Out

This post from True Office Confessions made my day:

10.23.07 2:04p

I wish I could use these out of office messages. It would make me happy:

1. I am currently out at a job interview and will reply to you if I fail to get the position. Be prepared for my mood.
   
2. You are receiving this automatic notification because I am out of the office. If I was in, chances are you wouldn't have received anything at all.
   
3. I will be unable to delete all the unread, worthless emails you send me until I return from holiday on 4 April. Please be patient and your mail will be deleted in the order it was received.
   
4. Thank you for your email. Your credit card has been charged $5.99 for the first ten words and $1.99 for each additional word in your message.
   
5. The e-mail server is unable to verify your server connection and is unable to deliver this message. Please restart your computer and try sending again. (The beauty of this is that when you return, you can see how many in-duh-viduals did this over and over).
   
6. Thank you for your message, which has been added to a queuing system. You are currently in 352nd place, and can expect to receive a reply in approximately 19 weeks.
   
7. I've run away to join a different circus.
   
8. I will be out of the office for the next 2 weeks for medical reasons. When I return, please refer to me as 'Margaret' instead of 'Steve'.

SUPAR

It's official: I am an ordained minister of the Universal Life Church.



I see the face you're making, the face that says, "Why, Sarah? What has compelled you--you who are not outwardly spiritual or at all religious--to become an ordained minister?" I'll tell you why: My roommate, fellow art major, and very close friend from college, Jen B, called me about a month ago to tell me that she had just gotten engaged to her boyfriend (and former biology TA), Dave. So, being her only married friend, and having more experience with wedding planning than anyone else she knew, she asked me what to do first. My advice: ENJOY BEING ENGAGED for a week or two, talk to Dave and get on the same page as far as *how* they wanted to do the deed.

So she did. And then a few days later, I had this e-mail message from her:

“Ok, so I have the most random of questions for you and I am just going to go ahead and ask…

Would you be up for getting ordained online so that you would be able to marry us?

We would like one of our friends to marry us, since, while we are very spiritual, we do not declare a certain church. When we came up with the idea of getting one of our friends ordained, I thought of you. Dave and I both agree that it would make for a
well-worded, light-hearted and non-dry ceremony… It’s just an idea and if you
don’t like it, just say so. We realize it’s a strange request, but interesting all the same. We just think you would be perfect!”

Once I realized she was completely serious, I was *LITERALLY* speechless at first and physically could not tell my husband or even move or make a face. Instead I made him read it for himself as I went to take a double shot of ice cream. He thinks I will giggle the whole way through. Jen A and I agree that I’d be very good once I’m up there and rehearsed. Unless I have to wear one of those robes with the giant puffy sleeves. Could you imagine me up there with giant puffy sleeves? Flapping my arms to make them flutter; pulling out a bouquet of flowers, a dove, a box of doughnuts, a cup of coffee.

Although I must say, despite the fact that I have given up trying to be religious, somehow the prospect of getting ordained makes me feel strangely immoral (yet delightfully free) where refusing to be Catholic, as I was raised, or Jewish or Buddhist or Zoroastrian does not. Perhaps it's simply due to the fact that this is something I never even in my MOST BIZARRE IMAGININGS imagined I would have considered or even thought to do.

So I did a bit of Googling before replying to her, and realized that getting ordained online is sort-of akin to becoming a notary public, although the process is shorter and easier and, well, free. You also get to choose your church title; I was fond of "Free Thinker," "Rationalist" and "The Very Esteemed," although Keith insists he would refuse to refer to me by such a title: "Yeah, Mom, me and The Very Esteemed Sarah are coming over for dinner." "Goddess" is pretty good too, although I could also be a "Martyr"--but that one really should be earned.

But I believe I have found *THE ONE* (ready?):

UNIVERSAL PHILOSOPHER OF ABSOLUTE REALITY

I think it's appropriate for an artist/teacher. And when you write it out like this:

Sarah, Universal Philosopher of Absolute Reality

it makes the acronym SUPAR. Which is SO going on my business cards.

