Future Entrepreneur

Parent Visit Day--Lockwood Girls High School in Nakuru, Kenya
July, 2007

We send care packages to Rosa as often as possible. But, while she is away at boarding school, it is difficult to get something to her since there is the chance that it could become lost or stolen. So I've discovered that mailing a card and/or envelope is a safer bet. Last Spring, I sent Rosa some stickers, thinking she could use them to decorate her textbooks.

When I had the chance to spend quality time with her in August, I asked her what she had done with the stickers I had sent. She informed me that she had been selling them to her classmates. I was not very happy with the fact that she was using my gift to make a profit. But then she continued. Rosa explained that she was saving the money to pay for her brother and sister's school fees (since they don't have the means to pay for tuition). Needless to say, I felt like a shmuck.

A few months ago I sent Rosa another fresh supply of stickers thinking she could make some more money to pay for Wycliffe's and Martha's school fees. Here is the e-mail I received from Rosa a couple of weeks ago:

Hi,

I am back for holiday and I will call you when I go to Hurlingham this weekend. I cannot call you from here because of the bad connection. I miss you and say hi to Casey. Thanks for the package and the stickers . I sold many of them and made 1200 shillings . I am also started on the business but people keep buying on credit so it has not grown yet . I am also selling shirts and my friends like them a lot. I go to the market and buy them for like 20 or 30 shillings and then I wash and iron them and then sell them for like 150 or 200 shillings, depending on how many people want it. I may as well do business after school.

Have a good day!

Love,
Rosa

Conversion Chart:
20 shillings=$0.50
150 shillings=$2.50
1200 shillings=$15.00

It won't be long before I have her begin to plan our retirement for us....

Conversations in the Car

I love my husband, but he can begin "talking" about the most boring topics.

Exhibit A...our conversation in the car last Sunday:

Casey (in a monotone voice with little/no expression): I got my new trail shoes in the mail the other day and tried them out. I ran along my usual path, but then I began running on the grass alongside the trail. I began running up and down the trenches. Every once in awhile I would run on the path again...but mostly on the grass. I heard there's a book out there that has a list of all the trails in Illinois. I think that would be a cool book. I think I'm going to get that book. Then I would know where all of the trails are and I could run them in my new trail shoes. It would be cool to just go running in the woods. I'm thinking that when the golf course closes for the season, I'm going to start running on the golf course...what do you think?

At this point, I turned to look at him and shouted:
I can't take it!!!! Please shut up! This is so boring!

We both broke out laughing, but I know this won't be our last "conversation" about trail running. When Casey gets excited about something, it tends to invade our everyday discussions. Right now, it's trail running.

I guess we all get a little obsessive sometimes, right?

Terrorist Threat

In the Spring of 2002, I flew to Arizona to visit my friend, Nicole. She had a plethora of frequent flyer miles, so she used them to get me a ticket. I had only been married over a year and my friend had unknowingly booked my ticket under my maiden name, "Karen Applehoff." When I stepped up to the airline counter at Midway Airport, the attendant informed me that she didn't have a ticket reserved under, "Karen Beckley." I quickly figured out the mistake Nicole had made. Luckily, I had my passport on me (which had my maiden name on it), so I was still able to catch my flight.

One week later...
Nicole dropped me off at the Phoenix Airport to catch my return flight. I checked my baggage and carried my backpack to the terminal. If you've ever flown Southwest Airlines, you know that you're not given a seat assignment. Instead, you're forced to stand in line. Seats are given first come, first serve.

I was standing in line waiting to board. I decided to rest and leaned against the glass wall behind me that looked out to the tarmac. The moment I rested, an incredibly loud alarm began to sound. Now, keep in mind this was a few months after the September 11th terrorist attacks. I instantly looked around to see if there was a safety threat in the area and quickly realized that everyone was staring at ME! I looked behind me and noticed that I had leaned on the emergency exit door.

It was amazing how quickly everyone turned on me. The airport and Phoenix city police instantly ran over to me and pulled me aside. At the same time, the airline began to board the plane. People walked right past me checking me out; and one woman even asked me if I was a terrorist!?!

The police asked to see my boarding pass and my identification. I had totally forgotten that the names didn't match. This did not work in my favor. After carefully explaining to them that I was harmless (and clueless), they let me go. At this time, the plane was waiting for me. Because I was the last to board, I ended up with the worst seat on the plane. I will never forget my "walk of shame" down the aisle. Everyone (I mean everyone) stared at me as I walked to the last row of seats in order to make sure I wasn't going to make any sudden moves. I overheard one person whisper, "That's the terrorist!"

