I'm spoiled. This is how I know: I've been in the US since October of 2009 and this sort of annoys me. It is too long. I need to run away for a while. I tried twice, but it fell through and although I believe that was providential, it was disappointing. I feel as though I've been grounded. Now though, it. is. time. So yes, I'm spoiled - I know this. Many people never leave their home country - probably most never do. I've had the great privilege to see many amazing places and meet amazing people there. Spoiled. Yes. I appreciate it though - that counts for something right?
The thing about this privilege I've had is that it is addictive. I'm like a shark with a taste for blood (weird analogy, but stick with me here...). I've had a taste of somewhere new, different, exotic, fresh, fascinating and now I crave it. I long for my next "hit". (wait, switched from blood to drugs. Happy travel blog goes terribly weird...) Truly, it fuels me somehow. It provides perspective and knowledge and inspires creativity when you return to the every day. Unquenchable wanderlust is fiercely educational and I pay far less for travel than for student loans - far, far, far less. So, it is well worth it.While I treasure my education and have no regrets, I also know that I've learned far more, far more quickly by experiencing it than by reading or taking in a lecture. Experience clings to you and connects you with a place and what has happened there in a far deeper way than any book or classroom can pass along. Once you have tasted of something different, somewhere new, something exotic and fresh and fascinatingly different, you must have more. You crave it. It fuels you somehow.
So, it is my great delight to be headed - very soon - to break in my new passport (I sort of miss my old one. It's sad that it doesn't get to come along. It got to go everywhere else! Sorry old passport friend. I would have kept you forever, the State Department is so very strict though!). I think that just tonight it struck me how close my next trip is and it finally felt real. This time next week I'll take a bus to NYC and board a plane (oh how I love to fly! ) and head to a new adventure. I'm going with some friends to Ireland the week of Thanksgiving and I'm so looking forward to it!
I'm ready for some perspective, some girl time, some time where I don't check my email for hours and don't feel guilty about it. I won't carry my cell phone. I won't have to peel myself out of bed for work - only for new things I have never done before. And, although I have treasured my opportunities to study abroad and do some short-term missions, this is a sincere vacation. I will not be obligated to turn in assignments or complete tasks or whatever... I will be obligated to sleep in a cozy villa with down beds and gorgeous grounds. There will be no mosquito nets or excess hand sanitizing or traveling with text books. I'm selfishly delighting in the very idea of this, because my travel has nearly always revolved around school or mission or work or visiting family - don't get me wrong - these were wonderful trips and I count myself so blessed to have taken each of them. I hope to have those opportunities again - in fact, I'm sure it would be nearly impossible to stop me. Still, the idea of a vacation that is truly without any purpose but to take a break from the normal and enjoy a new corner of creation makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. I almost feel guilty about it (pretty sure I can get over it though.).
I'm SO excited and so at a point in my life where I am 120% ready for a new adventure, new perspective, and a break from the normal so I can come back better for it again.
Wanderlust is a healthy addiction - like water or broccoli. That's what I'm choosing to believe anyway. You can't convince me otherwise!
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Affirmations
Raise your hand if, at any point in high school or college, a motivational speaker told you to say out loud to yourself in the mirror: "I'm Special!" 5 times in a row, 5 times a day. Or some equally simple and saccharine affirmation like this.
My hand is in the air. Both hands... Someone probably gave me the positive thinking lecture annually, at the very least, from 16 to 21.
Now, raise your hand if, you actually followed these instructions.
Uh huh. Me either... At the time, I'd sooner have cut off my hand and thrown it in the ocean. Positive thinking lectures are given when they are most necessary and, unfortunately, when our teenage brains are least accepting and most certain that repeating a postive thought aloud, taping it to our mirror, or even just consciously thinking it, is the most ridiculous possible thing to do. I would go so far as to say that this sort of presentation "affirmed" for me only that adults were old, had lost too many brain cells, and were to be respected much as you "respect" a small child - for their good intentions and not for their wisdom.
Ok, maybe you were slightly less cynical than me, but you must have felt at least a little silly about the concept right?
So seriously, can we change how we think? Is there power in positive thinking? Is there anything special about saying things out loud? Or is this something adults say to teenagers because teenagers are occasionally annoying and this method is a relatively harmless win-win of either annoying them or making them look ridiculous?
I read somewhere recently that people have 45,000 to 51,000 thoughts a day. So, if there are 1440 minutes in a day and 51,000 thoughts that is 35ish thoughts a minute - only it is probably significantly more during our conscious hours. However you do the math, that's a lot o' thoughts. Research shows that, for the average person, 80% of these thoughts are negative and 90-98% of today's thoughts will carry over to tomorrow. (Wow. We are extreme creatures of habit. Whoa.)
So, if so little changes is it worth trying to change? Yes, of course - even this "realist" (aka pessimist in denial) can't say positive change is bad. And the truth is, it's not going to be THAT hard. It's estimated to take 21 times to form a habit. It seems like a lot, but the deliberate statements aren't going to be the ones that join the lost 10%. I'm pretty sure the forgotten 10% must be things more like "that cloud looks like an elephant" and "soup or salad?". The statements we think on purpose should easily make the replay list and the odds are in favor of the replay list. And a single, deliberate, statement must be more than one thought. A single statement probably invites...
thoughts to develop a positive statement thoughts to refine the statement thoughts to convince yourself it's not the stupidest thing you've ever said thoughts to remind yourself that it's ok to look silly thoughts about whether someone will hear your positive statement thoughts about whether it counts for more if you say it to someone thoughts while actually saying it thoughts about how you can't believe you just did that thoughts about what people who heard it think thoughts about what people would think if they had heard it thoughts about whether you should do it again thoughts about who you should say it to thoughts about having so many thoughts about a positive thought thoughts about the positive thought thoughts about if it is true thoughts about if it will change anything thoughts about how many times it will take to change something thoughts about what to do to make the positive thought an action thoughts about words and actions thoughts about positive thoughts being contagious...
I know, you get the picture. (I'm particularly good at rambling though!) Still, just one little statement gets you all those positivity points. Score!
Also, I need to preach for just a second. I believe that God spoke the world into being. I also believe we are made in His image. So, if I claim to believe these things than I'd be an enormous hypocrite to believe our voice is without power, especially in our very own brains.
Still, I feel more than a little ridiculous going to the extreme of speaking affirmations aloud to myself.
Here goes though...
Stand in front of your mirror with me friends!
"I'm special."
"I'm special."
"I'm special."
"I'm special."
"I'm special."
Yeah, I can't do it without making faces either...
We can start smaller though right? Can we write our favorite quote/bible verse/thing someone said to us on a post-it and stick it somewhere awesomely obscure and all our own? (There may, from time to time, be post-its under things on my desk...) Sing the lyrics to your favorite childhood song obnoxiously loud alone in our cars? (PSA: Texting AND Father Abraham are dangerous while driving. Think before you "right arm" or this may be the last time you "turn around, sit down".) Think about how grateful we are our favorite food exists? Think about our favorite people to eat that food with and how cool it is to have them in our lives? Drink coffee - tell the girl who sold us the coffee that she makes our day better? Baby steps! Then, sometime next week/month/decade, when we are very, very brave we can tell the face in the mirror that it's cool, pretty, smart, important, loved, give it a fist bump and get on with our freakishly optimistic day.
High five to you freakishly optimistic and content Megan of the future!
My hand is in the air. Both hands... Someone probably gave me the positive thinking lecture annually, at the very least, from 16 to 21.
Now, raise your hand if, you actually followed these instructions.
Uh huh. Me either... At the time, I'd sooner have cut off my hand and thrown it in the ocean. Positive thinking lectures are given when they are most necessary and, unfortunately, when our teenage brains are least accepting and most certain that repeating a postive thought aloud, taping it to our mirror, or even just consciously thinking it, is the most ridiculous possible thing to do. I would go so far as to say that this sort of presentation "affirmed" for me only that adults were old, had lost too many brain cells, and were to be respected much as you "respect" a small child - for their good intentions and not for their wisdom.
Ok, maybe you were slightly less cynical than me, but you must have felt at least a little silly about the concept right?
So seriously, can we change how we think? Is there power in positive thinking? Is there anything special about saying things out loud? Or is this something adults say to teenagers because teenagers are occasionally annoying and this method is a relatively harmless win-win of either annoying them or making them look ridiculous?
I read somewhere recently that people have 45,000 to 51,000 thoughts a day. So, if there are 1440 minutes in a day and 51,000 thoughts that is 35ish thoughts a minute - only it is probably significantly more during our conscious hours. However you do the math, that's a lot o' thoughts. Research shows that, for the average person, 80% of these thoughts are negative and 90-98% of today's thoughts will carry over to tomorrow. (Wow. We are extreme creatures of habit. Whoa.)
So, if so little changes is it worth trying to change? Yes, of course - even this "realist" (aka pessimist in denial) can't say positive change is bad. And the truth is, it's not going to be THAT hard. It's estimated to take 21 times to form a habit. It seems like a lot, but the deliberate statements aren't going to be the ones that join the lost 10%. I'm pretty sure the forgotten 10% must be things more like "that cloud looks like an elephant" and "soup or salad?". The statements we think on purpose should easily make the replay list and the odds are in favor of the replay list. And a single, deliberate, statement must be more than one thought. A single statement probably invites...
thoughts to develop a positive statement thoughts to refine the statement thoughts to convince yourself it's not the stupidest thing you've ever said thoughts to remind yourself that it's ok to look silly thoughts about whether someone will hear your positive statement thoughts about whether it counts for more if you say it to someone thoughts while actually saying it thoughts about how you can't believe you just did that thoughts about what people who heard it think thoughts about what people would think if they had heard it thoughts about whether you should do it again thoughts about who you should say it to thoughts about having so many thoughts about a positive thought thoughts about the positive thought thoughts about if it is true thoughts about if it will change anything thoughts about how many times it will take to change something thoughts about what to do to make the positive thought an action thoughts about words and actions thoughts about positive thoughts being contagious...
I know, you get the picture. (I'm particularly good at rambling though!) Still, just one little statement gets you all those positivity points. Score!
Also, I need to preach for just a second. I believe that God spoke the world into being. I also believe we are made in His image. So, if I claim to believe these things than I'd be an enormous hypocrite to believe our voice is without power, especially in our very own brains.
Still, I feel more than a little ridiculous going to the extreme of speaking affirmations aloud to myself.
Here goes though...
Stand in front of your mirror with me friends!
"I'm special."
"I'm special."
"I'm special."
"I'm special."
"I'm special."
Yeah, I can't do it without making faces either...
We can start smaller though right? Can we write our favorite quote/bible verse/thing someone said to us on a post-it and stick it somewhere awesomely obscure and all our own? (There may, from time to time, be post-its under things on my desk...) Sing the lyrics to your favorite childhood song obnoxiously loud alone in our cars? (PSA: Texting AND Father Abraham are dangerous while driving. Think before you "right arm" or this may be the last time you "turn around, sit down".) Think about how grateful we are our favorite food exists? Think about our favorite people to eat that food with and how cool it is to have them in our lives? Drink coffee - tell the girl who sold us the coffee that she makes our day better? Baby steps! Then, sometime next week/month/decade, when we are very, very brave we can tell the face in the mirror that it's cool, pretty, smart, important, loved, give it a fist bump and get on with our freakishly optimistic day.
High five to you freakishly optimistic and content Megan of the future!
Sunday, October 2, 2011
The Attitude of Platitudes
Platitudes make me want to throw things.
I don't really want to hurt anyone, but I do want to alarm them into perhaps thinking about the words coming out of their mouths.
Saying things that mean nothing does not mean nothing.
"Tomorrow is another day"
"Go with the flow"
"God's bigger than that"
"It will all be ok in the end"
"Everything has a purpose"
"It all comes out in the wash"
"All's well that ends well"
"There's no I in team"
"The early bird gets the worm."
"Time heals all wounds"
Trite, condescending, meaningless, dismissive. Or maybe just not listening at all...
Little bothers me more than receiving or hearing this sort of statement. It demands the end of a conversation, usually one that sought some support, because these trusims present with such finality that there is nowhere to go once they are out there. The thing is though - time alone may not heal all wounds, nobody asked if there was an I in team, and tomorrow being another day doesn't always offer any sort of comfort because tomorrow just might be another terrible day.
