It was the first real weekend I can remember in forever.
We slept.
I did laundry. A lot of laundry. I did household chores.
We went to the Diner for breakfast.
We had a Winter Wind show and saw friends and heard some great music.
There was coffee and CBS Sunday Morning and waffles.
The Mr. did his crossword puzzle.
I baked delicious zucchini/oatmeal/carrot/crasin cookies. And when he went to do the very final bits of OKC house duties, and gathered up his tools and gave back the key I did more laundry and made roasted vegetables and baked parmesan chicken for supper.
Bless his heart he’s exhausted, what with a late night, and it being 3rd Sunday 5am working today, he’s asleep before halftime of the football game. The cats are curled up on him, and all is quiet in my house.
I’m don’t even have any Sunday Mourning happening.
It feels good to get back to living. It feels really really good.
I’m making a list of songs that I want to learn with Mark. I’ve got a few in the queue for us to learn.
Any suggestions?
We’ve decided to take the teardrop to Granite next weekend. My California family will be there and we’re going down on Friday as soon as we can cut loose from the week. I can’t wait to see them, and to show Mark this town where I spent so much of my childhood. We’ll go for some walks and maybe go to Medicine Park/Mt. Scott on Saturday.
This week holds a cookie sale webinar on Tuesday, meeting to discuss Pseudo Sis 3’s wedding (which is less than four weeks away! zomgineedadress) and a CST meeting in Chickasha on Thursday. Zoom. Another week down.
After the crazy breakneck hours from my work, and the whole Grad School Thing finally getting closure, I just kind of flopped this past week. I had zero focus, could only make myself attend to the most menial and required of tasks. I would be asleep before Mark could turn off the tv and walk from the living room, most every night. But I think I needed that decompression time.
I still feel tired. This man and I are temperatureily incompatible. It’s our greatest incompatibility. But we’re working it out. Today we had waffles for breakfast. He’s doing his crossword, the cats are asleep at the foot of the bed, I’m playing on my computer and reading (I got the new Bridget Jones) and later we’re going to go do a few tasks at Julie’s house and pack up all of our tools and say goodbye to that project. Thank GOD. I’m sure I should do some laundry, or plan some meals, or do something in the yard…
but for right now I’m going to be still. and think about that puppy we are going to look at today. 🙂 *details to come
You remember the Seinfeld episode on masturbation, right? I mean, don’t we all? It seems ridiculous now in this day and age that THAT was so groundbreaking…but it was hysterical. And Kramer.
Kramer with the two seconds, then slamming money on the bar with I’m OUT!
Unspeakable things…unspoken.
About three weeks or so ago, I started my own personal test with myself.
I re-took my comprehensive exam for my Masters degree.
You who have read here awhile, or who’ve known my life remember that  the first time I took it and failed…it was just the perfect storm of fuckery. There was no way I was going into that and winning. I didn’t know that at the time, so the failing was perhaps as big a blow as I’d had in many months.
It was during that time that the prophetic words of Bill became my solace.
“sometimes when things are falling apart, they’re really falling into place.”
That failure of the test rerouted me to where I am in my life today in terms of life work. I’m not sitting in a Ph.D program in Stillwater, I’m not on that vicious merry-go-round that is Academia. I am exactly where I’m supposed to be. In an altogether different kind of classroom, yet still advocating for women and girls to find their voice and know without a doubt that girls can, in fact, do anything.
Three weeks ago, I retook the exam.
And I waited.
It would be about a week and a half before I knew anything, they said.
It was a week. A Wednesday. I got the email.
Congratulations, Misti, your committee has decided to schedule your oral defense of your exam. This almost always means that you will pass.
I kept that info to myself for 24 hours before even telling Mark. I told my sister some days later.
Then came the second email.
I’m sorry to inform you, Misti, but two of your outside graders have failed two questions and your committee has decided to uphold that. Please immediately drop this class. You can try again next semester.
I sent an email from my phone that contained the words Fuck It. It may not have been fitting for a graduate English student, but I believe I got my point across.
I refused to let myself respond further until the weekend was over. This was a Thursday night. We were supposed to see the Lumineers in concert that night.
We didn’t make it.
And here I was again. Taken out at the knee. Wondering what was wrong with me, how much more could I take, how much more did I even want to give to an institution that clearly had either just given me a 3.75 gpa without merit, or allowed me to become a statistic of academic warfare within the system.
I cried. I was beyond shamed. I felt…void. I have already racked up many many many dollars of student loans for a degree that it appeared I wouldn’t receive, and that really for all intents and purposes…no longer needed.
