just me...hp

Confessions of a Closet Pack-Rat.

2012-01-23T17:12:00.008-05:00

Remember that list of achievable ambitions that I so confidently listed for the entire blogosphere to read on the first day of 2012? Well, it just so happens that over the MLK, Jr. weekend, I decided that it was high time to make good on one of them. All of my closets have reached an unacceptable level of chaos. The worst one being the coat closet. Theoretically, the coat closet is the one closet in an entire home that should be kept somewhat orderly since that's the one guests are more likely to use and see. And it's all about putting up a good front and not letting visitors catch a true glimpse of the residents living in that home, now isn't it? Transparency was so early 2000s.

I am by no means in the closet about being a pack-rat. [I chose the term pack-rat over hoarder because hoarder sounded so negative, but referring to myself as a type of vermin doesn't exactly scream positive either.] I'm just at my best as a pack-rat when it comes to my closets.

I shamefully present to you Exhibit A:

I'm a little bit embarrassed that I just opened up my closet for the entire world [or my loyal 3 readers] to see. Welcome guests. It's a mess in here, but I'm sure if I try hard enough I can fit all of your worldly possessions into my closet for the duration of your visit.

Y'all. I don't really know what pushed me over the edge to where I reached the point of it finally being enough, but in true HP fashion it was probably something miniscule. You know, like I looked down to discover a safety pin or something on the floor. Who am I kidding? You can't even see the floor.

I am amazed at the stuff I found in there. Need an example or 12? Let's see, I found cough drops that expired in 2006. [For those of you keeping score: I didn't even live there in 2006 which means that I had obviously been lugging those jokers around from town to town with me for awhile. Especially considering cough drops have a shelf life of at least 32 years.] I found unsent greeting cards. One of which was a birthday card for my dad. [Let this be a lesson to you: when you buy a greeting card, mail it.] I found never given gifts. This included parts of a baby shower gift. [The intended recipient is now a toddler and also has a younger sibling.] Essentially, my coat closet was the place where my good intentions went to die. Until now.

I proudly present to you Exhibit B:

I feel like a whole new girl. Well, perhaps that's a bit dramatic, but at least I no longer have to battle inanimate objects each morning when I suit up to brave the cold outdoors. BTDubs, if you know of anyone who needs an umbrella, I have no less than a half dozen for sharing. See that pink tweed coat in the "before" picture? It's free to a good home if you're interested. It will be great for the nights that you hop into your Delorian and travel back to the time when tweed coats were cool.

My favorite discovery in the atrocity that was my pre-2012 coat closet? My long-last earbags. I misplaced them a couple of years ago, and to be honest, have mourned the loss of them each and every cold morning/afternoon/night that I've had to walk the pup. They are the most amazing and incredible ear warmers. Ever. And I'm not even getting paid for this endorsement. I was so very excited to find them that I immediately put them on and wore them around my apartment for a little while. Cash looked at me as if I had lost my mind which was really no different than any other Saturday afternoon.

The great coat closet clean-out has sparked some sort of reorganization firestorm in my life. I've declared 2012 the year of decluttering. I suspect that it will be such a success that in 2013, "decluttering" will be a new word added to the dictionary. Because the dictionary is something that needs no decluttering whatsoever.

Chocolate Lab Tattoos.

2012-01-08T01:15:00.002-05:00

George Orwell was really on to something back in 1984 when he wrote from The Animal Farm that Big Brother is watching.

You see, Al Gore's information super-highway is so super, that Blogger runs these reports and provides stats so I can see how many people read my blog, the cities and countries where my blog is being read, and the traffic sources of how folks stumble upon this little blog o' mine. News Flash: 2012 is the year of the nerd. It's going to be MY year.

Because I am not a regular blogger, some days I have 3 readers, other days no readers, and then other days like 60 or so. The numbers confirm what I've always known: I'm keeping my day job.

For the life of me I can't figure out why anyone from Australia, Russia, Denmark, Germany, Singapore, or Spain wants to read my blog. Yet, folks from those countries are reading it. And now a message for these visitors in particular: "Hello friends, please don't form your opinion of the United States and its citizens based on what you read here. Or see on TMZ. Sincerely, Just Me...HP." I get traffic from cities and states all across the US too. Primarily Georgia, which is not surprising given my own coordinates. But there's also New York and California and points in between. You know, I didn't even realize that the internet had made it to Kansas yet, but it seems that it finally did back in the summer.