Platitudes, unless joined with a healthy dose of of other words that come with actual thought applied to an actual situation, make me certain you are probably just relationally lazy. Don't get me wrong. I understand, better than many, that it's hard work. I'm a super introvert. It is against my very nature to prolong any conversation. Still, people are alive and worth caring about - save your meaningless platitudes for your plants. Think how you'd want to be treated and consider trying to do just a little better than that. Truisms ring false. Listen more. Make an effort - people aren't stupid - even when they're hurting or vulnerable. They know when you're not trying. Even a tiny piece of information shared may not have been as simple to give up as you might think. They've valued you enough to share. Be grateful. Be responsive. Or you may not get a second chance. If you have no idea what to say, quiet is sometimes the answer. Nod. Thank them for sharing. Offer to pray. Just try to say something with some of your own words that don't rhyme or slam the conversational brakes.
In summary, don't be a jerk. (wait, I can do better than that...)
Seriously, while your platitudes may be meaningless, harmless words, the attitude of apathy that comes with them is dangerous and contagious. Care! Compose your very own sentence for someone. It's hard, but worth it. Caring is contagious too. Give it a whirl. You'll probably get more of it back.
I'm trying too. Good luck to us at this not being a jerk business. It's hard work.
I don't really want to hurt anyone, but I do want to alarm them into perhaps thinking about the words coming out of their mouths.
Saying things that mean nothing does not mean nothing.
"Tomorrow is another day"
"Go with the flow"
"God's bigger than that"
"It will all be ok in the end"
"Everything has a purpose"
"It all comes out in the wash"
"All's well that ends well"
"There's no I in team"
"The early bird gets the worm."
"Time heals all wounds"
Trite, condescending, meaningless, dismissive. Or maybe just not listening at all...
Little bothers me more than receiving or hearing this sort of statement. It demands the end of a conversation, usually one that sought some support, because these trusims present with such finality that there is nowhere to go once they are out there. The thing is though - time alone may not heal all wounds, nobody asked if there was an I in team, and tomorrow being another day doesn't always offer any sort of comfort because tomorrow just might be another terrible day.
Platitudes, unless joined with a healthy dose of of other words that come with actual thought applied to an actual situation, make me certain you are probably just relationally lazy. Don't get me wrong. I understand, better than many, that it's hard work. I'm a super introvert. It is against my very nature to prolong any conversation. Still, people are alive and worth caring about - save your meaningless platitudes for your plants. Think how you'd want to be treated and consider trying to do just a little better than that. Truisms ring false. Listen more. Make an effort - people aren't stupid - even when they're hurting or vulnerable. They know when you're not trying. Even a tiny piece of information shared may not have been as simple to give up as you might think. They've valued you enough to share. Be grateful. Be responsive. Or you may not get a second chance. If you have no idea what to say, quiet is sometimes the answer. Nod. Thank them for sharing. Offer to pray. Just try to say something with some of your own words that don't rhyme or slam the conversational brakes.
In summary, don't be a jerk. (wait, I can do better than that...)
Seriously, while your platitudes may be meaningless, harmless words, the attitude of apathy that comes with them is dangerous and contagious. Care! Compose your very own sentence for someone. It's hard, but worth it. Caring is contagious too. Give it a whirl. You'll probably get more of it back.
I'm trying too. Good luck to us at this not being a jerk business. It's hard work.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
I wear my sunglasses inside...
I wear my sunglasses inside (and at night)
So I can, so I can see
No really...
I lost my glasses in (gasp) the first week of July.
Then I spent the next week in Florda.
Then, I looked for them, with great determination and cleaning of my home, for a week.
Then I thought: "sad times. totally, totally lost. I need new ones. Must find opthalmologist!"
Then, I did nothing. No, wait - I squinted for a couple weeks.
Then, I began to get headaches.
Finally, I researched eye doctors and found an opthalmologist within walking distance of my home or office.
Then, I didn't make an appointment - for 2 weeks. ("Why Megan, why!" I know... I'm thinking it too.)
Then, FINALLY, on August 29th I made an appointment and they got me in right away, September 1st.
Then, I went & didn't choose glasses. Commitment phobia!
Then, I went to the Mitten for Labor Day (Wish I could do that weekend again this weekend.)
Finally though, the following week September 8th, I went and I chose glasses AND prescription sunglasses. (Buy one, get one sale - SCORE!)
Here though, is where the story takes a turn - that turn being, it's finally somebody's fault besides mine. The glasses which should come in 7 - 10 days are still not here 21 days later. The sunglasses, on the other hand, I've had for a week now and that was after waiting a week thinking I'd just pick them up at the same time as the glasses.
So, it may be the case that once or twice I wore the sunglasses while driving at a somewhat later hour that was somewhat lacking in sunshine. And perhaps I "forgot" to take them off when I came inside...and read a book once (a day, on several days). Totally normal to forget things like taking off your sunglasses sometimes...
I wear my sunglasses inside. What kind of weirdo does that? (Weirdo with a headache, that's what kind.)
At least it's not my fault. Stupid company being slow with my complicated prescription! I mean, it's not like I waited TWO entire months when I'm nearly blind in one eye. Oh wait...
Anyway, if you see me with purple sunglasses on inside. It's cool. Call me Corey Hart.
I wear my sunglasses inside (and at night)
So I can, so I can
See the light that's right in front of me
(Literally.)
They'll come in soon right? In the meantime, I'm keeping Advil in business and upon review of the sunglasses song, I've decided it's sort of depressing. Sad. Mine aren't depressing. The purpleness negates all sunglasses related depression.
Obviously.
So I can, so I can see
No really...
I lost my glasses in (gasp) the first week of July.
Then I spent the next week in Florda.
Then, I looked for them, with great determination and cleaning of my home, for a week.
Then I thought: "sad times. totally, totally lost. I need new ones. Must find opthalmologist!"
Then, I did nothing. No, wait - I squinted for a couple weeks.
Then, I began to get headaches.
Finally, I researched eye doctors and found an opthalmologist within walking distance of my home or office.
Then, I didn't make an appointment - for 2 weeks. ("Why Megan, why!" I know... I'm thinking it too.)
Then, FINALLY, on August 29th I made an appointment and they got me in right away, September 1st.
Then, I went & didn't choose glasses. Commitment phobia!
Then, I went to the Mitten for Labor Day (Wish I could do that weekend again this weekend.)
Finally though, the following week September 8th, I went and I chose glasses AND prescription sunglasses. (Buy one, get one sale - SCORE!)
Here though, is where the story takes a turn - that turn being, it's finally somebody's fault besides mine. The glasses which should come in 7 - 10 days are still not here 21 days later. The sunglasses, on the other hand, I've had for a week now and that was after waiting a week thinking I'd just pick them up at the same time as the glasses.
So, it may be the case that once or twice I wore the sunglasses while driving at a somewhat later hour that was somewhat lacking in sunshine. And perhaps I "forgot" to take them off when I came inside...and read a book once (a day, on several days). Totally normal to forget things like taking off your sunglasses sometimes...
I wear my sunglasses inside. What kind of weirdo does that? (Weirdo with a headache, that's what kind.)
At least it's not my fault. Stupid company being slow with my complicated prescription! I mean, it's not like I waited TWO entire months when I'm nearly blind in one eye. Oh wait...
Anyway, if you see me with purple sunglasses on inside. It's cool. Call me Corey Hart.
I wear my sunglasses inside (and at night)
So I can, so I can
See the light that's right in front of me
(Literally.)
They'll come in soon right? In the meantime, I'm keeping Advil in business and upon review of the sunglasses song, I've decided it's sort of depressing. Sad. Mine aren't depressing. The purpleness negates all sunglasses related depression.
Obviously.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Waiting for the leaves to crunch...
I spoke to a friend this morning who was blaming me for the cool weather. I took this as a compliment. If only it were true! We would have so much more of friendly fall.
Doesn't the first weekend of fall make you want to send someone a freshly sharpened bouquet of pencils? The last few days have felt like fall has truly arrived and it makes my heart happy! I don't really take much notice as other seasons creep in. Fall makes me want to throw my arms wide open as if to greet a long lost friend though.
Anyone who knows me at all, knows that fall and I have a special relationship. No matter what else is going on in my day, walking in colorful, crunching leaves can always make me smile. Any day now the leaves will begin to fall... The crisp air is easier to breathe. The temperature is perfect - no sweating, no bulky coats. Fall clothes are the best. Fall colors are the best. Fall foods are the best. (Apples, cinnamon, pumpkin spice latte....) Seasonal bliss!
Today, I ate breakfast outside and threw open all the windows and baked cookies and I walked pointlessly all the way around an extra block before I drove home after church tonight. I just couldn't convince myself to get in the car yet. My mind is filling with thoughts of baking with cinnamon, picking apples, raking leaves, finding a hayride, buying school supplies (ok, I don't do this one anymore, but...).
My favorite vanilla & cinnamon tea came out tonight. It wasn't summer appropriate, but now we can be friends again. Soon, I can get out my fall wreath. (I really only have one for fall. See? I really do forget to notice the other seasons. Poor, lame other seasons.) I'm pretty sure some cinnamon banana bread is on tomorrow's agenda too.
Alright, enough silly fall ramblings for now. I suppose I should sleep so I can get up at a reasonable hour to love it again tomorrow.
Doesn't the first weekend of fall make you want to send someone a freshly sharpened bouquet of pencils? The last few days have felt like fall has truly arrived and it makes my heart happy! I don't really take much notice as other seasons creep in. Fall makes me want to throw my arms wide open as if to greet a long lost friend though.
Anyone who knows me at all, knows that fall and I have a special relationship. No matter what else is going on in my day, walking in colorful, crunching leaves can always make me smile. Any day now the leaves will begin to fall... The crisp air is easier to breathe. The temperature is perfect - no sweating, no bulky coats. Fall clothes are the best. Fall colors are the best. Fall foods are the best. (Apples, cinnamon, pumpkin spice latte....) Seasonal bliss!
Today, I ate breakfast outside and threw open all the windows and baked cookies and I walked pointlessly all the way around an extra block before I drove home after church tonight. I just couldn't convince myself to get in the car yet. My mind is filling with thoughts of baking with cinnamon, picking apples, raking leaves, finding a hayride, buying school supplies (ok, I don't do this one anymore, but...).
My favorite vanilla & cinnamon tea came out tonight. It wasn't summer appropriate, but now we can be friends again. Soon, I can get out my fall wreath. (I really only have one for fall. See? I really do forget to notice the other seasons. Poor, lame other seasons.) I'm pretty sure some cinnamon banana bread is on tomorrow's agenda too.
Alright, enough silly fall ramblings for now. I suppose I should sleep so I can get up at a reasonable hour to love it again tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Road Trip Essentials
Ok, so I'm many, many days behind on the Mitten bound road trip review. I have good excuses though, like water in my basement. Again and still and in new exciting places... And sleeping on the floor because my closet is on my bed and I'm trying to find a new roommate. Never a dull moment. Anway, on to the road trip!
So, let's just have a quick road trip check list.
1. Snacks. I brought water and carrots and pepper slices and hummus. Who the heck eats hummus in a car? I have no idea what I was thinking. Luckily my friends don't suck at car snacks as much as me. They had red vines and vernors. Healthy car snacks Megan? It's not even in character. I must have had a stroke. You should also find Sonic at some point. You should look it up on your GPS and don't stop until you find it. This is important. You might need to switch drivers in the drive-thru. It happens sometimes.
2. Games. You know, destination trivia, you might be from Michigan if... I think we all failed Michigan trivia, but it was ridiculous and we all learned things we'll never need to know. Also, I failed less than everyone else - just so you know (let me have this! I never win anything!). Also, you should play name that tune and hum all varieties of randomness. If possible, you shouldn't do it in torrential rain, it is very distracting from the tune naming, but it really adds something to the experience if you get cut off by a semi while humming as long as everyone lives (Don't worry. There were no particularly close calls...)
3. Music. It should be bad. Except some of it should also be good. Mostly it should be loud. Most importantly, it should be memorable. There should be dedications. That song you listened to 45 times a day when you were 15? That one is important. The headliner from your favorite musical? Yes. The soundtrack to The Sound of Music - Obviously, turn it up! Also very important, Michael W. Smith. Don't give me any lip about that one - I'll send you west young man... (groan.) You should listen to Amy Grant too. You should then look up her biography and learn her life history. Ahh the instant gratification of smart phones. Humanity need never be patient again...
