Hmm… a post that's not about biking, horses, or random stuff on Craigslist!

Lately I've been feeling really frustrated… mentally/socially/work-wise/etc. I feel like my life has stalled, and I'm going nowhere. My motto is, "Do what's right, not what's easy." In essence, I try my damnedest to be a good person. It seems that whatever I do, it's never enough, and I end up disappointed.

I'm not trying to be negative, but I'm really frustrated. I try to reach out to help and make other peoples' lives better. Whether it be holding the elevator door so the elderly woman shuffling toward it won't have to wait 10 minutes for it to return, or just giving up my entire weekend to sit out in the sun and volunteer at a horse event… I don't mind. If I see trash on the ground, I pick it up and throw it out. Simple stuff like that. I enjoy feeling like I've made a difference somewhere, somehow.

"Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible." -Dalai Lama

But at the same time, I'm disheartened because when I try to reach out and be friendly to someone/make new friends, I get nothing in return. No acknowledgment, no consideration, merely a brushoff because really, who needs to be friends with a slightly dorky (albeit caring and genuine) person? I'm a nice person, but I will finish last. (Probably because I was too busy helping everyone else who's fallen down, needed their photo taken at the last mile marker, etc. ) Then I wonder where everyone went, and why I wasn't invited.

I want to be successful, I want good things to happen to me, I want to be happy.

I'm just trying to be a better person. My name is Kendall.

*Yes, I borrow that phrase from Earl.

After spending most of my Saturday morning/afternoon scrubbing the bathroom (since my male roommates seem to be allergic to Comet and scrub brushes… "Comet, it makes your mouth turn green… Comet, it tastes like Listerine…"), I headed over to the Tidal Basin with my roommate Eileen to participate in the Crohn's & Colitis Foundation of America Take Steps walk. The theme of the walk was "Make Noise!" — to not only help raise funds for research, but raise awareness for these little-known diseases.

Doing the walk was pretty inspiring. There were a ton of participants… basically every age, gender, species (yes, dogs were included) walked the two miles around the Basin. What was so inspiring was seeing all the family members and friends of those who were supporting a family member or friend with Crohn's/colitis. Most had formed teams, and had names such as "Stolen Colon," "The Crohn Rangers," "No Guts, but all the Glory," etc.

One of the more memorable teams was "Walt's Rockets." Their leader is Walt, who is seven years old and has Crohn's. Walt was one of the honored heroes at the walk — his team had 38 people walking, and so far they've raised $2,481. He said he picked rockets as his team symbol because rockets are fast, and he wants to find a cure fast. (Walt's team last year was "Walt's Cheetahs.")

I don't blame Walt for wanting to find a cure quickly. Crohn's is a devastating disease, and having seen the effects it's had on my own sister, I would do anything to get rid of it. To see Walt, who is only seven (and obviously has had Crohn's for over a year) bear this burden really struck a chord. It's not fair to him. There's no reason why he should have to deal with the countless blood tests, trips to the doctor, and explaining to his friends why he has to use the bathroom frequently. But unfortunately, it's a reality for him and 1.4 million other people.

Crohn's isn't easy to explain to people, and it's certainly not for the squeamish when divulging its details. For that reason, I respected my sister's wishes and kept my sister's condition quiet throughout grade school. She didn't want everyone to know WHY her face was all puffy from the super high doses of prednisone, why she had to miss summer camp because she was in the hospital… I felt it was the least I could do. Not to say that I was the best sister in the world and understood why she could be happy one day and so horrifically cranky the next… because I really didn't get it. Despite the change in diet and the seemingly thousands of pills she had to take every day, life was a rollercoaster of emotions and frustration for all of us.

Looking back, I feel really selfish. I can't sufficiently say I understand what people with Crohn's are going through, because I don't. I'm fortunate enough to not have this disease, and I will never know what it's like. But I feel like could have been more supportive in those early years. If there's one thing I truly regret, it's not being there for her enough (or, in some cases, leaving her alone) for the times when she needed it the most.

And for kids like Walt, I sure hope his friends are mature enough to realize that he needs their support, even if it's just acknowledging that even though he's a little different from them on the inside, he's still a great person on the outside.

That being said… Walt's team is looking to raise $3,000, and they're still a little over $500 short of their goal. It's not too late to donate, so please consider doing so.

After Thursday's not-so-conducive-to-back-comfort ride, I realized part of my stiff back and tiredness problems lie with my bed. (Or would that be IN my bed?) I mean, not that I'm lonely or anything (Sparkey the stuffed dog takes up the other half very well), but I swear I'm not getting enough quality sleep… and thus need more quantity to make up for it.

Quick hop on over to Consumer Reports reveals no ratings (which makes sense - ratings would depend on personal preference and all), but the "Do you need a new mattress?" section reaffirmed my decision that my existing slab of IKEA foam was not working out:

• You wake up tired or achy. - check.
• You tend to sleep better at hotels than at home. - to think about it, yes! I do sleep way better in hotels, and it's not just the mints on the pillows at night, either.
• Your mattress looks saggy or lumpy. - No, but I did buy it used off Craigslist. I know, I'm cheap.