A breather

Today I experienced the joy of doing NOTHING. Or, rather, not having to do anything, although I still did practically nothing. It was beautiful.

I did feel a bit guilty about not posting for a while--not even to celebrate MY QUARTER-CENTURY BIRTHDAY--and I have something to post, but I'm waiting until I'm back at work to adjust the image size for the Web.

So, since I was feeling a big linky today, I created a list (over there to your right) of some of my favorite blogs and Web sites--mainly so that I could get to them from anywhere without having to memorize the URLs, but also for you to enjoy. So enjoy. :)

We were here.

This past weekend, we traveled to Cumberland to attend the closing reception for a gallery show called "Fresh Produce." I submitted three works to the show (Sweet 100, Swiss Miss and Strata-licious), and all of them were accepted, while about 25% of entries were cut, which is pretty darned good if you ask me.

Anyway, since we were all the way up there, and since the cheaper hotels were out in Garrett County, and since we just bought a kick-ass new DSLR, we decided it would be a good idea to head out to Swallow Falls State Park on Sunday.

And while the woods and the mountain streams and rivers and waterfalls and fall colors are wonderful and beautiful, the thing that never fails to impress me is the human desire to have existed. I expect to find names carved into dead trees and benches and stairs and railings, but I can't quite figure out how they get their names into the rocks because I am guessing they don't bring lasers or sand blasters with them.

This time, we discovered Bob Maroney, 6-16-19:



I only wonder if Bob was really there on June 16, 1919, or 1819, or even 1719, or whether he was there on like June 16, 1983 and just ran out of time or got tired of carving into the rock, or perhaps an unexpected rush of water swept poor Bob over the edge and down the mountain. Or maybe he was eaten by a bear.

So, believing that Keith and I also deserve to have our names immortalized on the rock, I set out to do just that, only feet away from where Bob Maroney once sat, carve-carve-carving away so that even if he achieved nothing else, all who came to this spot on the edge of Muddy Creek Falls when the water was running low would know that Bob Maroney saw it too--long ago--that life is transient, fleeting, frivolous, while the rocks, the trees, the water--they keep the stories of our sacred selves forever.

Unfortunately I'd left the hydrocutter in the car.

Back to basics

*In a whisper*

At this very moment I am sitting in class. Education class. Technology for Instruction and Management, to be precise. A graduate level course.

We started by playing Solitaire (for real). And then, moving on to an activity slightly more complicated, we got into Paint. You know, because we are GRADUATE students.

And THEN--JUST when we thought it couldn't get any more difficult--we opened up Word, and were instructed to type our first names. Then align it to the center. Then flush right. Enter Enter.

So now I'm just killing time after finishing the Making Tables in Word activity. This one was complicated, as it involves MERGING and SPLITTING cells. *HOLY* CRAP!

I know what you're thinking: Sarah, why are you BLOGGING when you should be PAYING ATTENTION to the instructor?! You might be missing out on the learning of VERY IMPORTANT, GRADUATE-LEVEL skills like HOW TO CHANGE THE SIZE OF YOUR PAGE MARGINS.

At least I have a lovely document with my name in the center of the page set in 20-point Arial, bold and underlined, lovely green, surrounded by a decorative border of a repeating slice of cake with pink frosting, to show as a true example of my technological prowess. Gggrrrrroooowwwwww.

Swiss Miss

Sarah Schodroski Ehman
Swiss Miss: Friendship Liquefied and Piping Hot!
September 2007
Paper
7" x 5"

Sweet 100 - Part II

Sarah Schodroski Ehman
Sweet 100
September 2007
Paper
8" x 10"

Read about Sweet 100.

Survivor

Mom: Sarah, how would you answer this question we had for a team building exercise at work today: if you were stranded on a desert island, which 3 people would you like to have with you, and which 3 books would you want to have?

Me: Hmmmm... Well, ideally, I would like to have 3 friendly island natives there with me. But in case there are no people on the island already, I would need Keith there because he would be able to teach the rest of us how to build shelter out of grass and spit, how to build fire, how to catch fish with our teeth, and other essential survival skills. I would also like to have a medical doctor, preferably an experienced general practitioner, for obvious reasons.