4. Friends. You can't really have a successful road trip without your favorite, loud, up for the ridiculous, friends. I've tried. In fact, I've had several long, solo, wide open road, drives. I like them, but they aren't quite the same. And if you play the humming game alone in a car then something is probably wrong with you. And you have to talk on your cell phone a lot when you are alone. This is dangerous - not because talking is dangerous, that's what speakerphone is for. It's slightly dangerous because of me. You see, my cars have a history of dysfunctional lighters so you can never charge your phone and if you don't have someone with you who needs the bathroom occasionally you might wait until the last possible moment to get gas. Bad plan - especially when your phone is dead from talking to everyone you know. So, the thing is: you should take someone with you to talk to and sing poorly with and read a terribly silly book aloud to you and hum. You can't play the humming game alone. You already know the answer. Lame. People are good for you. Take them, you'll like it.
5. Destination. You need somewhere to go. And plans for when you get there. Some of them should be important - visiting people you like, meet new people you like. Some of them should be relaxing - beach, sleep in, don't check your email 812 times a day. Some of them should be ridiculous - Meijer in the middle of the night and bedtime stories from Youtube. The destination is essential, but the experience there & getting there is the point. We had a pretty fantastic destination, but still, it can't be the whole point.The friends and the community building chaos is the important part. It's undeniably crucial that you be stupid together. Otherwise, you can't become a Michigander. (Rules for becoming a Michigander: Learn a fight song, learn to play and say euchre, swim in the Lake, know where you are on your own hand. Learn the state animal. You're in!).
In review, stupid + together = important. Ok?
Sonic is good too though.Sonic's ice might be the 2nd most important thing after great people. Yes, probably...
So, let's just have a quick road trip check list.
1. Snacks. I brought water and carrots and pepper slices and hummus. Who the heck eats hummus in a car? I have no idea what I was thinking. Luckily my friends don't suck at car snacks as much as me. They had red vines and vernors. Healthy car snacks Megan? It's not even in character. I must have had a stroke. You should also find Sonic at some point. You should look it up on your GPS and don't stop until you find it. This is important. You might need to switch drivers in the drive-thru. It happens sometimes.
2. Games. You know, destination trivia, you might be from Michigan if... I think we all failed Michigan trivia, but it was ridiculous and we all learned things we'll never need to know. Also, I failed less than everyone else - just so you know (let me have this! I never win anything!). Also, you should play name that tune and hum all varieties of randomness. If possible, you shouldn't do it in torrential rain, it is very distracting from the tune naming, but it really adds something to the experience if you get cut off by a semi while humming as long as everyone lives (Don't worry. There were no particularly close calls...)
3. Music. It should be bad. Except some of it should also be good. Mostly it should be loud. Most importantly, it should be memorable. There should be dedications. That song you listened to 45 times a day when you were 15? That one is important. The headliner from your favorite musical? Yes. The soundtrack to The Sound of Music - Obviously, turn it up! Also very important, Michael W. Smith. Don't give me any lip about that one - I'll send you west young man... (groan.) You should listen to Amy Grant too. You should then look up her biography and learn her life history. Ahh the instant gratification of smart phones. Humanity need never be patient again...
4. Friends. You can't really have a successful road trip without your favorite, loud, up for the ridiculous, friends. I've tried. In fact, I've had several long, solo, wide open road, drives. I like them, but they aren't quite the same. And if you play the humming game alone in a car then something is probably wrong with you. And you have to talk on your cell phone a lot when you are alone. This is dangerous - not because talking is dangerous, that's what speakerphone is for. It's slightly dangerous because of me. You see, my cars have a history of dysfunctional lighters so you can never charge your phone and if you don't have someone with you who needs the bathroom occasionally you might wait until the last possible moment to get gas. Bad plan - especially when your phone is dead from talking to everyone you know. So, the thing is: you should take someone with you to talk to and sing poorly with and read a terribly silly book aloud to you and hum. You can't play the humming game alone. You already know the answer. Lame. People are good for you. Take them, you'll like it.
5. Destination. You need somewhere to go. And plans for when you get there. Some of them should be important - visiting people you like, meet new people you like. Some of them should be relaxing - beach, sleep in, don't check your email 812 times a day. Some of them should be ridiculous - Meijer in the middle of the night and bedtime stories from Youtube. The destination is essential, but the experience there & getting there is the point. We had a pretty fantastic destination, but still, it can't be the whole point.The friends and the community building chaos is the important part. It's undeniably crucial that you be stupid together. Otherwise, you can't become a Michigander. (Rules for becoming a Michigander: Learn a fight song, learn to play and say euchre, swim in the Lake, know where you are on your own hand. Learn the state animal. You're in!).
In review, stupid + together = important. Ok?
Sonic is good too though.Sonic's ice might be the 2nd most important thing after great people. Yes, probably...
Thursday, September 8, 2011
If you can't say something nice...
So, remember last post when I said there was a wet, orange rug in my basement? It's still wet. (Also, it's still orange, but...). Well, it was dry for a minute, but now it is wet again and again and again. The rain just doesn't seem to stop. Sadly, this endless wetness makes it difficult for anyone to come and resolve the endless wetness.
Dear Lord, please don't let the appliances in the laundry room explode from wetness.
Do you think God gets tired of me praying stupidly for trivial things? I feel like I've done it a lot lately. I think He is typically pretty patient and I think He has a pretty good sense of humor. I also think He cares about the desires of our hearts and sometimes grants them - even when our wants are definitely wants and not needs. Still, I should probably get my act together because lately many of my prayers seem a little too selfish and are definitely presented too selfishly. Things like...
LORD! (Please note that I am too often stomping my foot and shouting in my "look at me right now!" little kid voice.)
Please let the basement stop flooding or at least keep the water off of my bedroom carpet.
Please don't let me crash this car full of my friends into the stupid drivers around me who keep slamming on their brakes and driving like they've never been in a car before.
Thanks for great friends. I've been with them for days and I'm barely tired of them at all.
Please don't let there be eleventy billion emails for me just because I took a couple days off.
Form the words Lord, I can't tell this story, I'm really busy living it.
Do I have to respond to all ten billion emails? (I suppose I should have asked for it not to be a lower number...)
Why the heck is it still raining? Can I get a rainbow up in here?
Please make people not be stupid jerks. I can be patient with stupid, but it's very hard not to yell at them when they are jerks.
Fix it! I don't know what to do. Now what? Please? Please! Make somebody else do it!
You do it!
Amen
And then the echoes of a happily Lutheran childhood: "Amen. Amen means yes, yes it shall be so." And I seem to interpret this as: I'm asking because I know you CAN. I've not considered whether you should. I want it, therefore I demand it! Admittedly, this may not be my best theology and it certainly wasn't what they meant for me to absorb in that amazing little school I grew up in.
Back to the point though, I've been reconsidering today the idea that "we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words." (Check out the awesomeness at Romans 8:26).
My thoughts are: It's a good freakin' thing the Spirit does that. Deep right? I think the point tonight is that I'm So. Not. Deep. While some of these prayers and many others like them may not be wrong, they are still not well expressed. And, I think I've often thought about this verse too much as an emergency backup plan for when you're feeling so desperately broken you don't even know what kind of help to ask for. I do think it is for those moments. However, I'm thinking - hoping - that it also means that God is paying attention to the little girl who stomps her foot and shouts and the Spirit intercedes to protect her from herself. The Spirit can pass on an interpretation of that request that will be presentable to the Lord and useful to the spoiled, stomping, screaming brat who is too stubborn and stupid to even know the right way to ask, not to mention the right things. The brat who doesn't realize that she's definitely too broken to be presentable before the Lord on her own even when she is feeling lippy instead of desperate.
I've been more mature and thoughtful about prayer in the past. I remember it. What happened to me? I'm going to try and come on back around to thinking before I speak. Reverence is good. Thumper was on to something with that whole: "if you can't say something nice" business and I think it should probably be extended not only to saying nice things, but also saying things nicely. (Incidentally, I'm pretty sure throwing in a please usually isn't enough.) Hard.
I'm going to go say "nothing at all" now...
Coming soon though, thoughts on an amazing, adventure filled weekend away with friends... And possibly a list of my personal road trip musts.
Dear Lord, please don't let the appliances in the laundry room explode from wetness.
Do you think God gets tired of me praying stupidly for trivial things? I feel like I've done it a lot lately. I think He is typically pretty patient and I think He has a pretty good sense of humor. I also think He cares about the desires of our hearts and sometimes grants them - even when our wants are definitely wants and not needs. Still, I should probably get my act together because lately many of my prayers seem a little too selfish and are definitely presented too selfishly. Things like...
LORD! (Please note that I am too often stomping my foot and shouting in my "look at me right now!" little kid voice.)
Please let the basement stop flooding or at least keep the water off of my bedroom carpet.
Please don't let me crash this car full of my friends into the stupid drivers around me who keep slamming on their brakes and driving like they've never been in a car before.
Thanks for great friends. I've been with them for days and I'm barely tired of them at all.
Please don't let there be eleventy billion emails for me just because I took a couple days off.
Form the words Lord, I can't tell this story, I'm really busy living it.
Do I have to respond to all ten billion emails? (I suppose I should have asked for it not to be a lower number...)
Why the heck is it still raining? Can I get a rainbow up in here?
Please make people not be stupid jerks. I can be patient with stupid, but it's very hard not to yell at them when they are jerks.
Fix it! I don't know what to do. Now what? Please? Please! Make somebody else do it!
You do it!
Amen
And then the echoes of a happily Lutheran childhood: "Amen. Amen means yes, yes it shall be so." And I seem to interpret this as: I'm asking because I know you CAN. I've not considered whether you should. I want it, therefore I demand it! Admittedly, this may not be my best theology and it certainly wasn't what they meant for me to absorb in that amazing little school I grew up in.
Back to the point though, I've been reconsidering today the idea that "we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words." (Check out the awesomeness at Romans 8:26).
My thoughts are: It's a good freakin' thing the Spirit does that. Deep right? I think the point tonight is that I'm So. Not. Deep. While some of these prayers and many others like them may not be wrong, they are still not well expressed. And, I think I've often thought about this verse too much as an emergency backup plan for when you're feeling so desperately broken you don't even know what kind of help to ask for. I do think it is for those moments. However, I'm thinking - hoping - that it also means that God is paying attention to the little girl who stomps her foot and shouts and the Spirit intercedes to protect her from herself. The Spirit can pass on an interpretation of that request that will be presentable to the Lord and useful to the spoiled, stomping, screaming brat who is too stubborn and stupid to even know the right way to ask, not to mention the right things. The brat who doesn't realize that she's definitely too broken to be presentable before the Lord on her own even when she is feeling lippy instead of desperate.
I've been more mature and thoughtful about prayer in the past. I remember it. What happened to me? I'm going to try and come on back around to thinking before I speak. Reverence is good. Thumper was on to something with that whole: "if you can't say something nice" business and I think it should probably be extended not only to saying nice things, but also saying things nicely. (Incidentally, I'm pretty sure throwing in a please usually isn't enough.) Hard.
I'm going to go say "nothing at all" now...
Coming soon though, thoughts on an amazing, adventure filled weekend away with friends... And possibly a list of my personal road trip musts.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Wet Things and Orange Things and Wet, Orange Things
Orange you glad (groan) your basement - where your bedroom is - isn't flooding right now? I'm glad your basement isn't flooding too. I'm less delighted about the situation in my laundry room and watching very carefully to ensure that water stays dried up and out of my room... It seems to be a somewhat controlled leak at this point, but the wall is WET and the sump pump is working overtime. Eek. Adventures in renting... Luckily, I noticed that the corner of the bright orange rug in the laundry room was wet - or it could have been far more exciting before I got a handle on it. Next time I'm going to be lucky, I'm hoping to NOT notice it's wet, because it isn't. A girl can dream.
When it rains, it pours... Also, when it quakes it tropical storms - this week anyway...
What's extra sad about the whole basement wetness situation is that I JUST got a basement bathroom leak problem fixed today. Which I think may have gotten a little shaken up in the quake or just been a seal as old as time that needed to be replaced - or both. The very nice plumber made it all better this afternoon though. I wish he were still here with his taking his shoes off at my front door and leaving my bathroom cleaner than he found it. I bet he'd be better than me at solving the other leaking also... (Well, but I think anyone probably would.)