New mattress it is, then!

Any excuse to go to IKEA (a.k.a. the holy land) is a good one, so I drove up to College Park this morning and steeled myself for the weekend crowds. In reality, it wasn't too bad, but I swear, they need to have leash laws for kids. Despite my research and testing of mattresses, none really stood out. Maybe it's me, but they all seemed rock hard and not comfortable at all. Plus, their rating system for firmness seemed really weird - the softest one, to me, was rated as "firm." However, it was $800, and if I'm going to spend that much on a bed, it better make itself and change its own sheets. (Kidding.)

So, no luck at IKEA. The trip wasn't a huge bust, though - I picked up some "food savers" (e.g., Rubbermaid containers), and of course, a bar of the best chocolate in the WORLD!

Delicious.

Squoils = Squirrels, in particular Sciurus carolinensis (Eastern Grey Squirrel).

You know, those rodent like creatures that have fuzzy tails and dart in front of cars? Yeah, those guys. Squirrel issues have plagued my family for years. Example #1. Dad is now up to "Squirrel War XII," which is the never-ending battle of the squirrels trying to overtake his bird feeders. I think my family has gone through 30+ feeders, half of them jerry-rigged by Commander Dad to prevent the squirrels from stealing the birdseed. He even went as far as setting up one to deliver an electric shock if the squirrel sat on it. The squirrels then got smart and realized they could hang upside down from the pergola and eat the seed without touching the feeder.

Example #2. My sister once found a baby squirrel that had fallen out of its nest by the side of the road. Despite the fact he was crawling with fleas, he was actually really cute. We named him Miles. Poor, scared little Miles ended up getting rehomed with the Audubon center a few hours later, as Mom was NOT going to let us have a pet squirrel.

Example #3. While spending my short-lived semester at Mary Washington College, a squirrel (we named him Nutley - very creative) made his home on a tree branch squished next to my door room window. Normally that was OK, but he was a loud little guy and was trying to make Nutlets with his wife, so we ended up having to call maintenance to remove the branch.

Example #4. This photo is somewhat famous, as it made the Mary Washington campus newspaper and was subsequently posted on the newsroom wall. It's actually a great shot, I have no idea how I was able to get the depth of field thing going there, but I think having a subject that freezes in place helped.

My most recent encounter with squirrels involved my house. (Thanks to these guys, I almost broke my 21 year record of not peeing my pants when I found out firsthand they lived in the detached garage.) Anyway, the other day I went up to the attic to get something from my suitcase. I unzipped one of the outer pockets, and imagine my surprise when I found a small, neat pile of ACORNS sitting in there. I didn't know whether to scream or laugh. Either way, it was concrete evidence that there our friends are actually sharing this residence with us. Needless to say, the owner of those acorns is not going to be happy when he finds out his secret hiding place has been depleted of its stash and is now fully zipped shut.

(Of course, one of my roommates says, "You didn't LEAVE them there?! Now he's going to be hungry!")

For those of you (meaning, uh, two readers) who don't know me very well, I'm pretty good in the Denial Department of life… a.k.a., sailing down DeNile. My dear Subaru Impreza is a good source of prompting those sailing expeditions, as it's getting up there in years and I am NOT ready for it to die.

This weekend it finally got above 45 and I decided to wash my car. My original project was to install the remote starter, but after realizing the "easy to install!" claim on the package was really written in Opposite language, I decided to kill that idea. So, my car finally got a much-needed bath, as it still had a good dosing of salt all over it from our last "snowstorm" a few weeks ago.

Unfortunately for me, doing so forced me to take a good look at how well the body is REALLY holding up after 15 years. As a whole, it's not too bad, but when I took a closer look at some spots, I went . As I've mentioned, northern Virginia has no idea how to deal with snow. So therefore, they dump a crapload of salt all over the roads whenever there's evidence of a single flake falling from the sky. Salt + exposed metal = rust. There's a spot where the rear wheel arch meets the rocker panel that's really bad… to the point of where I was using my fingers and literally breaking off chunks of rust from under the rubber seal. Basically, both lower rocker panels are starting to show signs of rust… not cool. Fortunately, it's not immediately obvious unless you are 8" tall.

Anyway, I cleaned up the car best I could, applied Permatex to the scary parts (fortunately, there's only one that's actually visible from eye level - Bondo and I will be spending some quality time together when the weather warms up), and tried to shove the image of my car slowly eroding from my mind… a.k.a. Denialand.

The next day, I started up the car and thought, "Hey… this isn't idling quite right." I look behind me to see a nice plume of blue smoke coming from the exhaust… awesome. Evidence of the car burning oil only happens once in awhile during really cold weather and only a tiny puff of smoke will appear… but this was a [now defunct] family turbodiesel Volvo-worthy cloud. Gross.

So, of course, I attribute the sudden smoke cloud from having parked on a slight decline overnight. Otherwise the car is fine… just dying a slow death from the inside out.

To make matters worse, Dad continually reminds me that I will eventually need to replace my Soobie and that I should probably actually start thinking of what to buy as a replacement. He's pretty good at throwing down the anchor from my DeNile sailboat. :finger: