Doing nothing is rather hard to do

Unemployment.

It's awkward, let's be real.
Interesting things happen when you're by yourself with not much going on and apparently no purpose in life.

Thankfully, orientation starts on Monday and I will happily depart the world of the jobless with scraps of my sanity still intact, but before I do, I wanted to leave behind this list of reasons why unemployment is the worst. Read it, and be encouraged that no matter what happens to you, at least you don't talk to strangers about cheese.

The Unemployment Effect:

#1. The Facebook Background
     I think I set world records for how many times a person can check Facebook in one hour. If someone had changed my desktop background to a screenshot of the Facebook homepage, it wouldn’t have increased how many times I saw it every day. With my homepage constantly on standby in the background of my life, I would jump on each new notification like a female college freshman on a jar of Nutella, then impatiently sit and stare at the screen, waiting for a socially acceptable amount of time to pass before responding. After all, it simply wouldn’t do to be answering all queries with 10 seconds of the time they were posted… people might get suspicious.

#2. Loose Connections
     Spending a lot of time at home by myself led to some interesting consequences. In addition to a decline of passable social skills and inability to sustain a decent conversation, my thoughts started leaking their way out into my words. Normally this wouldn’t be too much of an issue, but my thoughts are rarely complete, coherent sentences. They run more along the lines of, “So that’s why this but the door was oh but it doesn’t matter because well it’s not too important anyway and the dog needs the internet for the next couple hours.”

#3. The Cheese Factor
     I mentioned that decline of passable social skills, right? I denied this particular side effect for a long time, but even I had to admit things were going downhill after a conversation I had two weeks ago, when the
words “I love cheese” escaped my lips. Not simply “I like cheese” or even “cheese adds a certain taste palette to various foods which I find rather enjoyable.” No. With enthusiasm, I proclaimed my undying love for cheese and proceeded to discuss with a near-stranger how each type is just as good as the others.
Needless to say, I was horrified later when I realized this person probably now knows me as “that cheese girl.”

#4. Siren Sweatpants
     I’m pretty sure that in the beginning, when God declared it was not good for man to be alone, he also muttered under his breath that it is not good for April Ether to wear sweatpants all day long. Moses just didn’t catch that part, I guess. The siren call from those heavenly garments of flexibility and sweet-baby-angel kissed soft fabric may be almost irresistible, but to quote Admiral Akbar, “IT’S A TRAP.” When it became necessary to leave the house (and actually look somewhat like a normally functioning human being), my body protested against the relative torture and confinement of even a pair of jeans. “These are not clothes! This is madness, who came up with this preposterous idea?”
Along that thought, sweatpants quickly become the only pair of pants that fit when a lot of free time and a fully stocked fridge get together and produce the type of food baby which doesn’t go away in a few hours, but crashes on your couch to stay for a month or two.

Of Marriages and Maids [part two]

The seestor is married!

Actually, the seestor was married about a month ago. So why am I just now getting around to writing about it? Simple. There is finally photographic evidence that this event did in fact occur and I was in fact a part of it. Evidence which I will share after some thoughts.

If I learned anything from that weekend, it would be this: weddings will not go according to plan. Rental chairs will not come on time, Christmas lights will uphold their reputation for being notoriously unreliable, everything will run behind schedule, and the bride will need to be sewn into her strapless dress when the 90 degree weather makes the double-stick tape obstinately refuse to do its job. However, while it might not be the wedding everyone had in mind, at the end of the reception when two of the people you love the most run away from the party in a tunnel of heart-shaped sparklers and a rising moon above, everyone will agree that it couldn't have been more perfect.

Em and Chad moved to Colorado about two weeks after the wedding, and they are now happily settling themselves before he starts doctoral classes at the end of the month. I can't wait to visit them as soon as I can afford a plane ticket there! As much as I love my sister, it is not advisable for anyone's mental health to make a 20+ hour car trip in a vehicle with no working stereo system and no one to talk to, so plane it is.

Pure Joy

I sprinted up the driveway, breaths coming hard but steady and even, heart pumping strong with each beat to push life through my body. Heavy black clouds pursued my brother and me as we finished our evening run, and the drizzling rain which came in spurts warned of the downpour to come.

Racing against the storm, we climbed the steps to our porch and, turning around to watch, saw the rain pour out of the sky. As a girl who loves a good thunderstorm, and because I felt the rain needed a consolation prize for losing the chase, I ran out from under my shelter to greet the sheets of water.

I fell down spread-eagle on our driveway, the hard concrete at my back and the grey sky above with the raindrops striking my face like kisses from heaven. Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply and reveled in each sensation, each shred of experience, and the thoughts that came with them. My heart swelled, and I laughed aloud at the thought that life is a gift, and it is so good to be alive. God's power was evident in the wind, his gentleness appeared in the caress of the water on my skin, and I couldn't help but imagine him belly-laughing in heaven along with this child of his who was giggling like a little girl at the fun of getting soaked by the storm. Spirit called out to spirit; his to mine, and we lay in the rain together, as Father and daughter.

I also couldn't help but think that with a different perspective, it might have seemed a miserable and hopeless situation. If you looked at me with a narrow focus, I was there on the ground - wet and cold - with no shelter and no immediate or apparent way of escaping the rain. You would have pitied me and thought it was such a shame I was suffering like that.
But I had a different, broader perspective. I knew my house was right behind me, and I could go in when I was done, the wet and the cold wouldn't last forever. There would be food, a towel, hot tea, and my favorite pair of pajama pants. There was joy ahead, but there was also joy in the moment, made sweet by the knowledge of what was to come.

As a Christian, I should have a different perspective on life, in trials and pain. If I remember what is coming, what is ahead - the reward that Jesus promises and the incredible gift of himself and his unveiled presence when we go home to heaven - what joy that should give me in even the darkest trials and situations of life!
They will become bearable and even sweet in a way when I realize that Jesus is lying next to me on the driveway in the rain, and when it is time to go inside the house, I'll hand him a towel, he'll hand me a cup of tea, and we will rejoice in unhindered fellowship together.

I long for that day when Jesus and I will walk in his back door.

It's a boy!

Except not, because blogs don't have gender.
But I do want to announce that I've started another blog over at aprilether.wordpress.com

Feel free to join me over there if you like - I'll be talking about all sorts of grown-up kinds of things, such as big girl jobs, missions work, and this life of faith in Christ that I am trying to live.

I won't abandon this one. After all, every writer needs a place where he or she can write about platypuses, coffee, and crafting, but it's useful to have two different blogs for two different purposes.

All right then! I'll keep ya posted,

The Barista Confessions, part 2

What's your friendly neighborhood barista to do once she is no longer privileged to work behind the bar?

It's been eleven weeks since I last picked up a portafilter and a tamp or poured my best lopsided rosetta.
Not an extravagantly long period of time - I went without using my barista skills for much longer than that last summer break - but it feels much longer in light of the knowledge that I will not be returning to my favorite coffee-stained tan apron and massive poppa pot fresh brew filters in the fall.

All of the busyness and activity throughout my summer so far has been a distraction from remembering life as it was in McConn, but a few things happened recently that sparked a sudden nostalgia and reflection on my drip brew days.

The first happened about a month ago, when my sister and I ran the Sunburst 5K. If working up enough motivation to run 3.1 miles is difficult enough, it's even harder to do at 6:00 in the morning on a Saturday, and four years of college taught me that coffee is the answer to nearly any question, so I found myself at the closest Starbucks at 5:55 AM. Worried that they might not open in time for me to be caffeinated for this race, I glanced over at the hours of operation.
Open at 6:00 AM.
I stood there awkwardly in the front door, just playing with my phone and keys while I watched the lone employee scramble to get everything ready.
It reminded me of 7:00 AM shifts at McConn. As a happily self-proclaimed morning person, I have worked many opening shifts without complaint. But (and I'm going to be completely honest here, so if you're one of my former customers, please don't take offense) mornings don't often go as planned, and it can be frustrating to have a customer walk up to the register 4 or 5 minutes before the official opening time, pressuring you to be ready when your morning tasks have unexpectedly fallen behind schedule and you're still popping muffins in clamshells rather than putting the last touches on timing the shots.