In other wet and orange news.... I went to the Women of Faith conference in DC last night and today. I got to go for free by volunteering. I got to wear an extraordinarily-attractive, orange smock style apron for a good cause. It had really big pockets where I carried - a lot of stuff... I was awesome. Try not to be too jealous. Seriously though, the work was only on the breaks and the conference turned out to be one of those places I was meant to be. Hearing things I needed to be reminded of. I may have cried. It may have been multiple times. I may have sprung a personal leak and cried when everyone else had moved on to some very upbeat worship. Maybe... "Umm, Hello? I'm leaking? Where is the knob to turn the water off on me?" I had a much easier time turning off the bathroom water problem...
It is not always convenint to be emotional and leaky. It used to be very rare that I cried. People keep telling me it's good for me lately. Umm, what? I don't care. I don't wanna. Apparently I am in some sort of season of weaping, because God seems to have aligned a myriad of people to tell me how good it is for me to cry in order to counteract the myriad of people and things He is using in my life to cause the crying. At least I knew not to wear mascara today after last night's leaking. I might need to stop wearing mascara for several months. Seriously though, Women of Faith, while it had a few rather cheesy moments, made far more of an impact on me than I expected. It was fun and sincere and powerfully truth packed - but in simple, "I can remember that" packages. I'm slightly regretting not buying a couple of books there. I'm willing to bet Amazon will help me out with those though.
On the other hand, I rescued a very wet Amazon box from my porch just today with three other books in it (They were still 98% dry - thankfully). So, maybe I should just add those books to the someday list since there was already a stack waiting for the latest three to join. I have more interest than hours to read. I'll catch up sometime though! I might just need to watch less Gilmore Girls reruns and turn more pages. Oh time management... (that's a whole other blog.)
I think I'll go work on the reading right now. (After I just, real quick, check the laundry room situation for the 912th time...)
When it rains, it pours... Also, when it quakes it tropical storms - this week anyway...
What's extra sad about the whole basement wetness situation is that I JUST got a basement bathroom leak problem fixed today. Which I think may have gotten a little shaken up in the quake or just been a seal as old as time that needed to be replaced - or both. The very nice plumber made it all better this afternoon though. I wish he were still here with his taking his shoes off at my front door and leaving my bathroom cleaner than he found it. I bet he'd be better than me at solving the other leaking also... (Well, but I think anyone probably would.)
In other wet and orange news.... I went to the Women of Faith conference in DC last night and today. I got to go for free by volunteering. I got to wear an extraordinarily-attractive, orange smock style apron for a good cause. It had really big pockets where I carried - a lot of stuff... I was awesome. Try not to be too jealous. Seriously though, the work was only on the breaks and the conference turned out to be one of those places I was meant to be. Hearing things I needed to be reminded of. I may have cried. It may have been multiple times. I may have sprung a personal leak and cried when everyone else had moved on to some very upbeat worship. Maybe... "Umm, Hello? I'm leaking? Where is the knob to turn the water off on me?" I had a much easier time turning off the bathroom water problem...
It is not always convenint to be emotional and leaky. It used to be very rare that I cried. People keep telling me it's good for me lately. Umm, what? I don't care. I don't wanna. Apparently I am in some sort of season of weaping, because God seems to have aligned a myriad of people to tell me how good it is for me to cry in order to counteract the myriad of people and things He is using in my life to cause the crying. At least I knew not to wear mascara today after last night's leaking. I might need to stop wearing mascara for several months. Seriously though, Women of Faith, while it had a few rather cheesy moments, made far more of an impact on me than I expected. It was fun and sincere and powerfully truth packed - but in simple, "I can remember that" packages. I'm slightly regretting not buying a couple of books there. I'm willing to bet Amazon will help me out with those though.
On the other hand, I rescued a very wet Amazon box from my porch just today with three other books in it (They were still 98% dry - thankfully). So, maybe I should just add those books to the someday list since there was already a stack waiting for the latest three to join. I have more interest than hours to read. I'll catch up sometime though! I might just need to watch less Gilmore Girls reruns and turn more pages. Oh time management... (that's a whole other blog.)
I think I'll go work on the reading right now. (After I just, real quick, check the laundry room situation for the 912th time...)
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Grateful!
Today was, for the most part, pretty fantastic.
So let's get right out with the obvious thing first. Let me do what everyone is doing and say:
EARTHQUAKE!!!!
There was an earthquake in VA that was felt by much of the east coast today. Now that we have that out of the way, can I admit something super weird? I kind of liked it. I mean, I'm no storm chaser. I don't ever want anyone getting hurt and any damage - even slight - that may have been caused is sad. Still, haven't you always been a little curious? What does it feel like? What would I do? What would the people around me do? So, there you have it. I'm a freak and I'm not afraid to say so. Mostly, I'm just grateful it wasn't worse. I heard people comparing it to Japan today. For the record, that's RIDICULOUS. For the more precise recordkeepers: the earthquake in Japan was approximately 60,000 times more powerful. So, enough about that already.
Next, I'm grateful today because I had a flat tire. No, wait. I'm serious. You see, I had a flat tire and the repair was FREE. Awesome. Always pay the few extra dollars for the warranty ALWAYS.
I had Panera Bread for dinner tonight. I haven't been there in months. It's like coming home. I wonder if I added up all the time I've spent in Panera bread how many months it would add up to be? A panini there sometimes feels a little like home - you know, like that favorite meal in your family? Like the thing you can totally rely on? This is weird and it's a chain and I'm a weirdo. We've already been over this though. I'm a freak and I'm not afraid to say so. Also, I like broccoli cheddar soup. Yum.
Next, I made a quick stop at Hancock where I bought an as seen on tv item. This was not planned. I was just going to buy some needles because I broke my last one last week. I thought I might just buy some cute little sewing kit and then have a place to keep it all together. Would you believe that a sewing kit was $25. I was having NONE of that. THEN, I found the One Second Needle. "It threads itself!". You know what else is amazing about the One Second Needle? It comes with several amazing needles AND a free sewing kit. Also amazing: it doesn't cost $25. It costs $8. Only $2 more than the plain, boring package of needles I was going to buy. Check me out. I win.
Finally, I got home and had managed to get dinner, run errands, resolve a flat tire, and be home by 9 pm with hours to spare to finish my laundry tonight. Awesome.
Also, when I got home Real Simple was waiting for me. Magazines make me happy - especially Real Simple. So, now I'm going to post this blog and go be lazy and read about 91 Classic Styles for All Budgets and Bodies. Life. Is. Good.
So let's get right out with the obvious thing first. Let me do what everyone is doing and say:
EARTHQUAKE!!!!
There was an earthquake in VA that was felt by much of the east coast today. Now that we have that out of the way, can I admit something super weird? I kind of liked it. I mean, I'm no storm chaser. I don't ever want anyone getting hurt and any damage - even slight - that may have been caused is sad. Still, haven't you always been a little curious? What does it feel like? What would I do? What would the people around me do? So, there you have it. I'm a freak and I'm not afraid to say so. Mostly, I'm just grateful it wasn't worse. I heard people comparing it to Japan today. For the record, that's RIDICULOUS. For the more precise recordkeepers: the earthquake in Japan was approximately 60,000 times more powerful. So, enough about that already.
Next, I'm grateful today because I had a flat tire. No, wait. I'm serious. You see, I had a flat tire and the repair was FREE. Awesome. Always pay the few extra dollars for the warranty ALWAYS.
I had Panera Bread for dinner tonight. I haven't been there in months. It's like coming home. I wonder if I added up all the time I've spent in Panera bread how many months it would add up to be? A panini there sometimes feels a little like home - you know, like that favorite meal in your family? Like the thing you can totally rely on? This is weird and it's a chain and I'm a weirdo. We've already been over this though. I'm a freak and I'm not afraid to say so. Also, I like broccoli cheddar soup. Yum.
Next, I made a quick stop at Hancock where I bought an as seen on tv item. This was not planned. I was just going to buy some needles because I broke my last one last week. I thought I might just buy some cute little sewing kit and then have a place to keep it all together. Would you believe that a sewing kit was $25. I was having NONE of that. THEN, I found the One Second Needle. "It threads itself!". You know what else is amazing about the One Second Needle? It comes with several amazing needles AND a free sewing kit. Also amazing: it doesn't cost $25. It costs $8. Only $2 more than the plain, boring package of needles I was going to buy. Check me out. I win.
Finally, I got home and had managed to get dinner, run errands, resolve a flat tire, and be home by 9 pm with hours to spare to finish my laundry tonight. Awesome.
Also, when I got home Real Simple was waiting for me. Magazines make me happy - especially Real Simple. So, now I'm going to post this blog and go be lazy and read about 91 Classic Styles for All Budgets and Bodies. Life. Is. Good.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Transportation Spoiled.
I love my car. Can we just start with that? I love having a car in general, but I especially love MY car. It makes me smile. It's basically a toy. Unlike most of my life, it's more fun than practical. I wanted it before I could even drive and now, it makes me happy to see it when I walk out the back door.
Currently though, it is sick. Apparently, I abused it. I didn't mean to. I've found my way through some intense DC potholes though. So, ok, maybe there is some explanation for damage down under. (That's not abuse then right? I try hard not to abuse Bugsy. I love Bugsy!) Luckily, when your car is sickly and it's an abuse case instead of just old age, insurance comes to your rescue and it pays for a rental car and you don't have to panic quite as much when the nice man talks aboout skid plates and transmission oil and valve bodies and other words you don't understand even though the kind, patient man is talking very slowly without even being too condescending really. Always give in and pay the few extra dollars for rental coverage, all of life can be better. Although you'd much rather be driving Bugsy and have Bugsy home and safe and away from scary Dr. McDealership.
The thing is, until you know what's wrong, you won't pay for a rental car because you might not be reimbursed and that's a giant waste. Especially if you're flying out of town anyway. So, you'll probably just be grateful for the extensive public transportation options. You'll get your SmartTrip card and not think twice about existing without your car for an evening before you fly out. You'll think to yourself: "Home is only 3 miles from here. The bus will be quick and painless." You will end this experience with a newfound respect for all those who survive the bus system daily. I could have walked home twice in the time it took me... First, I missed the bus - the very efficient, 3 minutes early bus, by approximately 3 minutes. Oh well, the bus runs every half-an-hour. Sit at the bus stop. Play Words with Friends obsessively. Wonder why the bus never comes. Realize that bus was the last before the route changes to hourly for the night.
Wait. Pout. Wait.
Get on the bus! Get thrown off the bus at a random metro stop. Hmm. "WHAT? What is going on?" End of her shift. The guy who takes over her route on the next shift? Already left the station. (Sadness.)
So, what the heck metro stop is this? Not the line you live on? RUN. If you RUN you might catch the very, very last transfer. You might meet some lost kids on the platform. "Yes, of course I will show you where to go like a helpful, friendly local!" (Who is in the midst of an giant transportation fail all her own...). "Oh, yes, totally can get you there. That's my line, follow me, we'll switch together and you'll just stay on a few stops after me. Wait. Don't get on that train. No. No. Blue, not orange!" Oh dear. Why didn't they follow me? Guilt. Bad local! You let the children go astray. Good luck lost children. Someday this will be a funny memory of what happens after Taylor Swift concerts in the big city.
Can I just say, I am grateful for my car often - because I love it and it is cute and generally reliable. However, I have crazy, insane respect for you public transportation regulars. Apparently, I suck at it. Kudos to you and your patience and switch savvy. Well executed with your getting home alive and without crying every day.
Currently though, it is sick. Apparently, I abused it. I didn't mean to. I've found my way through some intense DC potholes though. So, ok, maybe there is some explanation for damage down under. (That's not abuse then right? I try hard not to abuse Bugsy. I love Bugsy!) Luckily, when your car is sickly and it's an abuse case instead of just old age, insurance comes to your rescue and it pays for a rental car and you don't have to panic quite as much when the nice man talks aboout skid plates and transmission oil and valve bodies and other words you don't understand even though the kind, patient man is talking very slowly without even being too condescending really. Always give in and pay the few extra dollars for rental coverage, all of life can be better. Although you'd much rather be driving Bugsy and have Bugsy home and safe and away from scary Dr. McDealership.