My life wasn’t going to change if I had that degree. I have a job that I love, that gives me struggles and joy, that makes me work harder than I’ve worked in years for tiny teensy winning moments that, to me, are the most fulfilling.
I no longer felt like I had let people down as I did the first time failing the test. I grew enough from that experience to realize the reality of the world.
Crisis in Humanities? I’ve seen it. Face to face. It’s the 9th grade girl from Douglas High School who had a friend killed the night before she came to do Girl Scout programming at Oklahoma City University. She left that day asking me questions about how to apply for schools, amazed that it was even an option for her. She said, “maybe I’ll be an actress and a nurse.”
Maybe she will. If she makes it.
So I’d somewhat come to terms with the failure and had started to wrap my head around how to break this news. Again.
Then I got the third email. On a Saturday.
Congratulations, Misti. Your committee has decided to move forward with your oral defense. It is set for October 15th at 1:00 pm.
I looked at Mark and said, “I’m in an abusive relationship with UCO. The last time I was ever made to feel so perfectly inadequate one minute and completely worthless the next, I was in an abusive relationship with an alcoholic.”
I wrote back that I was going to need some advising on exactly what my inadequacies were, and how to approach them in a way that would help me succeed in this process.
I was advised to contact the two professors who failed the questions and get their feedback as well as scheduled office time with my advisor for prep.
Ok.
The emails to the outside professor were ignored. Until I got yet another email stating, “please don’t contact Dr. P about your exam. He doesn’t want to talk to you about it.”
*smh
at this point, we have to start laughing or digging out the voodoo doll, right?
I went today.
I had conversations with my advisor. I know that he’s working on changing this broken system, but as with any kind of change it has not been met with open arms, and there is collateral damage.
Though I may regret posting this today, as we have no idea until I actually get the diploma if it’s true or not…
I have passed my defense. I have my Master’s Degree in 20th and 21st Century Literature.
I got to tell them about my experience. I had the opportunity to lay it all out there, gaping oozing scabby sores and all.
But what I did was tell them how this degree that, on the surface seems useless, has in fact been put into use in my current reality.
No, I’m not in front of a classroom teaching Comp 1 to incoming freshman and working on my dissertation. Yes, I’m at times getting my ass chewed out by bitchy, mean girl volunteers.
But I’m using it.
Because that 9th grade girl?
I got to tell her about this book called Beloved that I read again in this class I took. I got to talk to her about how sometimes the past is the thing that has this grip on us and it feels like there is no other way to go but backwards. I got to tell her that she was her own best thing.
And I got to tell them that, too.
It may all blow up again tomorrow. Or next week. There may well be another email that begins with, “We are sorry to inform you, Misti… ”
Last week is finally in the rear view, and thankfully all survived and maybe even excelled from it. Yesterday I finished up the event and went grocery shopping, came home and grabbed a bite to eat then just crashed.
Hard.
It was that delicious, dead, heavy during the day guiltless kind of sleep. Mark woke me up because we had to be at the Frontier for family photos and some fall festing which by the way was glorious. I can’t wait to see our photos, and sitting by the fire, watching the boys play like hyenas was just perfect. It almost made up for missing the real Fall Fest…but I’m still really sad about that.
Today, I got my butt in gear and got my tax stuff ready. I’ve waited until the last 48 hours before my extension is up because frankly, I forgot about it. The new job, the move…it just escaped my mind. As I sat and went through bits and pieces of paper I thought, I won’t have to do this again. Next year, my taxes will be easy. All of these bills and paper? I don’t own that place anymore. Glorious.
Mark is finishing up the last of the repair list at Julie’s house today. There may be a thing here or there but for the most part we’re done.
I have one more big big thing on my calendar this week but by Wednesday I think it will be easy to breathe. We can focus on unpacking here, and getting truly back to living the quiet life. I’ve got green chile stew on the stove for supper tonight, it’s overcast and rain is coming. For the first time in so so so many…I’m breathing in without this big lump of anxiety.
I’ve been meditating this weekend on what a year brings, and trying to really let go of the anxious. It was one year ago this weekend that I met Mark. One year ago this weekend I was knee deep in anxious and needed that mountain music get away like no other. No one could have guessed how my life was going to change. No one could have even tried to tell me that from that weekend forward…everything would be different…I wouldn’t have believed them anyway.
One year with this relationship that has moved me right off of my center of gravity…and centered me like nothing ever has before.