Standing in the Starbucks that Saturday, I encountered for the first time what it is like to be on the other side of the equation. To be the customer awkwardly waiting for a coffee shop to open, rather than the barista frantically trying to set everything in rights behind the bar. To all my customers - I get it now. Too bad this experience didn't come sooner, so I could "get it" when I was still serving you.
I wanted to tell her I understood. I wanted to reassure her that I know what it's like to be in her position, that I didn't mean to cause her stress by being early. But I didn't. Hopefully, she has also experienced the early-morning coffee crunch, and was forgiving of my minor coffee house faux-pas.

Every spring, McConn holds an end-of-the-year party for all the employees. This party happened back in April, but a friend of mine recently finished editing the pictures she took at the party, and she shared them with us a few days ago, which brought on my second wave of nostalgia. As I scrolled through the smiling faces, I felt a strong longing for the community and friendship we shared. It's one of the best things I have ever had the privilege to be a part of.

Picture by Alicia Wines Photography

Finally, I volunteered last week at Camp Geneva, where I worked over the summer in 2012 as a camp nurse. It was an incredible week, full of friends, God, and lessons, but those are stories for another time. For now, I'll simply say that I was catching up with one of the girls at the end of the week when she mentioned her new job as a barista at Biggby Coffee in Holland. Since these are the barista confessions, I will admit that yes, I felt a twinge of envy at her news.
There are days when I have the crazy, hare-brained idea that I can get it all back. In light of my recent frustrations and discouragement with the job market for brand new graduate nurses, I am sorely tempted to ambush the nearest coffee shop and stiff-arm a copy of my resume to the barista behind the bar saying, "I have two years of coffee experience (one as a manager), and I'm desperate to be back where you are currently standing. HIRE ME."
But there are two reasons I refrain from confusing that poor unsuspecting soul. First, no matter how excellent any other coffee shop may be, it will never be McConn - you can't duplicate that place - and I would be bitterly disappointed by the comparison. Secondly, I recognize that part of my life has ended, and God is leading me to other things. It was good for a time, but now is not that time any longer, and he and I will have different adventures as we move on.

I will most likely never work in a coffee shop again, but espresso will forever run through my veins and I will always claim the title of "barista" just as strongly as I claim the title of "nurse". Nurturing the community of my campus, fueling caffeine addictions, and enriching a customer's day through a smile and a laugh brought me feelings of joy that resonate as clearly in my memory as they did in the moment they came, and I will continue to treasure those experiences.

Read from the beginning: The Barista Confessions, part 1

Of Marriages and Maids [part one]

On December 26, 2012 my sister asked me to be her Maid of Honor.

Well, technically it was December 27, 2012 seeing as she called me at 1:00 in the morning after her fiance proposed. I offered something along the lines of a guttural grunt of consent when she asked me the question, but to be completely honest, I don't remember most of the conversation due to my sleep-induced delirium and may very well have agreed to trade myself in for a goat or become a bondservant for the next seven years. 

Regardless of whether my future liberty is in question, the wedding planning is coming along well, and I couldn't be happier to support my sister in all of her bridal preparations. 

Yesterday completed my first major MOH responsibility - the bridal shower. I am quite possibly a tad bit more than an perfectionist and most definitely a lot more than a overachiever, so my mom and I were busying ourselves for weeks to get ready for the party, keeping my sister in the dark about most of our plans all the while. (After all, shouldn't the bridal shower be a surprise?)

It was more than worth it when everything pulled together that afternoon, and I watched Emily enjoying herself with the friends and family who came to celebrate with her in this exciting new change. After the party was over, she tried her veil on for the first time and I could picture her the way she will be on July 20. It just seemed right somehow, like breathing in a sigh after unconsciously holding your breath for a while.

