Update: Week 3&4 – Welcome to wherever you are

So, clearly I slipped a little since this is a joint Week 3 & 4 post, but I have a slew of excuses reasons at the ready, to help explain myself, the largest of which is.... I got a wee promotion! My boss Meghan has abandoned us to take up a fantastic opportunity in Cambodia, and I’ve recently been asked to take over until my contract (and current funding for the program) ends. Actually, it just occurred to me that I haven’t officially told anyone official that I’ll officially accept for that long, so I guess I better make a note to speak up tomorrow.

Today’s Bon Jovi lyric has been selected in honour of Meghan, the new adventure her and her family are about to embark on, and the relationship we developed over the last year. Inevitably whenever someone moves on to the next part of their lives, it is easy to think back to the start, which we’ve been doing a lot recently. For Meghan and I, the start was pretty rocky. It was a difficult time and not the best introduction. And yet, we totally found our way through it. As she described to someone in the office just before she said her final goodbyes, it didn’t take long before I was her “Person” in the office and she was mine... for me, it will take awhile to adjust, not just to the empty desk at the front of the room but also to all the other implications that vacant space means to me personally. I’ve promised to let her continue to life coach me via email (I need all the help I can get -and she knows it- which is why she eventually intervened and said she was taking over). It won’t be the same here without her, and I’ve got some pretty big shoes to fill, but I’m lucky she didn’t leave me with the mess she arrived to a year ago.  

Welcome to wherever you are

This is your life, you made it this far

Welcome, you gotta believe

That right here right now, you're exactly where you're supposed to be

Welcome, to wherever you are

When everybody's in, and you're left out

And you feel your drowning, in a shadow of a doubt

Everyones a miracle in their own way

Just listen to yourself, not what other people say

When it seems you're lost, alone and feeling down

Remember everybody's different

Just take a look around

Here’s an update from the third and fourth week of my 7 Week Plan.