The thing is, until you know what's wrong, you won't pay for a rental car because you might not be reimbursed and that's a giant waste. Especially if you're flying out of town anyway. So, you'll probably just be grateful for the extensive public transportation options. You'll get your SmartTrip card and not think twice about existing without your car for an evening before you fly out. You'll think to yourself: "Home is only 3 miles from here. The bus will be quick and painless." You will end this experience with a newfound respect for all those who survive the bus system daily. I could have walked home twice in the time it took me... First, I missed the bus - the very efficient, 3 minutes early bus, by approximately 3 minutes. Oh well, the bus runs every half-an-hour. Sit at the bus stop. Play Words with Friends obsessively. Wonder why the bus never comes. Realize that bus was the last before the route changes to hourly for the night.
Wait. Pout. Wait.
Get on the bus! Get thrown off the bus at a random metro stop. Hmm. "WHAT? What is going on?" End of her shift. The guy who takes over her route on the next shift? Already left the station. (Sadness.)
So, what the heck metro stop is this? Not the line you live on? RUN. If you RUN you might catch the very, very last transfer. You might meet some lost kids on the platform. "Yes, of course I will show you where to go like a helpful, friendly local!" (Who is in the midst of an giant transportation fail all her own...). "Oh, yes, totally can get you there. That's my line, follow me, we'll switch together and you'll just stay on a few stops after me. Wait. Don't get on that train. No. No. Blue, not orange!" Oh dear. Why didn't they follow me? Guilt. Bad local! You let the children go astray. Good luck lost children. Someday this will be a funny memory of what happens after Taylor Swift concerts in the big city.
Can I just say, I am grateful for my car often - because I love it and it is cute and generally reliable. However, I have crazy, insane respect for you public transportation regulars. Apparently, I suck at it. Kudos to you and your patience and switch savvy. Well executed with your getting home alive and without crying every day.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Agua Fresca
Everyone say it aloud... Agua Fresca. Ahhhg-wah Fray-ska. It is refreshing just to say it. Mmmm. Doesn't it make you want to say it over and over out loud? Do it. Right now. I'm waiting... (I don't care if people can hear you. It will be refreshing for them also!). Good job with that.
I always forget how much I like Agua Fresca and speaking Spanish until I do, and then I wonder why I don't just get my act together and remember to practice those very rusty skills while drinking something refreshing and culturally appropriate for the learning process.
Anyway... Agua fresca isn't about speaking Spanish tonight - it's about how I was drinking Mexican tonight. No, not Corona. Get your mind off the alcohol for just a hot minute people. Agua fresca is refreshing fruit water. Whatever fruit you want, maybe some sugar - less if the fruit is riper, maybe some lime if you want to give your fruit of choice a kick. Put some water in the blender with the fruit. Is it chunky/pulpy? Does that bug you? You could pour it through a sieve. Then drink it really, really extra cold - sometimes with crushed ice because crushed ice makes everything just a little better. Yum. That's the least detailed recipe ever. I blame my Grandmother for this. She taught me to cook more than anyone and her directions involved handfuls and pinches and tasting and smelling. She was quite good at this system, but when someone asked me to call her for a recipe it wasn't always the most productive conversation. I'm serious about Agua Fresca though, that's all you need to know. And this is not a cooking blog. So don't ask me for a more detailed recipe. I just want to brag that I made canteloupe agua fresca tonight. I had it with lime and smiling. (And fajitas!) We toasted with it. Fun-ness.
I love to cook - especially for other people. I just find it pathetic to cook for one person most of the time. So, I don't always do it - or I eat the same thing repeatedly. So, from time to time I get my act together and invite over some friends, because I like them and I like to cook for them. I love that I have a tiny kitchen all my own (and my roommates', but you know, details - they're rarely home...). And I live in a place where I have friends nearby are almost always up for an adventure or a chill evening or whatever nonsense we come up with for the night.
Also, in some cases, I cook because I have purchased a new food processor/blender combo that is named Ninja. How can you put off using an appliance called Ninja? It seems dangerous to mess with Ninja. It will chop you up. Literally. You will try to clean it between uses and then, although you've only cut your thumb the tiniest bit, you will bleed for a very long time. You will feel like you should sit down. You will be sad that you are delaying the finishing of cooking and getting to drink the agua fresca. You will think in your head how people will be there any minute and dinner will not be ready. Still, sometimes you have to just sit there and bleed for a while. You may NOT by any means go back to cooking while bleeding. Criminal Act of Grossness.
In other news, if you get too excited about the ease of pushing the Ninja button you may have very creamy guacamole when you really meant to have slightly chunky guacamole. Oh well. (You win creamy guac. Blended yourself right into my heart, ok? I think I might have you for breakfast... Once upon a time, I didn't think I liked guacamole and my roommate told me she wanted to have guacamole's baby. I'm beginning to understand her point.). It's ok. Don't give up. Love the Ninja. Bond with the Ninja. Let it help you make salsa and pineapple mango popsicles. Let it dice the onions for you. Don't cry. You barely even have to touch them at all. It's ok.
Then, sit around and eat all your Ninja-ed food with some of your favorite people and be grateful for your life ok? It will make for a really good evening especially if you have a popsicle on the couch with the girls and talk about Mother Goose on the Loose and the Story Line. It will be great - even if your popsicle breaks in half and you have to stick it back on the stick all ghetto fabulous. It tastes better that way. Try it.
Try it all. I dare you. You'll like it. (Ok, maybe don't try the bleeding...)
Hope everyone's Friday night was as refreshing as mine.
Good night! Sueno con los angelitos.
I always forget how much I like Agua Fresca and speaking Spanish until I do, and then I wonder why I don't just get my act together and remember to practice those very rusty skills while drinking something refreshing and culturally appropriate for the learning process.
Anyway... Agua fresca isn't about speaking Spanish tonight - it's about how I was drinking Mexican tonight. No, not Corona. Get your mind off the alcohol for just a hot minute people. Agua fresca is refreshing fruit water. Whatever fruit you want, maybe some sugar - less if the fruit is riper, maybe some lime if you want to give your fruit of choice a kick. Put some water in the blender with the fruit. Is it chunky/pulpy? Does that bug you? You could pour it through a sieve. Then drink it really, really extra cold - sometimes with crushed ice because crushed ice makes everything just a little better. Yum. That's the least detailed recipe ever. I blame my Grandmother for this. She taught me to cook more than anyone and her directions involved handfuls and pinches and tasting and smelling. She was quite good at this system, but when someone asked me to call her for a recipe it wasn't always the most productive conversation. I'm serious about Agua Fresca though, that's all you need to know. And this is not a cooking blog. So don't ask me for a more detailed recipe. I just want to brag that I made canteloupe agua fresca tonight. I had it with lime and smiling. (And fajitas!) We toasted with it. Fun-ness.
I love to cook - especially for other people. I just find it pathetic to cook for one person most of the time. So, I don't always do it - or I eat the same thing repeatedly. So, from time to time I get my act together and invite over some friends, because I like them and I like to cook for them. I love that I have a tiny kitchen all my own (and my roommates', but you know, details - they're rarely home...). And I live in a place where I have friends nearby are almost always up for an adventure or a chill evening or whatever nonsense we come up with for the night.
Also, in some cases, I cook because I have purchased a new food processor/blender combo that is named Ninja. How can you put off using an appliance called Ninja? It seems dangerous to mess with Ninja. It will chop you up. Literally. You will try to clean it between uses and then, although you've only cut your thumb the tiniest bit, you will bleed for a very long time. You will feel like you should sit down. You will be sad that you are delaying the finishing of cooking and getting to drink the agua fresca. You will think in your head how people will be there any minute and dinner will not be ready. Still, sometimes you have to just sit there and bleed for a while. You may NOT by any means go back to cooking while bleeding. Criminal Act of Grossness.
In other news, if you get too excited about the ease of pushing the Ninja button you may have very creamy guacamole when you really meant to have slightly chunky guacamole. Oh well. (You win creamy guac. Blended yourself right into my heart, ok? I think I might have you for breakfast... Once upon a time, I didn't think I liked guacamole and my roommate told me she wanted to have guacamole's baby. I'm beginning to understand her point.). It's ok. Don't give up. Love the Ninja. Bond with the Ninja. Let it help you make salsa and pineapple mango popsicles. Let it dice the onions for you. Don't cry. You barely even have to touch them at all. It's ok.
Then, sit around and eat all your Ninja-ed food with some of your favorite people and be grateful for your life ok? It will make for a really good evening especially if you have a popsicle on the couch with the girls and talk about Mother Goose on the Loose and the Story Line. It will be great - even if your popsicle breaks in half and you have to stick it back on the stick all ghetto fabulous. It tastes better that way. Try it.
Try it all. I dare you. You'll like it. (Ok, maybe don't try the bleeding...)
Hope everyone's Friday night was as refreshing as mine.
Good night! Sueno con los angelitos.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
If I only had an airplane...
Last week, I was reminded of how very, very much I love to fly. I love the whole travelling experience, but I really especially love airplanes and airports. This dawned on me even despite flight delays that caused waiting and crazy transfers only to rush to a plane that would sit on the runway for a repair for an hour. Still - love.
I think the first reason is: I sleep on planes like I sleep nowhere else. As soon as a plane takes off I can often slip immediately off to sleep - out cold until someone crashes into me with a drink cart. It's extraordinary. You have your own air conditioning vent. Your seat is uncomfortable, but you don't care, because you are being soothed by the rhythm of flight as you zoom through the clouds. I think it's like the washing machine/drive around the block affect on some infants. You know how when some kids don't sleep parents stick them in a car seat and drive around or simulate the driving rhythm by sticking the car seat on the washing machine? It's like that. Ahhh.
Plus, when you're awake on an airplane, you have absolutely no responsibilities. You can watch the tiny tv, you can read a book, you can listen to your iPod and do nothing else, you can do 15 sudoko puzzles, or you can just stare aimlessly into space. Nobody blames you for being unproductive on a plane. No guilt at all - not even from yourself.
And airports, are magical places too. First, you know you have a really good nap to look forward to (did I mention how well I sleep on planes?). You can always get coffee there - and you won't even feel guilty for spending $74 on coffee because at the airport, $74 is the status quo. Water? Soda? Juice? All $74. You may as well get the expensive coffee drink. It's all the same. There are stores at airports full of things nobody really needs. Things you aren't allowed to carry through security - forbidden items. Things that cost too much and you've never heard of. Weird things, animal print luggage, and gadgets that have irresistably interesting purposes that nobody would use in their real life. You don't have to buy these things - you shouldn't - they're expensive and/or useless. You could buy them though - and that's really the point.
Airports are also filled with interesting people speaking a multitude of beautiful languages. Also with hilariously exhausted people who hate their lives (Don't they know what great places airports are?) And families having fights over who has to sit next to whom. And businessmen who talk to themselves (bluetooth or schizophrenia? Bluetooth? Maybe...). And tired, crying girls who just really want to go home but their flight was delayed 15 minutes and they just can't handle it. Ahh people. You are so interesting and you put all your crazy right out where I can watch it in the airport. I love you all.
In summary, I would like an airplane all my own to fly me around at night and land as my alarm clock and then give me free orange juice, because we all know you can't buy $6 orange juice in the airport. My only concern with this plan is it seems rather wasteful and I'll never do it - again, guilt (is this a theme tonight? What the heck?). Perhaps I can work out some system where I fly missionaries and those in need of life changing surgeries around while I sleep. Better right? Than I can sleep well and with a good conscience. This plan needs to be more fully developed, but I think I may be on to something.
Good night world - enough airplane rambling. I'm off to bed, even though nobody will fly me to sleep - Yet...
I think the first reason is: I sleep on planes like I sleep nowhere else. As soon as a plane takes off I can often slip immediately off to sleep - out cold until someone crashes into me with a drink cart. It's extraordinary. You have your own air conditioning vent. Your seat is uncomfortable, but you don't care, because you are being soothed by the rhythm of flight as you zoom through the clouds. I think it's like the washing machine/drive around the block affect on some infants. You know how when some kids don't sleep parents stick them in a car seat and drive around or simulate the driving rhythm by sticking the car seat on the washing machine? It's like that. Ahhh.
Plus, when you're awake on an airplane, you have absolutely no responsibilities. You can watch the tiny tv, you can read a book, you can listen to your iPod and do nothing else, you can do 15 sudoko puzzles, or you can just stare aimlessly into space. Nobody blames you for being unproductive on a plane. No guilt at all - not even from yourself.
And airports, are magical places too. First, you know you have a really good nap to look forward to (did I mention how well I sleep on planes?). You can always get coffee there - and you won't even feel guilty for spending $74 on coffee because at the airport, $74 is the status quo. Water? Soda? Juice? All $74. You may as well get the expensive coffee drink. It's all the same. There are stores at airports full of things nobody really needs. Things you aren't allowed to carry through security - forbidden items. Things that cost too much and you've never heard of. Weird things, animal print luggage, and gadgets that have irresistably interesting purposes that nobody would use in their real life. You don't have to buy these things - you shouldn't - they're expensive and/or useless. You could buy them though - and that's really the point.
Airports are also filled with interesting people speaking a multitude of beautiful languages. Also with hilariously exhausted people who hate their lives (Don't they know what great places airports are?) And families having fights over who has to sit next to whom. And businessmen who talk to themselves (bluetooth or schizophrenia? Bluetooth? Maybe...). And tired, crying girls who just really want to go home but their flight was delayed 15 minutes and they just can't handle it. Ahh people. You are so interesting and you put all your crazy right out where I can watch it in the airport. I love you all.
In summary, I would like an airplane all my own to fly me around at night and land as my alarm clock and then give me free orange juice, because we all know you can't buy $6 orange juice in the airport. My only concern with this plan is it seems rather wasteful and I'll never do it - again, guilt (is this a theme tonight? What the heck?). Perhaps I can work out some system where I fly missionaries and those in need of life changing surgeries around while I sleep. Better right? Than I can sleep well and with a good conscience. This plan needs to be more fully developed, but I think I may be on to something.
Good night world - enough airplane rambling. I'm off to bed, even though nobody will fly me to sleep - Yet...
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Love Dove Y'all
I have been in Birmingham, Alabama for work this week. It's been busy, but I've really enjoyed it. I love my job. I love the people I work with. I get to do something that matters to me and I often get to do it with people who it also really matters to. Cool right? Enough gushing though. My life is often more awesome than I deserve, but that's not what this is about...
This is about the south and how it is, well, the south is, errmm, south of what I'm used to. In good ways. Happy, quirky ways.
I love to travel internationally, but I forget sometimes how much I also love to be reminded of the many cultures in the U.S. and the south certainly has its own - in fact, it has many little subcultures. Birmingham is just a little different than the Alabama I'd previous experienced. It is its own distinct world. I have always heard good things, but had never been here. I'd been with people from here - and enjoyed them, but encountering a culture is not quite the same as immersion.
Since I've been here I've been reminded of many things some that seem like southern constants and others that are a little unique. Here are a few of them that caught my attention.
People love meat - BBQ to be precise. It's everywhere and it means business.
People are friendly - nearly without exception. They make all kinds of eye contact with smiling and nodding and happiness. They want to know how your day is and they have no idea who you are. They are helpful when it is totally inconvenient. We asked directions and a man got in his truck and showed us the way somewhere. It was perplexingly delightful.
People are affectionate. Let me be clear. They are physically affectionate. We're not talking PDA here. It is an overflow of that same kindness and care for strangers that gets you a genuinely interested: "how are you". It also totally removes that bubble of personal space that we don't generally invade in the north. And I really like my bubble, more than most people. I try to immerse though - accept the culture - blend. So, I let the shuttle driver who picked me up from the airport hug me - along with approximately eleventy billion other complete strangers in the last 3 days. It's so sincere. I'd hate to offend it, even if it is all up in my business all the time.
Nonsense is accepted, encouraged, and adored. Complete nonsense. Words that aren't words. Phrases that don't technically mean anything - mostly, terms of endearments. I have been called the run of the mill things: darlin', sweetie, sugar, etc... I have also been called "love dove." What is that? Adorable. I can't ever say it out loud, but they can. And it doesn't even seem odd because they own it. I could never own "love dove" with a straight face.
Birmingham has an extra dose of modern class to match its southern charm. There is an extra civilized air to it all. Serious business is going on around there - without taking themselves too seriously (DC can take itself SO seriously!). There are parts that are really aware of what is chic while holding on to what is charming. I was in a neighborhood called Homewood for dinner last night and somehow this neighborhood managed to be trendy - even a little edgy while being perfectly quaint. Adorable shopfronts line the streets and the stores are full of classic home goods and clothing alongside trendy uniqueness. Storefronts sit alongside traditional local restaurants (we ate at a 4th generation Italian restaurant) peppered amongst them are the trendy cutting edget stuff of "now" - sushi, tart yogurt, cupcakes.
Would love to do Birmingham again sometime - with a little more exploring and a little less working in a hotel conference room (who am I kidding? I love that part too.)
But I'm still looking forward to going home and having a weekend. Life is good.
I love dove it y'all. (and I'm not even sure what that means...)
This is about the south and how it is, well, the south is, errmm, south of what I'm used to. In good ways. Happy, quirky ways.
I love to travel internationally, but I forget sometimes how much I also love to be reminded of the many cultures in the U.S. and the south certainly has its own - in fact, it has many little subcultures. Birmingham is just a little different than the Alabama I'd previous experienced. It is its own distinct world. I have always heard good things, but had never been here. I'd been with people from here - and enjoyed them, but encountering a culture is not quite the same as immersion.
Since I've been here I've been reminded of many things some that seem like southern constants and others that are a little unique. Here are a few of them that caught my attention.
People love meat - BBQ to be precise. It's everywhere and it means business.
People are friendly - nearly without exception. They make all kinds of eye contact with smiling and nodding and happiness. They want to know how your day is and they have no idea who you are. They are helpful when it is totally inconvenient. We asked directions and a man got in his truck and showed us the way somewhere. It was perplexingly delightful.
People are affectionate. Let me be clear. They are physically affectionate. We're not talking PDA here. It is an overflow of that same kindness and care for strangers that gets you a genuinely interested: "how are you". It also totally removes that bubble of personal space that we don't generally invade in the north. And I really like my bubble, more than most people. I try to immerse though - accept the culture - blend. So, I let the shuttle driver who picked me up from the airport hug me - along with approximately eleventy billion other complete strangers in the last 3 days. It's so sincere. I'd hate to offend it, even if it is all up in my business all the time.
Nonsense is accepted, encouraged, and adored. Complete nonsense. Words that aren't words. Phrases that don't technically mean anything - mostly, terms of endearments. I have been called the run of the mill things: darlin', sweetie, sugar, etc... I have also been called "love dove." What is that? Adorable. I can't ever say it out loud, but they can. And it doesn't even seem odd because they own it. I could never own "love dove" with a straight face.
Birmingham has an extra dose of modern class to match its southern charm. There is an extra civilized air to it all. Serious business is going on around there - without taking themselves too seriously (DC can take itself SO seriously!). There are parts that are really aware of what is chic while holding on to what is charming. I was in a neighborhood called Homewood for dinner last night and somehow this neighborhood managed to be trendy - even a little edgy while being perfectly quaint. Adorable shopfronts line the streets and the stores are full of classic home goods and clothing alongside trendy uniqueness. Storefronts sit alongside traditional local restaurants (we ate at a 4th generation Italian restaurant) peppered amongst them are the trendy cutting edget stuff of "now" - sushi, tart yogurt, cupcakes.
Would love to do Birmingham again sometime - with a little more exploring and a little less working in a hotel conference room (who am I kidding? I love that part too.)
But I'm still looking forward to going home and having a weekend. Life is good.
I love dove it y'all. (and I'm not even sure what that means...)
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Party necessary.
Do you want to know something top secret? So top secret that almost everyone who has ever been in my home already knows? I'm a mess. Now, don't get me wrong, I clean things. There is no mold growing anywhere, dishes go directly into the dishwasher 98% of the time, and I regularly clean the bathroom, vacuum, and even occasionally dust (although I swear it is an act of futility in my house). I am the cluttery, I don't put my stuff away, kind of mess.
I can't seem to stop either. I tried. I bought very open furniture when I moved last. My desk and bookshelf are all open boxes. I thought if everything was visible I'd be more concerned about keeping it neat. These are the lies I tell myself. I do not keep it clean. I can just see the mess. I am, however, considering buying some of those cute doors you can add to my furniture to hide the mess.
The only true solution is to have a party. And, not just a pizza and a dvd with the girls kind of party - a real party, preferrably with men. There have to be guys to really guilt me into cleaning off my desk, putting away the random assortment of products in the bathroom, and, most importantly, picking up all stray laundry off the floor.
You see, my bathroom is in the basement. My bedroom must be passed through to arrive at said bathroom. All stray clothing must be hidden for a man to pass through. Guilt and shame are good motivators.
Also, I like to cook for people. AND I have this great plan where I borrow a projector (from an unnamed source that may or may not employ me.) in order to project a movie onto the back of my house. There will be popcorn and homemade ice cream and probably raisinets and definitely red vines. I can't decide yet on the movie though. Something with mass appeal (low violence, high laughter). Suggestions anyone? If you choose the winning movie you will be invited to the party for sure. Especially if you are a man, because, well you know...
And now I feel like I better go clean something before I sleep...
I can't seem to stop either. I tried. I bought very open furniture when I moved last. My desk and bookshelf are all open boxes. I thought if everything was visible I'd be more concerned about keeping it neat. These are the lies I tell myself. I do not keep it clean. I can just see the mess. I am, however, considering buying some of those cute doors you can add to my furniture to hide the mess.
The only true solution is to have a party. And, not just a pizza and a dvd with the girls kind of party - a real party, preferrably with men. There have to be guys to really guilt me into cleaning off my desk, putting away the random assortment of products in the bathroom, and, most importantly, picking up all stray laundry off the floor.
You see, my bathroom is in the basement. My bedroom must be passed through to arrive at said bathroom. All stray clothing must be hidden for a man to pass through. Guilt and shame are good motivators.
Also, I like to cook for people. AND I have this great plan where I borrow a projector (from an unnamed source that may or may not employ me.) in order to project a movie onto the back of my house. There will be popcorn and homemade ice cream and probably raisinets and definitely red vines. I can't decide yet on the movie though. Something with mass appeal (low violence, high laughter). Suggestions anyone? If you choose the winning movie you will be invited to the party for sure. Especially if you are a man, because, well you know...
And now I feel like I better go clean something before I sleep...
Friday, July 29, 2011
Sometimes on Friday nights...
Sometimes on a Friday night I like to work until the sun comes up. Wait, that's not it...
Seriously though, sometimes I like to do NOTHING. Literally, nothing. When nothing is planned on a Friday night sometimes I like to go home, put on pajamas, watch 3 movies I've seen over and over, play a stupid game on my phone, and order pizza and eat it in the dark because it's too hot for cooking or excess use of electricity.
Then I begin to question my behavior. I could call someone. I could make them dinner. I could not spend money on pizza. I could be less anti-social. I could go outside (No, too far. According to Bugsy, it was 102 when I came home earlier - plus the marshland type humidity. Eww.). I could read a book. I could do some work. I could clean my house. I should have had a salad.
I could put in another movie and distract myself. Oooh! and look! Someone responded on Words With Friends. (Shameless Friday Slug!)
I'll be productive tomorrow, and maybe I'll go outside. I'm far too white for the amount of sun available. My legs are opaque. You shouldn't look like that in a dress and you can't not wear a dress when it is this hot. You'll die. (Why is summer so long? Fall, come to me!)
And whatever you do, don't try to ride that new bike for more than 20 minutes. You'll die then too. What were you thinking?
Happy weekend people! Do something you love or do nothing at all and love that.
Seriously though, sometimes I like to do NOTHING. Literally, nothing. When nothing is planned on a Friday night sometimes I like to go home, put on pajamas, watch 3 movies I've seen over and over, play a stupid game on my phone, and order pizza and eat it in the dark because it's too hot for cooking or excess use of electricity.
Then I begin to question my behavior. I could call someone. I could make them dinner. I could not spend money on pizza. I could be less anti-social. I could go outside (No, too far. According to Bugsy, it was 102 when I came home earlier - plus the marshland type humidity. Eww.). I could read a book. I could do some work. I could clean my house. I should have had a salad.
I could put in another movie and distract myself. Oooh! and look! Someone responded on Words With Friends. (Shameless Friday Slug!)
I'll be productive tomorrow, and maybe I'll go outside. I'm far too white for the amount of sun available. My legs are opaque. You shouldn't look like that in a dress and you can't not wear a dress when it is this hot. You'll die. (Why is summer so long? Fall, come to me!)
And whatever you do, don't try to ride that new bike for more than 20 minutes. You'll die then too. What were you thinking?
Happy weekend people! Do something you love or do nothing at all and love that.
Monday, July 25, 2011
It IS "just like riding a bike". It IS!! Eventually anyway...
Saturday, I went to inspect bicycle options. I found one that meets the basic needs - which were pretty basic - no triathlons in my near future. Basically, it needed wheels and a seat that didn't look like torture. I found some reasonable options online, but did NOT want to put together a bike. I decided it would be far more frustrating than fulfilling (sometimes I like to conquer projects, but...). I found one that had wheels, was put together, and was on sale - dream bike. It's only downfall was its pinkness. It has some silverness for counterbalance, but still, significant pinkness - and I am not a Barbie girl in a Barbie world. I am cheap though, so I got over it - mostly...
I didn't buy the bike Saturday though, for a couple reasons. First, I fear impulse purchases. Apparently even ones that are actually pretty planned. More significantly though, it occurred to me that I wasn't sure the last time I rode a bike. I remember really liking it as a kid and I can see the value of the exercise and convenience where I live. So, it seemed like a great plan. However, the last time I can recall riding was in college while camping with a friend's family. I also remember falling off, twice, at least... (In my defense, this bike belonged to my friend's brother and reaching both pedals at once was a bit challenging for my significantly-shorter-than-his legs.). I'd had this thought before, but thought, surely I'll be fine. This is why people say: "it's just like riding a bike". Still if you stand next to this rather unassuming piece of metal in the store, you might panic and think to yourself: "a bike?" "Will that hold me up?" "Are you sure they don't only hold up small children and Lance Armstrong?" "Can I remain upright?" "I can rarely make it through a day without walking into a wall!" Ok, it may not have been quite this dramatic. (No, it was. It sounded just like that inside of my head.). So, I decided I better try to ride a bike before I invested a lot of money into something I'd get on only to immediately break both of my arms and legs (Ok fine, maybe I'd just skin my knee. Still unappealing!). So, I borrowed my roommate's bike. And it was a delightful experience completely lacking in injuries of any sort. Of course it was. "It's just like riding a bike." Most people believe this. I have issues...
So, Sunday I bought the bike. I rode the bike (briefly, it was 100 degrees outside. Eww.). I'm going to love the bike, despite its pinkness. (I'm going to embrace its pinkness. "Come on Barbie, let's go party!") I'm delighted by its presence in my life - like a small child with a new bike (growing up is overrated.). I even cleaned out the shed to give it a home and bought it a fancy lock and a cool flashy light (because we know I'll ride at night. It's inevitable.). I'm going to be the coolest biker in town (No, no I'm not cool. I know. Let me just believe this for 5 minutes though ok?)
I'm so glad it's really "just like riding a bike." It's nice to have things you can depend on - even when you don't.
I didn't buy the bike Saturday though, for a couple reasons. First, I fear impulse purchases. Apparently even ones that are actually pretty planned. More significantly though, it occurred to me that I wasn't sure the last time I rode a bike. I remember really liking it as a kid and I can see the value of the exercise and convenience where I live. So, it seemed like a great plan. However, the last time I can recall riding was in college while camping with a friend's family. I also remember falling off, twice, at least... (In my defense, this bike belonged to my friend's brother and reaching both pedals at once was a bit challenging for my significantly-shorter-than-his legs.). I'd had this thought before, but thought, surely I'll be fine. This is why people say: "it's just like riding a bike". Still if you stand next to this rather unassuming piece of metal in the store, you might panic and think to yourself: "a bike?" "Will that hold me up?" "Are you sure they don't only hold up small children and Lance Armstrong?" "Can I remain upright?" "I can rarely make it through a day without walking into a wall!" Ok, it may not have been quite this dramatic. (No, it was. It sounded just like that inside of my head.). So, I decided I better try to ride a bike before I invested a lot of money into something I'd get on only to immediately break both of my arms and legs (Ok fine, maybe I'd just skin my knee. Still unappealing!). So, I borrowed my roommate's bike. And it was a delightful experience completely lacking in injuries of any sort. Of course it was. "It's just like riding a bike." Most people believe this. I have issues...
So, Sunday I bought the bike. I rode the bike (briefly, it was 100 degrees outside. Eww.). I'm going to love the bike, despite its pinkness. (I'm going to embrace its pinkness. "Come on Barbie, let's go party!") I'm delighted by its presence in my life - like a small child with a new bike (growing up is overrated.). I even cleaned out the shed to give it a home and bought it a fancy lock and a cool flashy light (because we know I'll ride at night. It's inevitable.). I'm going to be the coolest biker in town (No, no I'm not cool. I know. Let me just believe this for 5 minutes though ok?)
I'm so glad it's really "just like riding a bike." It's nice to have things you can depend on - even when you don't.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Weekend-ing myself into a "relaxed" frenzy
I haven't had a real weekend since... Sigh. Let's not talk about it. Too. Long.
All week, I have been vey excited about this coming weekend. I had ZERO real obligations. Really. Not one. This means, of course, that I planned 215 things to do. Suddenly, this afternoon I realized I was a little stressed out about all the things I wanted to do this weekend when I had nothing to do. I hope to...
Finish a book and a half
Clean out the shed
Clean my house (suitcases and laundry have taken OVER)
Wash the humidity glued pollen-y grossness off my windows
Get my oil changed and do some other car maintenance-y type stuff
Wash my car (no small feat without a hose, a designated parking spot, and with a slightly quirky window situation. Remarkably, there are like zero self-wash car places around. I'd shell out the quarters, but it seems nobody wants my quarters. Perhaps this needs some further googling...)
Spend time with several friends
Cook at home - store some for next week's lunches (I am the worst lunch packer. For example, today: ginger snaps and leftover conference Sunchips. "Umm. Grow up Megan!" I hear you. I know, I know. I'm trying...)
Buy a bicycle (or at least investigate/order one)
Investigate the purchase of a bicycle rack that might fit on my tiny, tiny car without causing it harm
Lay in the sun somewhere green (Anywhere but my woodchipped backyard!)
Actually GO to church - not listen to it on the internet from somewhere else (in my pajamas)
Sleep in
I think that last one may have to go if there is hope for the rest of the list. Actually, I think I've decided that I'm firmly commited to refusing to commit to any of these activities or much of a schedule (which would be the only way to get it all in.). Nothing on the list is time sensitive. Except maybe the oil change and friends and church. Hmm. See? Do you see this? Already thwarting my own commitment to uncommitment. Fail. I watched a movie and talked on the phone to a good friend tonight. Relaxation defined. I'm trying. One step at a time... I think I can talk myself into it...
Happy weekend to us all. Hope you're all getting a sincere break amongst your productivity and that you haven't overthought your weekends to the point of frenzied constant activitiy. Good luck to us all.
All week, I have been vey excited about this coming weekend. I had ZERO real obligations. Really. Not one. This means, of course, that I planned 215 things to do. Suddenly, this afternoon I realized I was a little stressed out about all the things I wanted to do this weekend when I had nothing to do. I hope to...
Finish a book and a half
Clean out the shed
Clean my house (suitcases and laundry have taken OVER)
Wash the humidity glued pollen-y grossness off my windows
Get my oil changed and do some other car maintenance-y type stuff
Wash my car (no small feat without a hose, a designated parking spot, and with a slightly quirky window situation. Remarkably, there are like zero self-wash car places around. I'd shell out the quarters, but it seems nobody wants my quarters. Perhaps this needs some further googling...)
Spend time with several friends
Cook at home - store some for next week's lunches (I am the worst lunch packer. For example, today: ginger snaps and leftover conference Sunchips. "Umm. Grow up Megan!" I hear you. I know, I know. I'm trying...)
Buy a bicycle (or at least investigate/order one)
Investigate the purchase of a bicycle rack that might fit on my tiny, tiny car without causing it harm
Lay in the sun somewhere green (Anywhere but my woodchipped backyard!)
Actually GO to church - not listen to it on the internet from somewhere else (in my pajamas)
Sleep in
I think that last one may have to go if there is hope for the rest of the list. Actually, I think I've decided that I'm firmly commited to refusing to commit to any of these activities or much of a schedule (which would be the only way to get it all in.). Nothing on the list is time sensitive. Except maybe the oil change and friends and church. Hmm. See? Do you see this? Already thwarting my own commitment to uncommitment. Fail. I watched a movie and talked on the phone to a good friend tonight. Relaxation defined. I'm trying. One step at a time... I think I can talk myself into it...
Happy weekend to us all. Hope you're all getting a sincere break amongst your productivity and that you haven't overthought your weekends to the point of frenzied constant activitiy. Good luck to us all.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
On Midnight's failure to mumble
I am really going to try not to be one of those people who only blogs every 3 months and people think: "Why does she even bother?" A two week break so early in things seems to say this intention is a bold-faced lie. I'm serious though. I can do better. This was not the average 2 weeks... Let me explain.
You see...
The week of July 4th was our National Adoption Conference at work. It was exhausting, but it was great. I love getting to be face-to-face with people who I talk to, work with, hear about, but hardly ever see. People who care about the things I care about and come together to be in the same place to learn to do the great things they do a little bit better. It's cool that these experienced servants let me be in their midst and it's great if we can give them an opportunity to come together and learn to be just a little bit better through the conference.
Then, sadly, my Grandmother passed away. I spent a hard, heartbreaking week in Florida with family. While it was good to reconnect with some people there, mostly it was frustrating and exhausting and sad and basically, just hard. I just got home tonight, and I'm still trying to take it all in. I'm not sure when or if I'll ever fully process it all, but I'm glad I went and I'm glad to be back home tonight with my own pillow and back to my normal schedule.
All that to say, sorry I deserted you bloggy-land. I didn't mean to. I had 2 full weeks and the 2nd, I was in a bit of an imposed internet detox. It was probably good for me, but it sure does feel like something's missing without my normal access.
Alright, that's all the mumbling for tonight. I'll be back though - sooner, really.
You see...
The week of July 4th was our National Adoption Conference at work. It was exhausting, but it was great. I love getting to be face-to-face with people who I talk to, work with, hear about, but hardly ever see. People who care about the things I care about and come together to be in the same place to learn to do the great things they do a little bit better. It's cool that these experienced servants let me be in their midst and it's great if we can give them an opportunity to come together and learn to be just a little bit better through the conference.
Then, sadly, my Grandmother passed away. I spent a hard, heartbreaking week in Florida with family. While it was good to reconnect with some people there, mostly it was frustrating and exhausting and sad and basically, just hard. I just got home tonight, and I'm still trying to take it all in. I'm not sure when or if I'll ever fully process it all, but I'm glad I went and I'm glad to be back home tonight with my own pillow and back to my normal schedule.
All that to say, sorry I deserted you bloggy-land. I didn't mean to. I had 2 full weeks and the 2nd, I was in a bit of an imposed internet detox. It was probably good for me, but it sure does feel like something's missing without my normal access.
Alright, that's all the mumbling for tonight. I'll be back though - sooner, really.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Fireworks + Monuments = Desire to Salute (but not tap dance)
May I just take a brief moment to say: Independence Day is cool. Profound right? My life is pretty great. I got to watch fireworks over the Potomac, on the National Mall, with the Washington Monument in front of me and the Capitol behind me. I got to do it with great friends and thousands of patriotic strangers gathered and grateful that we can do things like lay back in the grass in safety and freedom delighted by explosions of color and happiness and with little fear of less desirable explosions. Doesn't it make you just want to salute everyone you see, wear a shirt with a giant flag on it, and maybe learn to tap dance? You don't want to tap dance? Yeah, me either - too far... That's the beautiful thing! We can change our minds. We don't have to tap dance unless we want to. Freedom! The desire to salute things was pretty real though. I refrained, but just barely.
