Apprenticeship Training

I am a member of several online forums, but I hardly sign in to check messages. I signed in to one this afternoon and saw the notification for an unread message. Upon inspection of the message, it was entirely in a form of Cryllic text.
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Сколько ни прогоняй грустные размышления, а они всё равно тебя достанут. Я в очередной раз раздумывала о том, что в моей судьбе не достаёт эмоций, сочных красок, хороших новостей. А, возможно, нужно хоть что-то сделать, чтобы внести изменения в такую обстановку? Например, куда-либо сходить с друзьями. Определить, в конце концов, за какую цену можно сбыть старенькую машину и приобрести более новую. Отослать резюме и сменить надоевшую работу. Следовательно, мне требуется различная информация о нашем Житомире. Выбрать достойный информативный сайт города оказалось нетрудно.

олевский янтарь

Заинтересовавшись событиями города, я даже запамятовала, зачем заходила. Как оказалось, у нас в развлекательном центре вскоре открытие выставки, премьерный показ мелодрамы,а я раздумывала, куда же новенький пуловер одеть! А тут и перерыв на работе истёк. Засияло солнышко, и реальность перестала казаться настолько бесцветной. Тем более, что я таки составила и отослала личное резюме. Да и одна работа меня уже привлекла. Правильно считается, важные изменения стартуют с незначительных усилий.
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Normally I'd just delete such spammery, but this time I was intrigued enough to investigate. I tossed the text into Google Translate and it came out with the following:

[Detected language: Russian]

No matter how much banishes sad reflections, and they still would get you. I once again wondered about that in my life lacks emotions, rich colors, good news. And, you may need at least do something to make a change in this situation? For example, somewhere to go with friends. Determine, in the end, at what price can sell an old car and buy a new one. Send resume and replace the boring work. Therefore, I need different information about this Zhitomir. Choose a worthy informative site of the city was easy.

Olevskii amber

Intrigued by the events of the city, I even have forgotten why sign up. As it turned out, in our entertainment center soon opened an exhibition premiere of melodrama, and I was thinking, where is a brand new sweater dress! A break here and at work has expired. The sun shone, and the reality is no longer seem so colorless. Especially because I was still private and sent the resume. And one work has already attracted me. Properly considered, important changes start with little effort.

Now I'm just intrigued even more. Whoever you are, dear Forum Note Sender, I hope you get yourself a brand new sweater dress.

[Insert Eye-Catching Yet Informative Title Here]

"Your friends are sending me some pictures of our skydive. It was amazing; you shoulda been there."

I said to Heather, the sales rep that hooked me up with the skydiving trip. 

Heather laughed, "I know! I couldn't make it because I went to a wedding instead. My friends sent a few photos to me while I was at the wedding. But I'm planning to go skydiving next year. Wanna go again?"

I paused. 

"Yes!" 

My hesitation was because I decided I need to start saving up for skydiving.

Shelby walked into the shop, heard two words, and said "Skydiving?"

Heather asked, "Are you interested in going too?"

"Sure. I need to save some money to go, though." He replied. 

Shane burst through the shop door, nose twitching. Without hearing a word of our conversation, he turned and said, "Skydiving!" 

Heather laughed and said "Would you like to go along with

"YES." Shane interrupted.  

Cue song: "It's Rainin' Men."

November has been a busy month. Once I have a spare moment to collect my thoughts, I'll tell you all about the wedding, the funeral, the road trip, the deer collision, and the other road trip to the other wedding. With the way things have been scheduled, I'll have some spare time to blog in April 2016. 

For those of you that take time to read my oft-neglected blog, thanks. I appreciate that. 

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! 

Adrenaline Junkie

Yesterday I fell out of an airplane.
While it was flying.
On purpose.
I've got the story and the documentation to prove it.

It started a few months ago when I discovered that Heather, a sales rep that works with our business, has a pilot's license and several jumps under her belt.

Full disclosure: it actually started 21 years ago when I learned how to ride a bicycle, and therefore began to speed on things with wheels.