I sat down and pulled my Pocket Yahtzee game from my backpack. The woman next to me watched to make sure it wasn't a bomb. She continued to stare at me for the next three hours.

It was a long flight.

Designer Cut

This is what today's conversation with my husband sounded like:

Casey: I got my haircut at Wal-Mart today by Pat.
Karen: Why did you go to Wal-Mart to get it cut?
Casey: I also needed an oil change.

Precious.

A Weekend in Chicago

My mom's 60th birthday was last Friday. Realizing that nothing had been planned for that day, my sister and I decided to take my mom out for dinner. As the week progressed, plans evolved and my Aunt Paula decided to join us. I decided to research performances downtown, knowing that we all enjoy the theater. I found a play called, "The Book of Liz." Here is the synopsis taken from their website:

This comic play, penned by David and Amy Sedaris, follows the adventures of a female cheeseball-making expert with a sweating problem who escapes a religious community and finds work at a family restaurant run by recovering alcoholics.

Any play that revolves around a woman with a sweating problem is worth seeing. I looked at many of the reviews and critics claimed we would be on the floor laughing. And the icing on the cake...tickets were only $15. I couldn't wait!

After taking the train into the city and eating dinner (quickly), we arrived at the Cornservatory, a small, hole-in-the-wall-type theater on the Northside. There were only sixty seats and we arrived late, so everyone watched as we took our seats. There were three seats together in the back row and only one in the very front. My sister volunteered to sit in the front row by herself.

Midway through the play, we realized that it was a bomb. My mom turned to me and whispered, "I'm not following the storyline. Am I looking too deep?" At which point, I burst out laughing. I looked over at my aunt who, apparently, was sleeping. We began giggling and took several minutes to control our laugh attacks. I think we had a total of four.

My poor sister missed out on all of our fun and shared with us later that she felt obligated to laugh at the "funny parts" since the actors were looking right at her. Needless to say, my mom's 60th birthday was memorable, but really a disappointment.

In the photo below, you will see a picture of me with the cheeseball in the background (look very closely). The second photo is of an actress dressed in a Mr. Peanut costume.
Yep, that's right...A Mr. Peanut costume.
Do not ask me how this fit into the story, but I almost wet my pants when it came on stage.

The next day, my mom wanted to redeem our horrible evening by attempting to get tickets to one of her favorite musicals, "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee." It was ending its run in Chicago last weekend and she had already seen it twice. Since tickets were about $80 a piece, we decided that if we could get discounted tickets we would give it a try. We boarded the train (again) and arrived at the theater several hours before the curtain call. We entered our names in a drawing to win $25 tickets (2 max./winner). The three of us each entered our information thinking it would increase our odds. We were asked to return to the theater lobby at 6:00 pm for the drawing. Winners must be present to win.

We killed some time in the Loop. When we returned to the theater at 6:00, we noticed that we were the only people who had shown up. The theater manager approached us, smirked, and said with an effeminate voice, "Well, it looks as if this will be easy."

He continued to go through the entire spiel, "Should your name be chosen at random, you will have an opportunity to purchase up to two tickets for $25 each. Blah, blah, blah, blah." We crossed our fingers and hoped for the best.

He pulled out the first entry. In a loud and clear voice, he said, "Sarah Conroy? Is there a Sarah Conroy here?"

"That's me!" My sister began to jump up and down. He then asked, "Sarah, would you like to purchase one or two tickets?"

And then my sister said something SO profound, I'll never forget it...
"I'll take two...just in case."

As if our names wouldn't be drawn.

He pulled out the second entry. "Karen Beckley? Karen Beckley?" "Yahoo!!!" I couldn't believe it! I never win anything!

He then asked me, "Karen, would you like to purchase one or two tickets?" I told him I'd take one...since Sarah had already covered my mom.

William (the theater manager) looked at my mom. "Would you like me to draw your name, ma'am?"

"No, that's all right. There's really no need since I already have a ticket," she explained. Apparently, he was required to pull her name from the bin anyway.

"Diane Applehoff? Diane Applehoff, would you like your discounted ticket? No? People, let it be known that Diane Applehoff has declined her ticket."

Although the play itself was hilarious, we found the raffle in the lobby beforehand to be more entertaining!

Here is a photo of Sarah crossing her fingers before the drawing....

...and then trying to break into the secured entry box.

Tears on a Plane

So, I recently flew home from Kenya. It takes 24 hours from Nairobi to Chicago, so needless to say I always dread my flights abroad...especially when I'm flying them alone. One of the great features is the individual television screen that offers a large selection of new release movies and television shows.

I had completed the first leg of my return flight (Nairobi to London). After a 7-hour layover in the London Heathrow Airport, I boarded my second flight home to O'Hare. The flights home are difficult for me for many reasons:
1) The change in time zones really throws my body out of whack. I'm completely exhausted and it is difficult to sleep sitting upright.
2) Flying makes me cranky. It is so hard to sit in one place for so long.
3) I've just said goodbye to Rosa (again) and my mind begins to wander back to last July and the failed adoption.

Needless to say, I look forward to watching several movies to get my mind off of these things.

I found my seat...in the bulkhead...in the aisle. Perfect. I would have plenty of room to move. The flight attendants eventually began their familiar spiel on nearest exits, flotation devices, yada...yada...yada. Most of these procedures were demonstrated on our personalized television screens. Mine suddenly went blank.

I informed the flight attendant of my malfunctioning screen before take-off and he said he'd take care of it right away. The head flight attendant reset the entire screen, but still no luck. He tried again. Nothing.

Two hours later, the head flight attendant came by. He explained that they had tried everything and, for some reason, I had a dysfunctional system. He apologized and offered me some magazines.

Within seconds of him walking away, uncontrollable tears fell from my eyes. I wasn't even really sure why I was crying, but I figured it had to be because this was "the straw that broke the camel's back." I wanted to keep my mind off things and now I had 8 1/2 hours of sitting and thinking ahead of me. Complete torture.

My flight attendant approached me and asked if someone had been by to explain what had happened. I nodded my head and said, "I understand. It is difficult to have any control over technological problems." He asked, "Are you crying? Are you all right?"

Oh my gosh. I was so embarrassed. "Follow me." I wasn't sure where I was supposed to go, but I thoughtlessly followed my new friend to the galley of the plane. He unfolded his special flight attendant seat and directed me to sit down. "Now, what can I get you? Chocolate? Coffee? Tea? How about a bottle of water?" I declined his offer, but I was given water anyway. He sat down next to me and asked, "Tell me what's wrong. Is it the television? I'm so sorry about that!"

The tears started flowing! Have you ever cried and wanted to stop so badly, but you weren't able to? I explained to him how I had left my daughter in Nairobi. He asked all about her and told me of his frequent flights to Nairobi, hoping that would offer me some peace. "My name is Arwon. If you need anything, let me know!"

I returned to my seat and attempted to look at borrowed fashion magazines for the next eight hours. Arwon continually checked on me to make sure I was OK (and not crying). It was nice to know I had someone looking out for me with a shoulder to cry on...literally!

Sinks Road

When we were still dating, Casey and I decided to drive cross-country. My best friend needed someone to go with her as she drove her car back to Phoenix. Casey and I figured it was a great opportunity to see the country and see if we could stand being around one another for an extended period of time.

We decided that our first stop would be Lake of the Ozarks, where Casey's grandparents lived. We would spend the day tubing and water skiing at their lake house. Before arriving at the Ozarks, however, we had to make a vital stop in Florrisant (a suburb of St. Louis).

Casey grew up in Florrisant. I was often told about his warm memories growing up in his childhood home on Sinks Road. The road was called, "Sinks Road" because it was paved around giant sink holes that had formed in the ground.

His family lived on a large piece of property and Casey would tell me about how it would take him and his brother 3 days to mow the lawn. Or how he and his brother would build forts in the surrounding woods.

I knew it was important for me to see this place that had held such a special place in his heart....

As we drove along Sinks Road, it was almost as if Casey were a young boy again. He couldn't sit still knowing that it had been at least ten years since he had been there. I was wondering what we would tell the new tenants when they saw us trespassing on their property, but apparently Casey wasn't too concerned.

We rounded the curve and pulled into his driveway. It was surrounded by overgrown weeds. Whoever lived here, obviously wasn't taking good care of the property. His driveway was long and we continued on until we reached the house.

I watched Casey's expression, kind of like when you watch a groom's reaction as the bride walks down the aisle in her wedding dress. Casey looked as if he were going to cry....and these were not tears of joy.

The house was gone.

Nicole and I looked at each other. We didn't know what to do. Then suddenly, I burst out laughing. "Where's your house?" I asked him.

"I don't know." He sounded six years old again. He slowly got out of the car and began walking the property with a confused look on his face. We followed. A few minutes later, Casey began giving us a "tour" of the house.

"This is where the living room was."

"This is where our pool was."

I didn't know what to say. So, I suggested taking a photo of him in front of the house. What else could we do?

Here's that photo....I think he's standing in the kitchen.