I did not refrain from singing God Bless America aloud to myself on the way home though. It was extra special because the top on my car was down and I was sitting in S-L-O-W traffic and it was a lovely evening and well... other people, also enjoying their convertible, heard. I really need to remember that I lose my bubble of privacy when that top is down. Oh well, we're all happier for it. They have a really good story about a weird girl belting out God Bless America on the bridge. I got to belt out God Bless America. Who needs to be embarassed? (Me, but this has so many bigger things to compete with on a regular basis that I probably won't even remember it tomorrow. Earlier today, I walked right into a sign post. See? Who cares about singing in traffic. Sign post in plain sight? Hilarious - what's wrong with me?)
Another good 4th of July tip free to you all: Never opt to participate in fireworks by radio instead of in person. It is not the same. I was reminded today of a funny memory of "watching" fireworks in bed with my Grandmother one Independence Day when I was 10 or 11. Enthusiastic gentleman narrated the colorful (or so we were told) bursts of sound. If given the option, don't choose radio - unless you can do it with your grandmother and laugh about it forever. Ridiculous makes some of the best memories.
I did not refrain from singing God Bless America aloud to myself on the way home though. It was extra special because the top on my car was down and I was sitting in S-L-O-W traffic and it was a lovely evening and well... other people, also enjoying their convertible, heard. I really need to remember that I lose my bubble of privacy when that top is down. Oh well, we're all happier for it. They have a really good story about a weird girl belting out God Bless America on the bridge. I got to belt out God Bless America. Who needs to be embarassed? (Me, but this has so many bigger things to compete with on a regular basis that I probably won't even remember it tomorrow. Earlier today, I walked right into a sign post. See? Who cares about singing in traffic. Sign post in plain sight? Hilarious - what's wrong with me?)
Another good 4th of July tip free to you all: Never opt to participate in fireworks by radio instead of in person. It is not the same. I was reminded today of a funny memory of "watching" fireworks in bed with my Grandmother one Independence Day when I was 10 or 11. Enthusiastic gentleman narrated the colorful (or so we were told) bursts of sound. If given the option, don't choose radio - unless you can do it with your grandmother and laugh about it forever. Ridiculous makes some of the best memories.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Wisdom of a 5-Year-Old
This week, I was labeled. No big deal. We're all labeled and judged all the time about a million things big and small. Sometimes labels are positive, sometimes not so much. They are often helpful. In fact, I usually really like the order they bring to things. Still, rarely can we find one label so big that it completely defines a thing - or person. Anyway, I was labeled this week in a difficult, but useful way. The label was heavy and hard to wrap my mind around because I didn't expect it. The truth is though, I asked for it. Literally. I asked this person what they thought. They responded from a place of good intentions and within their expertise. I also have come to a place where I think the label is probably accurate. I think it will be helpful to know. Still, I didn't like it. And I let it get a hold of my mind and define me this week. I was all frazzled and crazypants. I was afraid to say it aloud to anyone else lest it migh come true (As if I'm the One who can speak things into being. Note to self: You don't have a firm handle on sovereignty and who it belongs to just yet...). I knew better. Objectively, I told myself not to do it. I said to Self: "this is not all you are! This is hard, but you are ok! Keep moving forward!" Self said: "I'm locking myself in my room and I'm not coming out until you and your stupid label go away forever!"
Self was kind of a brat this week. Self is not always a grown up, despite my best efforts. Self is sometimes (shock!) a little too led by her emotions.
Seriously though, before we decide I have a split personality disorder, I'll stop talking about Self as if it isn't just me being a brat. The truth of it all is, sometimes, it really sucks to do the right thing. This week, I didn't respond well to information that I asked for, needed to hear, and is probably spot on. We lie if we try to convince ourselves that good is also easy. Good is hard. That's what I learned today - relearned. Any 5-year-old could have told me that it was hard to be good, but I should do it anyway. I will probably need to relearn it again tomorrow though.
Oh to be 5 and smart again...
Self was kind of a brat this week. Self is not always a grown up, despite my best efforts. Self is sometimes (shock!) a little too led by her emotions.
Seriously though, before we decide I have a split personality disorder, I'll stop talking about Self as if it isn't just me being a brat. The truth of it all is, sometimes, it really sucks to do the right thing. This week, I didn't respond well to information that I asked for, needed to hear, and is probably spot on. We lie if we try to convince ourselves that good is also easy. Good is hard. That's what I learned today - relearned. Any 5-year-old could have told me that it was hard to be good, but I should do it anyway. I will probably need to relearn it again tomorrow though.
Oh to be 5 and smart again...
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Sovereignty, Democracy, and Dancing
Church tonight was focused on the Sovereignty of God. (Check out NCC's http://www.godanthology.com/ - Lovin' it at week 5 of 9.) God's sovereignty was an interesting thing to think about on a weekend when we so proudly celebrate democracy. I'm a big fan of God's sovereignty and our democracy and the dichotomy is only of face value in this case. The truth is, there isn't a thing about His extraordinary sovereignty and our cool little democratic republic that is mutually exclusive. We have the right to have chosen our system and to exist under it because He said so. "Let there be free will" - or something like that. Plus, the U.S. government is inspired in large part by biblical recommendations on government. (That book is so handy!)
It's good to be reminded that God's willing to lead - more than willing, the only one capable. We're the only resistance. If we're willing to let him lead though, we're going to be much better dancers.
If you know me at all, you know I don't really dance when I can be seen. I'm terribly awkward and clumsy. I think it's probably as upsetting and embarassing for witnesses as it is for me (you're welcome for my resistance in this case.). So, this analogy in my head was a good one as it struck me tonight. The few times I've been sucked into dancing over the last few years I've realized that not only do I dance terribly by myself, I also follow terribly. So, I need a strong lead. I need someone to stare me down, guide me around, and not hesitate at all while being very patient and forgiving that I'm making him look pretty stupid compared to his far superior skill. God's a really good lead. Unlike all of the humans who are probably pretty grateful that I give up so easily, God has been using "bad dancers" to do His work since Adam & Eve.
The point here isn't that I'm clumsy though. (I don't feel the need to convince anyone of this - I don't remember anyone ever arguing this point.) The point is, if we'd just let Him lead more, we'd be better dancers. Think of all the wimps and weirdos He's done his work with over the years. He'll turn our awkard stumblings into His grace if we let Him.
I could really stand to be a better dancer. All that free will, and we're really just better off if we give it back. All I want to do is be led. Well, at least I want to want that... We'll see. I bet there is at least a little more awkward dancing in my analogous future (in my actual future I've learned to avoid dancing pretty effectively in any place where others might see.). I'm going to practice being led this week though. It's a real, live actual goal. Because I said so and you heard it. Feel free to remind me. I'll try to be correctable, but that's a work in progress too...
And I might just dance for real when you're not looking this week. What's the point of having your very own basement bedroom to hide in if you can't be a little stupid?
It's good to be reminded that God's willing to lead - more than willing, the only one capable. We're the only resistance. If we're willing to let him lead though, we're going to be much better dancers.
If you know me at all, you know I don't really dance when I can be seen. I'm terribly awkward and clumsy. I think it's probably as upsetting and embarassing for witnesses as it is for me (you're welcome for my resistance in this case.). So, this analogy in my head was a good one as it struck me tonight. The few times I've been sucked into dancing over the last few years I've realized that not only do I dance terribly by myself, I also follow terribly. So, I need a strong lead. I need someone to stare me down, guide me around, and not hesitate at all while being very patient and forgiving that I'm making him look pretty stupid compared to his far superior skill. God's a really good lead. Unlike all of the humans who are probably pretty grateful that I give up so easily, God has been using "bad dancers" to do His work since Adam & Eve.
The point here isn't that I'm clumsy though. (I don't feel the need to convince anyone of this - I don't remember anyone ever arguing this point.) The point is, if we'd just let Him lead more, we'd be better dancers. Think of all the wimps and weirdos He's done his work with over the years. He'll turn our awkard stumblings into His grace if we let Him.
I could really stand to be a better dancer. All that free will, and we're really just better off if we give it back. All I want to do is be led. Well, at least I want to want that... We'll see. I bet there is at least a little more awkward dancing in my analogous future (in my actual future I've learned to avoid dancing pretty effectively in any place where others might see.). I'm going to practice being led this week though. It's a real, live actual goal. Because I said so and you heard it. Feel free to remind me. I'll try to be correctable, but that's a work in progress too...
And I might just dance for real when you're not looking this week. What's the point of having your very own basement bedroom to hide in if you can't be a little stupid?
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Morning is overrated.
I've been thinking about blogging for weeks - well years, but more seriously in the last few weeks. The title and the design and what to say in THE FIRST POST have been haunting me. I'm taking it all too serioously - I do that... What I really wanted all along was to get down to sharing the words. So here is where we shall begin - at the beginning of the day. Morning - and why I'm opposed.
I have never been a morning person. Morning is hard. People who wake up with the birds and sing along baffle me. Please, for your own safety, never sing to me in the morning. I am successfully fake-happy- morning-Megan, but if you sing I can't make any promises that the fake happy will be able to stand strong - particularly if you're trying to wake me up. Bring on the showtunes, but please just save them for a few hours.
I wake up slowly. In a fog. At the last possible minute. In a rush. I know it's not a good system, but I seem to be sincerely incapable of changing it. Mornings where anything much at all gets done to my hair are a major (and infrequent) victory. It just hurts too much to have the light in my eyes for all that getting ready business.
Morning is loud. People are rushing off to places. Some people - perhaps even most people - have this expectation that we're all well rested and full of energy in the morning. They say things in the morning about being "rip roaring and ready to go." What does that even mean? I neither rip, nor roar. I'm not sure what the benefits would be and I don't think I'll start - at any time of day, but especially in the morning. I realize that the sun was very important in ancient times. When we were lacking in electricity and needed to work by sunshine. I don't need that now though, I'd get enough sunshine in the afternoon hours for healthy survival. I'm certain. I've heard all that business about circadian rhythm and sunshine. It's a convincing argument, but I'm not sold. I've tried to change my "bad" late night habits, but I hated it.
I'm just a night owl. I like the hours between eleven and two best. I like the quiet murmurs of nighttime. The cooler weather, the calm in the air. I think clearly when most people have stopped thinking for the day. This blog is to share my hours of clarity. I promise I won't always trash morning and sing the praises of midnight. It's just my time to reflect on the day without the loud brightness of it all overwhelming me. I'm looking forward to sharing it with you.
Seriously though, for both of our sakes, do all you can not to call me before 8 am. It's better for both of us. I promise that anything I say before 10:30 or so just won't be my best. And before 8 is likely to be completely incoherent. I may not remember the conversation at all. Just write it down - try again at 11 or so, maybe bring coffee if it's really important.
I have never been a morning person. Morning is hard. People who wake up with the birds and sing along baffle me. Please, for your own safety, never sing to me in the morning. I am successfully fake-happy- morning-Megan, but if you sing I can't make any promises that the fake happy will be able to stand strong - particularly if you're trying to wake me up. Bring on the showtunes, but please just save them for a few hours.
I wake up slowly. In a fog. At the last possible minute. In a rush. I know it's not a good system, but I seem to be sincerely incapable of changing it. Mornings where anything much at all gets done to my hair are a major (and infrequent) victory. It just hurts too much to have the light in my eyes for all that getting ready business.
Morning is loud. People are rushing off to places. Some people - perhaps even most people - have this expectation that we're all well rested and full of energy in the morning. They say things in the morning about being "rip roaring and ready to go." What does that even mean? I neither rip, nor roar. I'm not sure what the benefits would be and I don't think I'll start - at any time of day, but especially in the morning. I realize that the sun was very important in ancient times. When we were lacking in electricity and needed to work by sunshine. I don't need that now though, I'd get enough sunshine in the afternoon hours for healthy survival. I'm certain. I've heard all that business about circadian rhythm and sunshine. It's a convincing argument, but I'm not sold. I've tried to change my "bad" late night habits, but I hated it.
I'm just a night owl. I like the hours between eleven and two best. I like the quiet murmurs of nighttime. The cooler weather, the calm in the air. I think clearly when most people have stopped thinking for the day. This blog is to share my hours of clarity. I promise I won't always trash morning and sing the praises of midnight. It's just my time to reflect on the day without the loud brightness of it all overwhelming me. I'm looking forward to sharing it with you.
Seriously though, for both of our sakes, do all you can not to call me before 8 am. It's better for both of us. I promise that anything I say before 10:30 or so just won't be my best. And before 8 is likely to be completely incoherent. I may not remember the conversation at all. Just write it down - try again at 11 or so, maybe bring coffee if it's really important.
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