I asked Heather to let me know when the next jump would be happening. A month ago, she informed me that some of her friends were getting a group together to skydive. "Are you still interested?" She asked me. "Ab. So. Lutely." I replied.

I was contacted by Heather's friend Kathy, one of the jumpers. Over the phone, she sounded completely thrilled that I was joining. Perhaps because my interest confirmed that there were other humans as crazy as herself. The fact that I made the group large enough to get a discounted rate was a bonus. Kathy informed me that "Kathy, spelled with a C" was in charge of the group. I talked with Cathy and found her to be just as exuberant about skydiving as Kathy was. Cathy informed me that I could bring along a friend if I wanted, so I set out to find someone as wantonly reckless as myself.

My friend Anne has been laboring away at the University of Iowa for quite some time, and I determined that she could use a break from her studies. What better way to relax than to get thrown out of an airplane? I imagine there are various alternative activities you would recommend, dear reader, but then you're most likely not a Graber. I asked Anne if she wanted to join, and she replied, "I would totally go but I should perhaps converse with my parents. They might be concerned for my safety." An excellent course of action, and one that I deliberately avoided because my parents are always concerned for my safety, so why bother them with additional worries?

You'd never suspect that Anne is a borderline 

maniac, but then you'd be wrong.

Gun Buyback

Firearms are a sticky subject nowadays and I understand if you don't like firearms. I receive shivers in the presence of ceramic clowns, so I know that inanimate objects can make one feel uncomfortable.

Terribly uncomfortable.

For many years, cities all over the United States have offered Gun Buyback programs where your surrendered firearm will earn you a gift card for fuel or groceries. These buybacks, hosted by police stations, have become more frequent since the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary and the theater in Aurora, Colorado. The premise is that if there are less guns on the street, there will be less robbery and homicide. For many, the idea seems brilliant. "Less guns = less crime and sadness!" They proclaim.

In 2012 (the year of the Sandy Hook shooting), there were 625 murders committed with shotguns and rifles.
That's a lot.

In 2012, there were 1,196 murders committed with hammers and fists.
That's a lot.

As a Christian, I understand that man's thoughts are wicked, and without the redemption of Jesus Christ, people will do terrible things to other people. They'll just keep on doing those terrible things with whatever tool or object they have at hand. Uh, pun not intended.

As a Graber, I understand that guns can be used for harm, but they are tools. No more, no less. Like a golf club or a baseball bat or a screwdriver or one of those teeny little brushes that puts on mascara. Guns used properly (I am reluctant to use the word "recreationally" because that makes guns sound like marijuana) can be a whole lot of fun.

Where was I? Oh yes, gun buybacks. Bring all your unwanted firearms and ammunition to the police station, and exchange them for some gift cards******!
*Ammunition will be accepted for surrender, but will not qualify for a gift card.
**One gift card per person, regardless of the amount of firearms surrendered.
***The surrendered firearms cannot have been previously stolen.

A Miracle in the Shape of a Guitar

This morning, I pulled my head up out of the sand and realized how long it has been since I've spoken to you, dear readers.

I'd love to tell you all about the things that I've been up to.

I'd love to tell you about the events that have caused this Summer to whip by like a turbo-charged carousel.

But I can't right now. I don't quite have the words for it all. Wording is important to me; I often scrap entire paragraphs and even full posts if they don't meet my standards.

I suppose that explains my extended hiatus from blogging...I haven't been able to find the words to say.

Momentary Logic could be categorized as "Humorous, anecdotal". I enjoy getting my readers to grin. So when difficult things come along, I refrain from blogging. I dislike reading posts filled with whining and complaining and pitiful pleas for attention, so why would I want to write one? 

So when faced with the most stretching, difficult few months of my life, I've been rendered speechless.

Yet God.

Yet God has been faithful and kind and loving. He daily reminds me of His presence and His promises, and I cannot let those miracles, those blessings, go unspoken.

A few months ago I posted about the possessions I lost due to theft. One of them was my brand-new Breedlove guitar.