Nearly 40 people squeezed into our living room to fellowship with our family. We ate fruit and cake, listened to Emily tell stories about Chad (always my favorite part), and played two shower games: the Price is Right, Bridal Edition and a memory game where we hid the bride from sight and the guests had to recall details about what she was wearing during the party. 

And next, of course, came the presents! With 40 people to give gifts, there were so many bags and boxes packed around our feet that we couldn't move, but each one was admired and appreciated with time to spare. 

Frozen lemons in the ice cubes for the lemonade, and mint leaves in the ice cubes for the iced tea

Chocolate Cinnamon fruit dip
(makes approximately 1/2 cup)

1/2 cup vanilla Greek yogurt
2 tbsp. Nutella
1/4 tsp. cinnamon

Mix ingredients together well. Serve immediately or refrigerate until needed.

Honey Vanilla fruit dip

1 cup vanilla Greek yogurt
1/4 cup honey
cinnamon to taste

Mix ingredients together well. Serve immediately or refrigerate until needed.

Bridal shower favors

Friends for 22 years, and favorite sisters for just as long

All of the girls from both families - Mother of the groom, bride, Mother of the bride, and sister of the bride!

Next up on the list: Bachelorette party. 

The 'rette party and my NCLEX exam are in the same week. Here's to hoping I come out the other end alive.

 

Welcome back

Here it is.

My first blog post as a college graduate.
An IWU alumna.
The holder of a Bachelor of Science in Nursing degree.

But not a nurse quite yet. One more monumental obstacle remains.

The NCLEX-RN 2013.
The mother of all nursing exams. The test for which my graduating class has been preparing since we arrived on campus sophomore year, with bright eyes and brighter hopes because we were now NURSING STUDENTS. No other test has even come close. Not Sloan's Crit Care cardio test. Not Reed's Adult Health II final. Not even Wolgemuth's Pharmacology exams, aided by cheat sheets crammed so full of minuscule handwriting they were nearly illegible.

Notice how I've said "remains." Which means I haven't taken it yet. Which is why I haven't written anything in five weeks. When I first arrived home after graduation, I used lots of excuses to avoid cracking books for this test. Once I realized that this was probably not the study method that would lead to the most satisfactory results, I wised up and began reviewing information.

and information.

and information.

All of the information. From the past THREE YEARS.

Needless to say, everything else kind of lost its significance. Studying for a test that has the power to dictate whether or not you can practice where your passion lies really messes with your emotional stability.
On good days, I feel like Supernurse:

"Step aside, people. I can start IVs in one attempt on dehydrated veins with only my non-dominant hand and STILL maintain sterile technique. (Oh, and calculate titrated drip rates in my head at the same time.)"

But on bad days, you'll find me curled up in the fetal position on the floor as I slowly dissolve into a puddle of inefficacy, eyes fixated on that one point in space which will keep me from flying into a thousand useless pieces.

All that to say, I've been pretty preoccupied. Hopefully I will take the NCLEX before the end of the month, and this will all be behind me.

After the end of the semester, I was home for less than 24 hours when I told my father, 

     "Dad. I want to re-paint my room." 

And he said, 

     "Okay."

And I said,

    "But I'll do it all myself and...wait, what? Really?"

So for seven days, twelve hours a day, I completely immersed myself in Project Pinterestify April's Bedroom. It was fun at times, ridiculously hard work at others, and I pulled some life lessons out of it, which I can tell you about some other time if you're interested. Anyway, voila! The (almost) final result.

Eventually, the various paraphernalia on the floor will be on the walls. Eventually. 

Currently, my life consists of just four things: NCLEX prep, job applications, pursuing time with God, and helping my sister. I have one sister. One's all you need when you've got the best one.

She's getting married this summer (to a ginger by the way), and asked me to be her maid of honor. I've never been a maid of honor before, never even been a bridesmaid before, but goshdarnit I am going to be the best maid of honor there ever was for the best sister I've ever had.

We ran a 5K together this morning (um, yeah we're that cool), and I am so proud of her. So. much. fun.

More races in the future, yes?