilies and flowers decorating the sanctuary, beautiful music, an intelligent sermon, welcoming people and--best of all--palpable Easter joy.

I had to sightread most of the hymns. I enjoyed the selections from the Book of Common Prayer and the interactive Peace part of the service, during which people greeted each other enthusiastically and wished each other peace.

The rector announced the church's upcoming Holy Smoke BBQ, which gave me the giggles. And I met the woman who planted the peace gardens who was a client of the physical therapist I worked for on whose desk I found the postcard about the labyrinth and peace gardens which is how I learned about St. Matthew's in the first place.

Several people invited us to stay for coffee after the service, but we had to dash back to make it to our ward. We should have quit while we were ahead.

The assistant organist was mutilating the opening hymn when we walked in and I made an unfortunate pew choice which put us in front of the mission president's wife who sings loudly off key, bless her heart.

Mike nudged me and whispered that there were NO Easter hymns on the program. I knew there weren't going to be any choir numbers, but no congregational hymns, either? The bishop got up and announced it was Fast & Testimony meeting. My surprise turned to dismay then to shock and disbelief and then to RAGE.

I sat there seething and wishing we hadn't come at all, since being pissed was crowding out all the good juju from St. Matthew's. So I grabbed the hymnbook and sang all the Easter hymns to myself. Meanwhile, a couple of testimony-ers mentioned Easter in passing and others not at all.

I thought about going up and bearing my own rip-roaring testimony of Easter in Pasadena Ward with resplendent choir numbers with pipe organ accompaniment and last year's program focused on the women in the Easter story. Alas, I was too PISSED OFF and didn't trust what I might say with an open mic in front of me.

Instead, I read the Easter/resurrection story from all the gospels. Finally, the bishop stood to wrap things up--and called on ME from the PULPIT to say the closing prayer! If he'd had ANY idea of the murderous anger in my heart about testimony meeting trumping EASTER, I'm sure he would have asked someone else.

But he "asked" me and I got the last word. I asked that we'd ponder and grow in our understanding of the Easter story and the risen Christ--and I worked in a little something about the women who found the tomb empty on resurrection morning.

After SS opening exercises were done, I turned to the SP and tried to get some kind of explanation, saying "I don't remember the last time Easter was on a Fast Sunday--I mean, I know it has to happen, but I can't recall the last time it did." He explained (like I was four) that last Sunday was conference, so testimony meeting got bumped back a week. No apology or acknowledgement that this completely dissed Easter.

The rest of the meetings were equally void of Easter. According to several ward members, no one gives a rip about it and the ones who do are tired of fighting to get good music onto the program or wrestle people into attending choir.

I just don't think I can let this slide without officially registering how appalled I was that THE foundational event in all of Christianity was treated like any ordinary Sunday. Makes me HOPPING MAD.

I don't know that it would do any good, but at least it will explain our absence from on any/all subsequent Easters the ward chooses not to recognize.

Easter in the RGV, Part II

After weeks of temperatures in the 80s, we're getting a drizzly, cold Easter weekend. Puts the kibosh on what I'd planned to wear tomorrow.

It also put the kibosh on our ward's Easter Picnic this evening. Instead of picnicking on blankets in the park adjacent to the church and hiding eggs outside, we retreated to the slightly warmer cultural hall for Easter festivities.

There were the requisite pastel sprinkled and bunny-adorned cupcakes, lemonade and watermelon slices but the main dish was something unexpected: Frito Pie. Cuz nothin' says Easter like chili on Fritos!

I'm sure someone could torture this dish into a spiritual object lesson: the Fritos lose their hardness when doused in chili--like hearts being softened through repentance. (Like how I put that in passive voice?)

Or Frito Pie is like our ward family: the Fritos and chili and sour cream and shredded cheese can each stand alone, but we're much stronger--and much more delicious--when we're together in the same bowl!

Considering the weather, chili was a good call regardless of whether any deeper meaning can be derived from Frito Pie.

Fishing for Comments

Actually, I just wanted to see if comments are enabled on this new post, since something is awry with the Easter post.

Easter in the RGV

The only antique mall in town is closing its doors, so I went to scout for bargains. In the parking lot, a trio of women were sitting under a beach canopy with Easter wares spread out around them.

Pre-dyed and decorated Easter eggs were $4.00 for 18. There were pre-assembled Easter baskets and Easter Bunny piñatas. Because nothing captures the true spirit of Easter like beating the daylights out of the Easter Bunny, right?