Left: My 7-year-old trusty little Fender.
Right: My one-week old Breedlove, just before it was stolen

"That was YOUR guitar, God. I used it for praise and worship and sometimes impressing ladies. If You want me to have a guitar, You'll have to provide one." I ranted. I went back to using my trusty blue Fender, which had begun to chip and peel and show signs of abuse only years of clumsiness and campfires can incur.

Scavenger Hunt

Last night, our youth group leaders staged a scavenger hunt. We were told to bring along a smartphone or other video-recording device in order to record our progress, since this was not the type of scavenger hunt where you would bring your findings back to the church. The youth group was split into four teams and each team was given a list of objectives. The youth leaders gathered us together and issued a few basic ground rules.
We had until 8pm to complete as many of the objectives as possible, along with the bonus objectives. (It was approximately 6:20pm, so we had an hour and 40 minutes.)
The first team to return would get a bonus, the last team to return would get docked.
Be respectful, but have lots of fun!
For the team that returns to the church first and hands their camera in: (+2)
For the team that returns to the church last and hands their camera in: (-2)
To the best business advertisement (voted by Youth Leaders): (+2)
If one of your teammates cannot be seen in any of the videos: (-5)

After the objectives were explained and clarified, the teams were given $5 and a roll of toilet paper, and then sent out into the unsuspecting Kalona area. I was the leader of team #1, and my teammates were Jonathan, Emily, Rochelle, and Logan.

Emily and Rochelle. Emily is displaying
our team number and overall status in life.

Jonathan.

Logan.

1. Start with a short intro to your video!
Our team didn't see this step until near the end of our scavenger hunt, so we ended up making our intro video at the end. We introduced ourselves by name and exemplified complete humility and modesty: "Hello. We're team #1. Thanks for coming along with us today, we're about to win."

Side note: I will be listing the objectives in the order that we completed them, not in the order they were given.
Side side note: The photos in this post are screenshots from the videos we took, since videos are bandwidth hogs.

A Wedding in Maryland

"We'll just run down to the old abandoned church and back. Should be about 1, 1.2 miles there, so we're looking at 2.4 miles, round trip." Trent said.

For years as we grew up, I affectionately referred to my cousin Trent as "Chub Roll". His brother Kyle and I were the fearless champions of all things good, whereas our younger brothers Shelby and Trent were the portly faces of all things evil. When we'd play war games,  Kyle and I were always the brave and true Americans, Trent and Shelby were the scheming Germans. 

But recently Trent has jumped onto the Fitness Train. He developed a taste for weight-lifting and exercise when he joined the National Guard. When he finished Basic, he returned 35 lbs lighter and with a gleam for fitness twinkling in his eye. 

I had joined a van load of Graber cousins and relatives and traveled into the mountains of Maryland for my cousin Melanie's wedding. We had arrived Thursday evening at a pristine chateau hidden back in the woods where we'd be rooming for the weekend. After less than an hour from our arrival, Trent decided it was high time we went on a run. After all, we had been on the road for 15 hours and our legs needed to stretch! He exclaimed.

I wasn't against the idea. Back at home, I occasionally go on runs. I have a route that I run that is 0.7 miles one way; 1.4 miles round-trip. Two miles would be a stretch, but I was up for the challenge. The weather was incredible. The sun had just set, it was around 71 degrees, and there was a slight breeze wafting through the pines. After stretching and limbering up, Trent and I took off down the smooth blacktop road. We hauled along at a decent pace, but it still took 11 minutes to get to the old church. We took a short break and did some push ups before heading back. "I'm feeling great!" Trent said. "My legs feel better now than when we started." I wasn't feeling too awful just yet, but my right leg was cramping so we took some time to stretch before resuming our run. On the return trip, I began to doubt we were going "only" two miles. The moonlit road seemed to stretch out before my eyes, doubling the distance between me and the sweet, sweet pond back at the cabin. My lungs began to burn, and I was acutely aware that I was running at 1,726 feet above sea level higher than I run at home. Trent calmly provided encouragement and advice as I wheezed like a locomotive with a siezed piston. "Use those long legs to lengthen your stride. It'll save you energy." "Inhale for two steps, exhale for two steps. Short breaths not only rob you of oxygen, but they rob you of energy." "You've got good form with your arms as you run. I had a friend that ran with his arms clenched at the chest. Very inefficient."