Every week:
1.	Stick to my Isagenix program	Ok, so I totally didn’t expect to lose much in the last couple of weeks, considering I had plenty of weak moments (like caving on my Week 3 full day cleanse and eating chicken and cabbage for dinner), or making questionable choices (instead of doing a Sunday cleanse day I decided to go in a different direction aka the Sunday Night Roast Buffet dinner at Honiara Hotel), or simply having some tantrum-esque, “EFF-THIS” moments (and eating pasta for breakfast), but I’ve actually done surprisingly well. Total weight loss since last update: 5.5 lbs Total weight loss since Day 1:  7.8 lbs
2.	Exercise 2 hours per week	Thanks to 2x a week Zumba class and my workout buddy Penny, I’ve exceeded my 2 hr goal for the last two weeks. Bring it on!
3.	Connect with at least one friend that I haven’t been in contact with in awhile	I’m actually doing pretty badly at initiating this even though I totally thought it would be an easy one. Closest I’ve come is having a catch up with a dear friend Caroline (of “why I don’t like to ride things” story fame), who had amazing news to share: she’s going to be a mom! And not only that, the baby is due the day after my birthday, so clearly this kid is going to be phenomenal. Am super excited for her and Charlie!
4.	Extend an invitation to do something with someone	Week 3: I invited Meghan’s husband to dinner to satisfy this requirement (no joke) but ended up going to their place instead. Week 4: See #7
5.	Do at least one fun thing on the weekend	Week 3: Another dinner with friends (still fun, still counts) Week 4: Dinner at the French restaurant with friends and, See #7
6.	Update this blog	So I’m a little late, but who’s counting?
By the end of the 7 Weeks
7.	Host one dinner party	So on Sunday evening I had 8 friends over for dinner. The premise was simple: I’d google a couple of new recipes and then we’d all convene to cook and then eat together. It’s the second time I’ve done it, and we learned how to make homemade tortillas and flat bread (last time was perogies – which were incredible – and gnocchi – which wasn’t). Despite one friend saying she thought my original request for her to bring a few of the ingredients was “bossy”, I successfully won her over and everyone had happy bellies and a great time. Special shout out to my exercise buddy Penny who made an awesome mexican beef stew that totally stole the show (and really necessitated my participation at Zumba on Monday).
8.	Find a hobby or start a project	Needless to say, it’s been a bit hectic at work, and who knew that exercising a few days a week, socializing, keeping up with interesting reading/blogs and trying to start a side project would mean that I have significantly less time for my one true love: tv. As for a hobby or project, I remember telling a friend somewhat recently, that I really wanted to create something. Something to add to the world, that wouldn’t be there otherwise. “Um, a baby?..” he responded, hesitantly, cautiously Which I found funny at the time because it’s totally not what I had in mind, though was super on point and is totally up for grabs as an option if anyone wants to partner with me on that venture... ...anyone? Don’t answer right away, feel free to sleep on it. Anyway, since being home last, I’ve found myself spending a lot of time thinking about all the amazing things my friends are doing. Things they are creating. Not just marriages and babies and relationships and well rounded lives for their dogs, but other stuff too, like businesses and “projects”, and hobbies/side gigs that actually are something. A contribution to the world. That wouldn’t otherwise be there. I was inspired. And jealous. And then decided that I could probably do something too. So what am I doing, you ask? No, I’m not writing a book (sorry Teri Herbert) Don’t laugh: I’m building an app. Like, not totally on my own, I’ve got a partner in crime (coincidentally, Meghan’s husband, Paul). More details to follow as we wade through this. It’s pretty exciting though, and also a bit intimidating and it probably won’t go anywhere, but it’s been invigorating to learn about something new, consider possibilities and basically, just try. It's going to cost a bit of cash, but probably way less than if I choose to pursue my back up plan of scrapbooking. Stay tuned for details!
9.	Learn Twitter	Follow me on @HeatherCQuinn I still don’t really get it. I mean I get it, but I don’t really understand the appeal. Or all the shortened link names etc. Nevertheless, I’m trying.
10.	Learn how to do something new	I think trying to figure out how to design and launch an app counts.
11.	Make a new friend	No progress yet – but I have a lead.
12.	Figure out what the heck I’m going to do for Christmas	THIS JUST IN: yesterday I booked myself on a 9 day tour of the North Island of New Zealand, from Wellington to Auckland. So holidays still start with 5 days in Brisbane for Bon Jovi and hanging out with a friend, then 5 days to explore Wellington and hit up some Lord of the Rings Tours because I’m really cool, then 9 days making my way up to Auckland via tour. Back to Brisbane on Dec 31st in time to stock up on essential supplies (like cheese) before the shops close for New Years Eve, then back home to Honiara Dec 2nd. Much love and thanks for the friends who offered to have me, but I think this is going to be a good Christmas Orphan option, but who knows when I’ll get a chance to see New Zealand in the near future. Of course, I’m probably going to end up with a bus load of old people, but if they’re as hilarious as my Grandma is, I should be good. (Grandma, please don’t get upset that I called you old. At 82, it’s more a fact than a judgement and you should be proud  that you're still awesome. Also, don't forget that you can't hit reply to this email. Love you!)

4 weeks down, 3 to go.

Hard at work, tortilla making

I swore in church.

I recently went to church for the first time in a (very) long time.

This may be shocking to some of you. Indeed, it caught me off guard that I actually went. I’m not a fan of church and haven’t been for awhile. A part of me wants it to be the sort of thing that feels right for me, for the community aspect of it all. As a child I was forced to go, but somewhere along the line my mom finally gave up on the Sunday morning fights and surrendered to the fact that we would be Tourist Catholics (Easter and Christmas, Amen) though even most of those occasions eventually slipped. Most recently, I've abhorred the idea of going to church because it reminds me of my Pops, and I just cry (which was ok the first time my whole extended family attended church together and sat there sobbing like we were watching The Notebook, but not something I care to repeat).

Yet here I was, agreeing to go, because a dear friend asked me to.

We were late of course, because I was driving (my housemates car battery died) and had spent most of the early morning laying in bed trying to figure out how I was going to tell Rodolfo that I was backing out. He had asked my housemate (Annalisa), her boyfriend (Elio) who is currently living with us, and I to join him on this day as his time in the Solomons was coming to a close. I thought I was sick and needed to stay back. It was probably psychosomatic. When he offered me an aspirin (“I will give you something. This is the best medicine you will ever have”, he said it in that innocent, eager and impassioned Italian way he always did), I was suckered.  I was going.

I wasn't the only reason we were late of course– I was travelling with two Italians and considering this country runs on Solomon Time anyways, even the Swiss-German that was getting into the car had no power to counteract the tardiness of the rest of our gang.

