oh, the places you'll go...

*This post was written on 12/23/08. Because of lack of wireless internet (until now, thanks to my parents unsuspecting neighbors and a few well-placed windows), I was unable to post it.

Ryan and I flew to D.C. today, via Atlanta. Whenever I'm in an airport flying somewhere, it's inevitable that I remember when I applied to be a stewardess.

I know what you're thinking. "Callie, you're much too [insert your own descriptor here] to be a stewardess." Or perhaps you're thinking, "Callie, you'd be a perfect stewardess!" Regardless, I for a fleeting moment thought it would be fun. (And I was working at Starbucks at the time -- I was a bit flighty. No pun intended.)

I had been searching for jobs in the PR world for about four months, and stumbled across an ad in the Star Tribune about a company looking for flight attendants. If you were interested, you had to go to this hotel for an interview. So I seized the bull by the horns and went. Wearing a business suite. I was dressed for success.

The first round was a big group listening to recruiters talk about the airline. Then they broke us into four or five groups, where we studied some things (I think for a test, but I can't remember). They'd slowly narrow the group down. The final step was a 1:3 (one of me, three of them) interview, which consisted of me standing in front of them and reading a script.

At the end they posted the list for those who were selected to go on in the process, which included a three-week training in Phoenix. I made the list.

I seriously considered going, but about four days after the interview, I met Ryan. He and my dear roommate Kasea tried their best to persuade me to stay. I decided to stay. A few months later I found and job in PR and Ryan and I started dating. I suppose the rest is history...

Sometimes, though, when I'm on a flight asking for a Diet Coke and see the man in front of me flirt with the flight attendant, I wonder where I'd be today if I'd taken a different career... but I'm glad I took the route I did.

i heard the bells...

"I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day" is not a carol I would have classified as one of my favorites in the past, but for some reason I can't get it out of my head this year. And it really is beautiful. It has an interesting history, too. So, enjoy the words from the poem that later became the carol we sing today.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep;
God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!

an interesting observation...

I'm thinking it's about time for a new blog... it's been a busy week. And what better time to post a new blog than after returning from Christmas with the Briese fam and sitting down to watch the second half of the Cowboys vs. Ravens game in my new Marion (the Barbarian) Barber jersey (courtesy of my wonderful brother-in-law, Troy).

So, while sitting around this afternoon and reading the humorous, tongue-in-cheek book "Stuff White People Like", we discovered that all of my husband's siblings and their spouses work for nonprofit organizations. (Two of them are moms who are busy staying at home and taking care of the kids -- I'm not sure if that qualifies as nonprofit or not -- but it certainly is a full-time job.)

What's even odder to me is we're a bizarre mix of accountant, teacher, maintenance, development officer, attorney and marketing communications. Put us all together and we could pretty much start our own company. Wonder what it would be?

Does this percentage seem high to anyone else? Are we a bunch of idealists marrying other idealists? Should we start our own company?

As a sidenote, the Cowboys are really stinking it up. As a long-time fan, I can admit that. Bring back Troy Aikman, please.

yay. boo. yay. friday edition.

I love this game.

Yay: It’s Friday and I fly out to D.C. tomorrow morning. I spend the weekend with my folks and sister, and then will spend Monday in meetings with my company’s local contingent.

Boo: It’s cold, and I’m concerned about the weather wreaking havoc on all of my travel plans.

Yay: for Baja Sol lunches with co-workers on Fridays. And for caffeine-free Diet Coke.

trading one obnoxious smell for another...

They added/changed the air freshener in the women’s restroom. It seems of orange dreamsicles. And I want to ask, “Why orange dreamsicles? What about a bathroom cries out for orange dreamsicles?”

As you may have guessed, this is not a smell I enjoy in the bathroom. There are other smells I also don’t enjoy in a bathroom, and I suppose the orange dreamsicle-ness is better than those, but come on – whatever happened to a neutralizing air freshener?

I love to eat orange dreamsicles in the summertime [insert Mungo Jerry song here], and I’m getting concerned that this whole restroom experience may taint my dreamsicle experience.

I think I’m going to have to travel to other floors in search of a neutral-smelling latrine. Or become the CEO so I can have my own personal bathroom.

This blog is a wonderful illustration of the poster in my previous blog. Mission accomplished.

in true grumpy monday fashion.

This site has given me many moments of laughter this morning.

I've thoroughly enjoyed my evenings watching the NFR these past few nights. It's one of the reasons I love December.

picks for a sunday afternoon...