We ran back down the lane to the cabin, and it had taken us 15 minutes to make the return trip. My initial oxygen-deprived plan of action was to jump into the pond immediately and drink a few quarts of pond water. Trent cautioned that I should probably stretch and walk for a little bit, just so I don't cramp up and drown. He also mentioned that I should probably drink some water before going into the pond, lest I get tempted to drink questionable pond water. I thought nothing of Trent's mind-reading prowess at the time, but marveled at it later when I had regained my sanity.  I took his advice, meanwhile hoping that we had run more than two miles. Otherwise, I was seriously out of shape. "I miscalculated that distance. It was probably a mile and a half to the church, so we just ran 3 miles." Trent mused. THREE MILES! AN IMPROMPTU 5k?! A warm feeling of accomplishment accompanied the warm feeling of my leg muscles tightening up like banjo strings. After an extended period of flopping around like a wounded groundhog stretching, I took a relaxing dip in the pond. A mist was rising off the surface and the water felt refreshingly cool, but not icy cold like I had expected.

On Friday morning, my uncle Corby showed up with his four-wheeler and told us we could drive it around and explore if we'd like.

 "Careful," Grandpa cautioned "That thing can get up to 75 mph!" I wasn't about to let that claim go unverified, so I whipped the four-wheeler up to a face-blistering 70 mph before I ran out of straight road. I traced the route Trent and I had run the prior evening and used the odometer on the four-wheeler to see just how far we had run. Four miles. FOUR STANKIN' MILES. And we ran it in 26 minutes, or 6.5 minutes a mile. The only thing that prevented me from being completely tickled about the discovery was the dull ache in my legs. The trip by ATV was considerably shorter (it took me roughly 4 minutes) and far more pleasant, despite having various bugs assault my face at high speeds. I have determined that the Good Lord provided trusty four-wheelers to save us from unnecessary leg pains.

We spent the afternoon helping set up the outdoor reception for my cousin Melanie's wedding. Grandma Ruth bustled around helping with chairs and decorations and then jumped on a swing set. Seriously, I hope to grow up just like her someday. :) 

The wedding on Friday was splendid. The ceremony was elegant and simple, (which seems to be the wedding theme this decade) but it was also unique and charming. The pastor told a story about a man who bought his bride for eight cows to make her feel special. I found the tale to be extra pertinent because Nathan, the groom, works on a family dairy farm. His family had butchered a cow for the reception meal, so I determined that Melanie was bought for one cow, or thereabouts.

At the reception we were fed inordinate amounts of food. A massive meal, followed by chocolate shakes, cake, ice cream, tasty wafer straw things, and cheesecake pops. It was painfully delicious. 

I've been to a few weddings lately and I always remember to take photos of things after the wedding is over. This time, I remembered to snap a photo of the bride and groom. 

Melanie paused from making sure everyone received a cheesecake pop to take a photo. She's the best. 

We threw bird seed as Nathan and Melanie left. There was a considerable pile of seed on the church parking lot once we were finished. My cousin Ryan and I determined to return with firearms the following day to snipe crows. A whole murder of crows, because that's what a group of crows are called. 

Back at the cabin, my cousin Whitney kept ramming into the screen door. So grandma disappeared for a moment and came out with these: 

Grandma couldn't find scotch tape so she grabbed a few band aids to work as helpful warning signs. 

Aunt Jana, Whitney's mom, added to the notes when no one was looking. 

And we all laughed about it for the rest of the weekend. 

[Side note: all of you should buy my Aunt Jana's hilarious book, entitled "One of Those Days". It's a compilation of some of her "Mommy Diaries" articles and they're expertly, humorously written. Those of you who are allergic to comedic wit should probably steer clear of this book.]

On Saturday morning I received a text from Dad informing me that Mom was in the hospital due to carbon monoxide poisoning. She had been power washing out the basement with a gas engine pressure washer and felt extremely sick a few hours later. Dad ran her to the hospital and she quickly improved. We spent a lot of time praying for her and we were grateful when the doctor released her Saturday afternoon. 

Aunt Kris fed us a monstrous brunch on Saturday morning. Moments after finishing the wedding meal, I had declared I would no longer need food for July. But the brunch caused me to completely forget my declaration and I ate waffles and cereal and fruit like I had just stepped off the Mayflower with nothing but sawdust and shoe leather. 

After brunch, Ryan and I grabbed a .22 rifle, a BB gun, ammunition, and raced to the church to slay some birds of prey. We arrived to discover two chubby crows gorging on the piles of bird seed. We whipped into firing range with a whoop and the crows lazily flew into the nearby woods. So we set up a stakeout and waited for them to return. After fifteen minutes waiting on the birds, we left. Perhaps the crows were full. Perhaps they were extremely cautious. Or perhaps it was because Ryan and I were talking and laughing loud enough to alert all woodland creatures in the state of Maryland. We returned to the cabin to blast a few squirrels that had been chewing through the window screens. We searched in vain but found no squirrels. (Later, after we had put our guns away, a squirrel ran up Aunt Jana's leg, just to mock us.) Uncle Corby spied the bloodthirsty glint in our eyes and told us to flush some pigeons out of the barn and shoot them with a shotgun. We flushed them out, but I managed to miss all three pigeons that flew past me. Even though we were unable to procure the heap of vermin carcasses we wanted, we still had an enjoyable jaunt. 

Ryan took Shelby and I down to the Mennonite Historical Archives to photograph some articles for his research in the history of the Mennonites. We learned all sorts of interesting things about our Menno history, including some history of our hometown, Kalona. 

I read articles on church divisions and strife that sounded eerily similar to what our churches are currently going through, except with the issues of the 1850's, like bundling. 

The rest of the cousins and relatives went to visit Swallow Falls while Ryan and Shelby and I dug into historical files and records. Iowa is beautiful but it lacks waterfalls, so I had hoped to go see some while in Maryland. It all worked out nicely though; Ryan, Shelby and I returned to the cabin and I had a relaxing afternoon catching up on some reading. 

Saturday evening we had a wonderful potluck with Grabers and Mausts; both sides of Aunt Kris's family. We gathered in a large open pavilion just down the hill from the cabin. Scarily large quantities of food were consumed amid the joyful din of a hundred conversations. I watched one of Kris' relatives fly his fancy quad-copter around the campground. The quad-copter was equipped with a camera that captured incredible birds'-eye views of the surrounding area. The relative (I dearly wish I could remember his name, because he was very pleasant) had used the quad-copter previously at the wedding reception to get footage of the guests eating outside. While the quad-copter recorded footage from above the campground, several rounds of Spike Ball and sand volleyball were staged. Many of the youth jumped enthusiastically into the games while the rest of us sensible humans laid around the picnic tables like beached whales. I strongly believe in a 4-hour mandatory waiting period between a potluck and vigorous exercise. I nearly broke this very policy by joining a game of Spoons.  Fortunately, I was eliminated before the group decided that snatching a spoon off the table wasn't exerting enough. They decided to hide the spoons in the moonlit yard and run for them once someone had gotten four-of-a-kind. 

After the festivities died down, we packed up our belongings and prepared for the return trip. We all piled into the van at 4am on Sunday morning and arrived back in Iowa Sunday afternoon. We averaged 70mph, thanks to the plethora of Graber feet stepping on the accelerator. 

Adventures like this one are all kinds of fun. A road trip with close relatives to visit more close relatives, a fairly laid-back weekend in a beautiful forest cabin, attending a wedding, and eating far too much food. I've truly been blessed with the family God has placed me in.