So eventually we were off, dressed like tourists with our hats on, all sunscreened up and packing large bottles of water, not entirely sure what to expect but ready to continue our Sunday with God and the good people of a technically illegal squatters settlement in the Honiara hills about a 30 minute drive from my house. We stopped to buy beer on the way*. No joke.

The service had already started when we arrived at the permanent structure built at the base of a hill we would later climb. Inside there were rows of plastic patio chairs and perhaps 30 or 40 worshipers scattered throughout. On the altar, a band was playing while a lead singer belted out an enthusiastic tune, probably something about Jesus being a Savior and his love or something, while the back-up singers swayed and sang. This was loud though. There were drums. The guitars and bass were electric and the swaying involved some jumping, with lots of eyes closed in that passionate way once does when they are truly in the moment. Hands were raised to the heavens.

The pastor greeted us as we entered, hugging Rodolfo, who had started coming to the church to do some research for his PhD in Anthropology. He had spent much of the last year in this squatters settlement and had become one of the community, including becoming ‘adopted’ by a local family who would present him with an impressive shell money necklace** later that day. The gift could be compared to a dowry, and represented that they had now ‘bought’ him and therefore he belonged to their family now, not his own. He was touched.

We were ushered to the front row of chairs, which had been saved for us. Rodolfo had already briefed us on what to expect and it didn't take long before his hands were above his head, swaying to the electric guitar, vocalizing his prayers like everyone else so that the pastor was really just leading a tidal wave of love, dedication, sorrow and hope that would rise up and crash over him passing through the church and up the hill behind it, then on to who knows where.  All the while the band would play, faster and louder until you could feel it in your bones and the power of it all was pretty undeniable. I dislike church for a number of reasons but none of them would come to mind in that moment. I think it was the kind of thing that would inspire an appropriate use of the word ‘awesome’.

I cried a little, because I was in church and thinking about my grandfather (who would have hated this experience in its entirety; he would have found it offensive that this was considered religious worship and altogether not serious enough for church, good ‘ol Catholic man that he was) but I just put on my sunglasses for awhile and tried to decide how cute I thought the bass player was because that was as good a way as any to get my mind occupied with something else. No one noticed because most of them had their eyes closed and were too absorbed in the music and their worship.

There was a normal sermon, then more singing. People came and went. Smoke and toilet breaks were allowed. The crowd got bigger. Then, the song changed, and the woman behind me came closer and put her hands around my waist and before I knew it she grabbed me and started dancing. I was startled. ‘What the Fuuuuuu….?!” . It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. I turned to look at the congregation behind me and it was like everything was in slow motion, my senses overloaded and my brain unable to instantaneously understand what I was seeing: people were literally running around the church. Across the rows of chairs, in the aisles, in circles with their elbows bent and a bit of a jig in their step. Rodolfo got right into it but the three of us looked at each other with wide eyes and we knew we were all thinking the same thing “What the hell is going on?!” So we laughed, then awkwardly started to join in.  The awkwardness began to fade as we totally got into it, dosey doe-ing at the front of the church, just below the alter, with the pastor. I eventually had a chance to listen to the lyrics ‘I am running’ must have been the name of the song, and every time the band got to the chorus, we’d all have to start running around again. It was hilarious and a pretty decent workout.

As the service moved on, the pastor said a few words about Rodolfo, then Rodolfo got up to talk about his experience in the past year and thank everyone in the community, before calling the rest of us up to say a little something into the mic. I spoke about growing up Catholic and how if my church and been like this one I may have been more inclined to attend on occasion, which was met with a round of applause and some whoops and hollars. I laughed, imagining anyone giving a whoop at a church back home.

We all sat back down and the pastor continued, but was interrupted by Rodolfo who had forgotten a few things he wanted to say. First was to tell people about a proposal he had just submitted to get some water tanks for the community, and secondly was to tell everyone that our second car had a flat battery and to ask if anyone had jumper cables that we could borrow. We nearly burst out laughing at how displaced this request felt in the middle of a church service, and yet were appreciative of the effectiveness of the approach – the next day the local town council representative dropped off some jumper cables at Annalisa’s office and I learned how to jump start a car.

 (At least Pops would have approved of that.)

* The beer was for Rodolfo’s goodbye feast with his family, not for church.

**Shell money is the traditional form of currency in the Solomon Islands, and still used though mostly symbolically. It’s literally made out of shells and has standard value throughout the country depending on the shell, design etc.