I know that all of the change was necessary, and I’ve survived it for the most part, unscathed. But I’m tired. I want to be in my home, and be domestic, and gather with my friends who know me, and celebrate this life without worry and anxiety over anything more than just daily tasks.
Got home after 10pm last night after another CST meeting in Shawnee. I did get CPR trained, so that’s a plus. So tired today…and I should be giddy as it’s Friday. YAY!
I have a recruitment event tonight that all of four girls have rsvp’d for, so who knows if it will be worth it? or a big waste of resources and time. Either way I’m NOT going to be at Fall Fest on the Frontier and that’s almost too much to even imagine. I will get to see the family tomorrow, we’ll have our own Fall Fest tomorrow night after family pics and that will feel amazing.
While the week has been manic, we’ve accomplished some big things around here. The repairs are THIS CLOSE to being finished on Julie’s house. There will be some time this weekend to get at least two more big things checked off the list, one being putting our front porch back in order, and getting the fire pit in place. I need some fire in my evenings.
It’s been a breakneck week for sure. I’m glad we’ve almost survived. After I finish the last component of the event at 11am tomorrow…I’ll be free for a few hours. I hope you have some free hours too.
Minivan Momma is really doing great things with Thankful Thursday, with her daughters 1 & 2, they are incorporating activities into their countdown to Thanksgiving.
Minivan Momma has her shit together way more than I do. I’m sitting here feeling like Goldie Hawn in Overboard when she’s glazed over… just saying Bubbubbahbubbahbubbabbubbubbubbahhhh.
You know exactly what I’m talking about don’t you?
Admit it. You love that movie as much as I do. (it’s okay if you don’t. I love it enough for both of us!)
I had the realization yesterday as I was rushing to Council for the first of my 4 meetings, that I haven’t spent anytime with anyone that has known me longer than a year, in I don’t know how long. In the last few months, my only outside interaction other than volunteers and Mark, have been the women and men that I work with at Council.
I’m so thankful that we have all developed relationships that are bound together with common goals and experiences, laughter and frustrations. I always always always feel better after spending time there. My CEO is amazing. She is steadfast and supportive and when she laughs/smiles she is all in. Product Sales, the Shop, Business Services, IT, our Front Desk, Volunteer Relations, Finance, Fun(d)Development, Mar/Com,Programming…seriously. I enjoy them all. I feel better after having conversations with them. Some have been there for a really long time. They know the path I’m on, they offer advice and an open ear and a quick laugh when I need them.
I miss my friends. I miss SundayFundays and quick after work catch up sessions. I am so so thankful for the internet, because it gives me the glimpses I need to sustain. But it’s not the real thing.
I’m so thankful that my friends, those that have known me, and those that are just getting to know me, are in my life and understand that this is what life is right now. I am so thankful that when I get a minute, we will grab time and be able to pick right back up. I’m thankful for the internet, what allows me to connect with my friends near and far, and get the support as well as give it. It’s by all means not a substitute for the real thing, but I’m thankful nonetheless.
I told Mark as we sat on our porch and had our decompression time once I got home about 8:45 last night, that it felt good to sit and be happy and not feel defeated. It felt really good.
I had the most successful recruitment event in little old Ninnekah Oklahoma, that I’ve ever had. The leaders are in place, and THIS CLOSE to finishing the training required before they get their troop number and can begin meeting. The girls were pouring in, membership forms and money filled out and handed in, excited mothers filling out volunteer apps and offering their land for activities, offering their help with the troop. Everyone. Was. Happy.
I left the leaders there talking, at 8:00 about their troop and how they wanted to work it and what they wanted to do. It was so inspiring!
I had some pretty honest communications about some touchy subjects with my CST officers in one of my CSTs and got back some really great responses. Forward motion. It felt really really good.
I have two big big things I’m juggling but by Tuesday evening they will be behind me. Taryn and the Boys are coming in this weekend and hopefully the weather will cooperate for family photos on Saturday.
Here’s hoping you get a win today. Or that you are a camel.
Over at Minivan Momma they’re starting the celebration early by giving thanks on Thursdays. I thought I’d join in.
I’m thankful today, for Mark.
I know I know you’re rolling your eyes and grumbling about how sappy I am and about how of course you’d be thankful for a boyfriend bla bla bla fishcakes.
Well, sure. I don’t deny any of that.
But during these past few months, as his job ramped up to MockFourCrazy and mine began to slowly eat my lunch one bite at a time, he has been steady and solid. He never yells when we are completely out of clean whites. He will go to the CVS at 7am to get catfood when I haven’t gotten to the store for the week. Last night, as I crashed dead before 10pm he stayed up and did laundry.