Chicago
Minnesota
Green Bay
Tennessee
Indianapolis
Atlanta
New York (NYG)
Miami
Denver
New York (NYJ)
New England
Arizona
Dallas
Baltimore
Tampa Bay

i brought it on myself...

I really did.

On Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights of this week, I was in charge of three photo shoots for work (one per night). It was a last minute project and the time to line them up was short. We worked with a FABULOUS photographer from Appleton, and though stressful, the shoots on Tuesday and Wednesday went well. At the end of the evening on Wednesday, I said to the photographer’s assistant, “You know, I was really worried about the first two shoots. The one tomorrow night should be a piece of cake.” As the words were coming out of my mouth I was thinking, “What am I saying?!?! I’m jinxing us! Stop talking. Be quiet, Callie.” But the damage was done. I’d uttered the words.

So, we show up at 4:30 for the final photo shoot, which was a member event at Orchestra Hall in Minneapolis. Members were going to start showing up at 5. At 4:45 p.m., the caterer showed up (15 minutes later than the absolute latest they were supposed to show up) and dropped off the food. As he’s dropping it off, I realize something dreadful: I forgot the plates and the utensils.

Sidenote: It was cold yesterday. 10 degrees.

So, it’s now 4:50 and we need plates. I grabbed my credit card and decided to sprint to Target. Yes. Sprint to Target. 3 blocks. In my dress shoes. In 10 degree weather. With people gathering for Holidazzle.

I made it there, ran through the store, found the plates and silverware, and then began my sprint back. It’s around 5 at this point. As I’m running, I see a small group of people gathered outside the window the WCCO evening news team. So if you saw a blue flash in the crowd while watching the news, it was me. I’m that fast.

I made it back, cold and sweaty, but with plates in tow. The bartender helped me out by setting up.

All in all, it went well. I got to stand backstage with the concert master and the conductor as they waited to go onstage. (Even helped the conductor out with some minor fashion advice – not that I’m all that fashionable.) We got the great shots that we needed. And I survived the three nights of fabulous photo fun.

I’ll be careful with my words from now on, though. Piece of cake, my foot.

me being real...

Grief is a funny thing.

Well, it’s not really funny – maybe interesting is a better word choice? Confounding? Confusing? Treacherous?

It really is, though. Almost six months have gone by since Nana passed away. For awhile all of my posts were pretty much consumed with the process of dealing with losing her. I’ve never lost anyone close to me before – and arguably, losing her was like losing a parent because she was so much a part of my life.

And it is still difficult on a daily basis. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her or want to call her and tell her something. I want to ask her what she thinks about certain things. I miss the way she would calm me down – because I can definitely get worked up.

I think – and this is just a theory (a hypothesis, even) – that until you lose someone close to you, you think you can always go back. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought we’d all (Mom, Dad, Griff, Laine/Clay, Candra) end up back in Helena and Nana would move back in with Mom and Dad. It wasn’t a conscious thought, really, because when I actually stop and think about how I had it pictured in my mind, we were back at the house on Ranchview and were all living there together. Obviously that wasn’t realistic. But there was still this notion in my head that I could go back and have things be the way they once were – similar to time travel. As long as everyone was alive, we could always go back. So really, I’m not missing the past, but my vision of what the future looked like changed when Nana passed away. It can never be the same again. We’ll never have another Thanksgiving or Christmas with ‘everyone’ again.

So anyway… back to grief. It’s odd to me how I can think about some random thing and think of Nana. And how when that happens, I miss her and grief just overcomes me. The occurrences have lessened, definitely, from a couple of months ago. But I just miss her. It’s indescribable and unfathomable.

The holidays make me think of her. They remind me of her.

This blog sounds depressing – it’s not meant to be. I don’t feel depressed. I just feel sad – and that’s part of life on earth. If we didn’t experience grief how would we appreciate joy?

who are you?

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

--Marianne Williamson

guess he's not immature anymore...

This made me laugh for a good five minutes. Wonder how they got his name?

Could it be his Forbes magazine subscription? His impending membership at the Rod and Gun Club? Perhaps his affinity for old man hats? Or baggy britches? The fact that he gets his hair cut at Great Clips? Too many police officers have clocked him going under the speed limit with his left turn signal flashing for miles at a time? His poor eyesight? His old lady (me)?

He says it arose from cruising for old ladies online.

I really have no idea where this came from. But I find it funny.