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...)

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.

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.

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.

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...

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...)