The first words out of his mouth this morning were, “you have allstaff in oklahomacity and you have to wear black pants and they are in the dryer”
Because ya know, zero things clean in this house as of yesterday.
I am thankful to have a partner in this crazy, even though Sammy has decided that he loves Mark more than Little Friskies, I am thankful that—while I know I can navigate this alone—I don’t have to.
I don’t ever want to take him for granted yet I know that will happen as is human nature. Today however…I place it here.
Yesterday was rough. Not right at first. When we woke up yesterday, there had been rest, the temps in the house were cool and the covers and cat were easily keeping us tucked in bed. The coffee was delicious and while the talking heads were telling us about this shut down in Washington was looming, I was actually looking forward to going into my office with a clear head, a plan of attack and knowing that it would be a long day, two pairs of shoes.
60 minutes in that whole feeling of resolve fell apart.
I’ve got a woman who just decided to set fires all over the state. I spent the whole day putting them out. She’s flat out lying at this point. She lied straight to my voice when I called her. In fact, yesterday, I was in pretty much constant contact with her via email and phone yet I kept getting messages from other women in the organization, “I just got off the phone with Schmickie Schmeck, she’s really upset because you told her there would be a troop for her daughter and she’s already paid all of this money…”
Now folks, we all know that managing expectations is the best way to circumvent conflict. And from the beginning I was honest with this woman. We do NOT have a troop at Wilson. I DO have someone in place to start one which is usually the most difficult part. I did a recruitment night there and ONE girl and her mom showed up. ONE. There is blame to place, and I take 99% of it. This is a learning curve. I will do things differently next year for sure. But I never once promised that woman a troop.
What I said was “it’s my GOAL, and I am DETERMINED to put one there. I want to offer the girls of Wilson this experience. NO you are not required to purchase the full uniform at this event. We are still a month and a half out before the GS year begins, I haven’t made a troop yet, so it’s YOUR CHOICE to pay for the uniform and things.”
What she heard, and what she’s spreading all over town is, “Misti Pryor PROMISED that there would be a troop at Wilson. NO one will call me back. She won’t answer my questions. I’ve paid 75 dollars for all of this stuff and I want my money back. NO one at Girl Scouts will let my daughter be in a troop. She’s missing out. My neighbors kid has already had three meetings. I told her I would consider other troops in the town where we live. ”
She got connected to my CEO yesterday. AFTER I had emailed with her three times. She lied to me when I called her and said that conversation was last week so my phone must have just been messing up, or my email or something.
At the recruitment event, the mother who has Twin Daisyaged girls who was turned away from a meeting last week with the words, “we don’t have room for you, you can’t stay here” and left with two crying children, found a troop. Thank God.
We formed a new Daisy troop as well, even though the mothers arrived pissed off because they had phone calls that had not been returned by the troop organizer for a month, and my intern told them the wrong address of the event so by the time they got to ours it was the second stop for them.
The Treasurer of the CST stomped in, handed over all of the financial paperwork and left. She quit with a passive aggressive email flounce a few weeks ago because she didn’t like the way a vote was going. Hateful mean-girl. She’s part of the troop that rejected the twin Daisy girls.
The CEO was at the event last night, and I found out that my whole intern/supervisor thing I’ve been doing has just gone to crap. She’s been at the office in OKC. I’ve sent her tasks and work and talk to her daily, and knowing she’s in the office with Shannon and others that she was asking and collaborating with them on these tasks.
Not so. Yesterday I had a phone call from Product Sales … “Who exactly is supervising this girl?” . . . ummm I am allegedly. Then last night I found out that a big project had NOT in fact, been OK’d by the CEO. It’s a disaster. I’m pulling the reigns and she’s going to have to come to office in Norman, or we’re going to have to re-evaluate what to do with her. I don’t actually have a need for her until the Spring, and we don’t want to pay her to check email. She’s right out of high school. So her skill set in the professional world is nil. I honestly don’t want to fail the test that this clearly is, but I don’t have any damn time to deal with someone else trying to work, I’m doing well just to keep my own office from going down in flames.
Needless to say, that when I left the event last night, I cried all the way to my office. I dropped off the car, sent a few emails and did some troop organizing and got ready for today. By the time I got home sometime after 9:30pm, I was met with a hug at the door, and a little jelly jar of wine.
Today however, I wake up and it is October. One of my most favorite months. Audra has a birthday, Talaura does too. Delbert and Vernon have their first anniversary this weekend. I see family again this month, and some awesome live music starting this week with The Lumineers.
Misti Ridiculous 