And the third person I would like to have might be Martha Stewart, because if I'm going to be stranded indefinitely, at least between the two of us we'll be stranded in style.

As far as books... perhaps if there is a Desert Island for Dummies, that would be good. Or if not, then a field guide to equatorial plants and animals. Maybe a sketch book.

Mom: That's a good one--a lot of people said cookbooks and word search books.

Me: However, a cookbook is only good if you have pots and pans and an oven and a stove. And of course a set of spices.

A small farm.

Some livestock.

Mom: That's true--funny --they had them on Gilligan's Island--quit doing that--I can't type and laugh at the same time.

Me: Maybe a complete course in Italian or Polish or Russian or something. A word search would get boring after a while, and a crossword puzzle would just piss me off if I couldn't look stuff up on the Internet. So I figure I could learn another language.

Or if not a complete course in Italian, maybe a book on government so that I could establish my own system of government on the island and create a self-sustaining little country. Then, when we were finally discovered, as all self-sustaining little countries inevitably are, I would declare our sovereignty, bust out with the badass little military we've created for this sort of thing (if necessary), and become a member of the UN. Yeah-- scratch the complete course in Italian.

Mom: Sure, you could make up your own language.

Me: YEEESSSS! MAKE UP MY OWN LANGUAGE!

Mom: We also had to say what tool we would bring with us. Most people said a saw or matches.

Me: I agree with Keith that all you would need is a machete; that way you would have something for Keith or Martha to hunt with, something to carve wooden tools with, something for self-defense against crazy wild animals that want to gobble you up, something to crack open coconuts and other delicious fruits, a way to cut down trees, clear paths, etc.

Thank you, I feel very prepared now for when someone comes up to me and says, "you're about to be stranded on this desert island," I'll know who to call and what to buy before I go.

I didn't tell you Jen B asked if I would be willing to get ordained online so that I could marry her and Dave, did I?

Telepathic Nice-o-Gram

On the occasion that I witness an ordinary act of kindness, I often think “That was so very nice!” and wish that I could send a mental *HUG* to the Nice Person, and that they would sense the mental *HUG* and feel good knowing that a stranger they never saw or knew was watching, and will never cross paths with again, thinks that they are deserving of a mental *HUG* for niceness, or in technical terms, a Telepathic Nice-o-Gram.

And these go mainly for tiny, little, banal acts of kindness: for thinking of another’s feelings or comfort before one’s own. Like the drivers of big vehicles that don’t pull up all the way so that the driver of the little vehicle that was there first can see and turn out safely onto a busy road--or, as I have experienced, who realize they have blocked the little-car driver’s view and signal to them when the road is clear. Or those who, when stopped or nearly stopped, let another car turn out onto the road before them. Or tall people who notice a shorter person having trouble reaching an item at the back of a high shelf in the grocery store. Or the person that tells a joke or makes a funny comment or just gives a genuine smile and a sincere "Hi, how are you?" to the exhausted, frowny sales clerk. You've probably seen it too, or, if you are one of my friends, you've probably even done it. Things that generally go unnoticed, things that--to the Nice Person--just seem like a normal thing to do, think nothing of it. Well, take heart, Nice People, for I think very much of it.

Since we are plenty aware of not-niceness, and comment quite freely on what a nasty bitch that cashier was because she was unfriendly and didn't even say "hi" despite the fact that she's probably been standing on her feet for 8 hours listening to *boop!* *boop!* *boop!* so that she can pay for her 3-year-old son to eat every day on her minimum wage salary from a billion-dollar company that couldn't give a shit about her or her 3-year-old or even you the customer, as she deals with the People Who Believe Themselves To Be The Center Of The Universe racking up a bill totaling $178.24 even though all they went in for was gum and a bottle of shampoo, it hardly seems fair for genuine niceness to go unrewarded.

So to those Nice People who make room for amicability and thoughtfulness in their lives--which are just as busy and equally important as everyone else’s--I raise my glass overflowing with little joys to you and drink heartily in the humanity of your spirit. For you have just recieved a Telepathic Nice-o-Gram.