An Interesting Realization

So I was sitting in my cubicle in the late afternoon at the Fed and I was beat. I could have napped right there. There was no chance my body was biking seven miles and doing the other various torturous gym activities I find myself doing. I just wanted to go home and sleep. Perhaps I was getting sick, maybe dehydrated, or ever lacking sleep. I am unsure.

I do know the following:
- Back in my teaching days; I walked around, talked all day, never had a moment to rest, yelled at kids, walked up and down 5 flights of stairs all day long, no AC and nagging children constantly saying, "Ms. Ribods...."
- Now I sit in AC, cushioned chair (who knew they existed?), stare at a computer, speak the language of acronyms, interact with maybe 5 people in person and I'm no longer on an 8 period schedule.

5:00pm is the new 3:20pm. Conference calls are the new faculty meeting. Lunch? No one does it. And there I am.....ready to pass out at around 3pm. I am not sure what to make of this lifestyle I am living this summer. It's odd. It's what most of the working world deals with everyday. How?! I don't miss teaching, but I miss getting through the day in one piece.

Verdict: The grass is not always greener :)

Cubicle Face Time

So I recently started my internship at a federal government agency. It is a bit different than working in a school mainly because I find myself in a cubicle and there are no kids here. I am learning that working in an office with adults may be worse than working with kids. You cannot threaten a phone call home or a lunch detention to adults. On the other hand, I have not come across anyone worthy of a lunch detention. Everyone is very nice and helpful here.I have no clue what the weather is while I am sitting in the cubicle, it is almost like I am in a time warp, but the day does go by quickly.

I am quite impressed by the security of this place. It is slightly more secure than my classroom with the busted lock. Now I have not one but two separate ID cards that require thumb prints and codes to be punched in. My roommate thinks the ID's can get us through velvet ropes of local lounges and bars. I am not sure I want to test her theory.

Despite learning a ton about a certain humanitarian part of the government (I'm being vague here on purpose!), I hate the thought of not having a summer vacation. Thankfully, I still have a beach pass and hit the sand on the weekends, but there is something amazing about sleeping late every day for 8 weeks and getting paid for it!

Sardinia

I recently got back from a 10 day voyage to Sardinia, Italy. I took 12 kids from one of the schools that I work at. I don't think the "12 kids" part registered when I was asked to go to Italy for FREE. I think it finally hit when I was at the airport getting the kids checked in and it came time for me to get my ticket, I asked the agent to put me far from all the pubescent children he just checked in. Unless you are flying first class internationally or coach on Singapore Airlines, the experience across the pond can be long and mundane with the exception of free wine for everyone! The combination of three glasses of wine and Tylonal PM, put me out for much of the 7 hour journey to Rome and refreshed enough to deal with missing our connecting flight in a foreign country. Luckily, the sight of my last name and saying I was Sicilian seemed to be my get out of a sticky situation card in much of Italy. The traveling experience as a whole felt like being on the Amazing Race with the addition of 12 extra pieces of carry-on baggage that moaned and whined. This quickly led to the enforcing of two important rules: the questions "where are we going?" and "are we there yet?" were prohibited unless you wanted an extremely sarcastic and possibly offensive response from chaperone Ribods.

The trip on a whole was amazing. The people were incredible. The food was awesome (no shocker there). It was hot, it was sticky, there were no AC's or fans, but it wasn't bothersome. I mean, this is Italy! I consumed maybe 8,000 calories a day, but it was fine. Saying no to food is far worse than eating it and dealing with the aftermath. I ate figs and apricots off the tree, made bread, started a sketch book, swam in the Mediterranean, walked about a mile into a grotto, studied an artist, attended an Italian mass, and just enjoyed the life. I lived with a host family that spoke no English. Communicating became a mixture of my horrible Italian, Spanish (got me no where), and hand gestures. I'm sure I said "yes" to questions like, "do you like to eat the heart of a lamb?" and "so you are Sicilian? You know they are the dirty scum of our nation?" It all worked out though.

Here are some pictures (click on them to immerse yourself in Sardina!):

The group before catching the boat to the beach.

Mini espressos...who needs Starbucks.

The beach....I'm not sure we had a good reason to leave.

A cool tree we all ended up climbing during our lunch siesta.

My host family and fellow chaparoner. (l-r: Francesca, Ribods, Pepe, Jerry)

The church where you kneel on planks of wood...no padding here.

The view from my bedroom overlooking the town of Orani.

Seafood salad....I only ate the shrimp, but it was impressive to look at.

Standing behind a cutout of traditional Sardinian garb....wool, it was 95 degrees.