For parents contemplating holiday gift fowl, Wednesday's front page story warned about the samonella danger of handling live Easter chicks. Because we can't enjoy holidays without some type of attendant scare--razor-laden apples at Halloween, the spontaneous combustion of Christmas pajamas, turkey-induced comas after Thanksgiving dinner. Watch out, that Easter chick could KILL YOU.

More intriguing, the article mentioned that a local company sells dyed Easter chicks. There was a psychedelic photo of said chicks accompanying the article. Why?!

Sadly, this will be my least musical Easter in a decade. The ward choir here pooped out after one number at Christmas. Our organist (a former Episcopalian who understands the NEED for good music) will be playing some jazzy prelude and postlude music, but that's a FAR cry from the musical feast we had every year in Pasadena Ward. We're thinking of visiting an Episcopal church in the morning to get a musical fix.

That, and we're not sure if we can get reservations this late for Easter Brunch--a Robertson family tradition.

Sigh.

Please, call me Project Effort Reporting Specialist

PERS for short. UTPA extended and I accepted the offer to work in Research Administration in the above mentioned role.

I will provide oversight and act as the main contact for time/effort reporting for faculty/others working on federally-funded grants, contracts, cooperative agreements and sponsored projects.

More simply, I keep track of, assist and train faculty how to keep track of their work/progress when they're on someone else's research dime.

Mom is the litmus test of how well I explain my job description. I think she kinda got it when I told her tonight, but I may have to reiterate. Or refine the description as I figure out what I do. Gotta love those new job learning curves during which you frequently feel like you're asking every stupid question there is. :)

I start April 16. They aren't sure where I'll sit permanently, but said it may be possible for me to do some work from home. I'm planning a little celebratory shopping to supplement the work wardrobe and maybe an outing for Thai food. Mmmmm.

Adios, Life of Leisure?

Came back from playing tennis to find a message on the machine from the head interviewer. A decision has been made and the rest is bogged down in personnel. I should get a call from them in the next 24 hours.

She didn't say I got the job, so perhaps I shouldn't assume. Stay Tuned; I should know more in the next few days.

Gee Whiz

Apparently one--or both--of the felines in the house is annoyed and is registering said annoyance by peeing outside the box.

So far, the protest sites have included our bed (a small stain on the white comforter cover; grrr) and the guest room where we keep a litterbox so we can sequester either misbehaving kitty.

Belita gets locked up when her manic laps through the house get unnerving and PK had a time out when I hosted book group. Either one could be pissed and/or pissing.

It's hard to tell who's the culprit or what the problem is--resentment for bringing a new kitty into the house? A shared hatred of Feline Pine? Come to think of it, I've only noticed peeing outside the box after we switched over. Hmmm. Maybe I should try that clumping wheat litter.

I picked up a bottle of Nature's Miracle and saturated guest room carpet. Moved the litter box into the guest bath during the cleanup. The good thing is even the cats can't do much more damage to the guest room carpet than the previous owner's two sons did. Still, I'd prefer the kitties didn't try.

Blog Stew

When I don't post daily, I end up with a mishmash of subjects that I want to write about before I forget the details. Tonight before I turn in, I offer a serving of blog stew.

--No word yet on the UTPA job. From the second conversation I had with the head interviewer, I suspect they're still fine tuning some aspects of the position.

--Mike brought home 5 dozen Einstein's Bagels from his trip to St. Louis. We had to consume some ancient ice cream in order to make room in the freezer.

--I went to the newish Sephora store for makeovers with my friend, Minerva. Afterward, I introduced Minerva to Thai food. :)

--My Sephora makeup artist was/is the first gay person I've met in McAllen. Yay! He said the gay community is pretty closeted/bearded here and he was thrilled about escaping to New York in three weeks to be with his boyfriend.

--Had my first experience of commiseration with a woman from the ward. She called Saturday and vented about insensitive comments from ward people during her long illness. After recounting intimations of how proud/unforgiving/faithless she must be because she is not healed yet and that a woman who was particularly rude to her is her new VT, she burst into tears.

I confessed I had uncharitable thoughts about the RS pres and the new VT companionships she's imposed, pairing working women with SAHMs and effectively curtailing VT opps to evenings/weekends. (I also went one uncharitable step further and used a Texas accent in retelling the RS pres's more exasperating demands. Would it be a stretch to call my uncanny ability to mimic accents a spiritual gift?)

My co-conspirator said it was unrealistic to expect the RS pres to tell me what she wants when SHE doesn't know what she wants. Apparently, she tends toward grandiose but incomplete visions, leaving everyone who works with her in the same bind I'm in. It was nice to know it wasn't some failing on my part, but rather her standard M.O.

Anyway, I gave my co-conspirator a much-needed laugh and both of us felt less alone in our struggles. I'd call that win-win.