Numbers and cities are fun, but what I find to be most interesting is the traffic sources. The most common link is Facebook. Next, from other blogs that have my blog linked to theirs. But it's the Google search results that I love. For example, just this week people found my blog after searching the following: Chocolate Labs with Crayons and Chocolate Lab Tattoos. I'm intrigued. Like, I wonder if the person was searching what happens when a Chocolate Lab eats crayons. My dog has eaten practically everything, but praise Jesus he's never tried crayons. They are the gateway drug to Sharpies, you know. And then what's with the Chocolate Lab Tattoos? Does this person want a tattoo of a Chocolate Lab? As much as I love my dog, the teeth marks in the legs of my dining room chair is permanent reminder enough of his presence in my life. To the person out there considering a tattoo of a Chocolate Lab: Proceed with caution because when the next canine companion comes into your life and it's a Poodle, she's going to be quite cranky when she is constantly eye-level with that big loyal Lab plastered on your calf that you look at too as a regular reminder of what you once had.

12 Good Months.

2012-01-05T08:00:00.001-05:00

Now that we're 5 days into the new year, I can hardly remember 2011 at all. Oh kidding. I remember what I wore to school in 1984. Of course I remember last year.

I will remember 2011 as being a good year. It was quiet. It was calm. After the roller coaster of 2009 and the chaos that was 2010, the quiet and calm was welcomed. I know that it sounds very trite to say that I am completely different person now than I was when this year began, but to some degree I am a changed person. I feel like that I have learned more this year than I can remember learning in several years combined during my adult life. The lessons have not been easy, but they have been good.

I'm a worrier by nature. I can slip into worry mode in about 4 seconds flat. I've tried to put some perspective on that worry. Did you know that the phone company will not stop your phone service if you forget to pay your phone bill for a couple of weeks? Two years ago I would have come unhinged if that had happened. When daddy died though, I realized that there are some things in life that we cannot control and there are some things in life that aren't worth the stress and lost sleep. Need another example? Being the girl who rushed puppy to the Emergency Vet when he fell asleep in his water bowl, naturally he always got his heartworm prevention on the 10th of each month come hail or high water. Always. Now? Eh, he gets it within a week or so of the 10th. I hesitate to say that I've completely mellowed out [hello, DNA is DNA], but compared to where I was at on the spectrum, I can say that I am more mellow.

There were times throughout the year when I had to purposely distance myself from my comfort zone. It was tough and a little lonely at times, but I learned that the cattiness and gossip and pessimism that we all by nature have the tendency to thrive on is really not worth it. It's always at the expense of someone else. And words, they really do hurt. I have by no means mastered this, but I hope that I'm doing better. Never fear, my trademark eyerolls are still an innate component of my sunny disposition.

This is the year that I finally began to understand what I've always known: this life, while it's mine to live, it's not all about me. Another huge step outside of my comfort zone included me beginning to volunteer at church. When it comes to church, I am a champ at holding down the pew. But gravity does that job well enough, so now I am a greeter. I didn't think I was quite up to the pressure of teaching big concepts to little minds [I mean elementary school kiddos, not narrow-minded adults], but I can certainly smile and hand out bulletins to folks. Except for that Sunday when I dropped a whole stack of them right in the doorway as the masses were piling into the auditorium. It's how I roll.

Until 2011, I would have been perfectly content completely erasing the two previous years from my memory. But this was the year that I began to make some meaning from the chaotic roller coaster ride. Parts of those years will never make sense, but I've discovered that meaning can still be made from senselessness. It is not always the circumstance that shapes up, but our response to the circumstance.

Speaking of making sense and meaning, one thing [of many things] that I know that I will never understand is how much God loves me. It doesn't make sense that he loves me because hello, have you been around me at 1:00 in the afternoon on the days when I didn't eat my mid-morning snack? Queen Cranky-Pants. But he loves me nonetheless. Even when I betray him, he still loves me. Once upon a time long ago when I had a single gray hair instead of the 3 that I have now, I still loved someone for a little while in the immediate aftermath of discovering I had been betrayed. From that experience, I was finally able to connect the dots many moons later and realize that daily I sin and betray God. Daily he loves me. Even when I'm at my crankiest. Truly, it makes no sense. It doesn't make sense to us because humans do not have the capacity to love as God does -even though we're commanded to do so. If catching even a small glimpse of God's love for me was the primary outcome of the event that over time has transformed from something so big to simply a blip in my life story, then I am glad that we do not have the ability to completely erase our memory or periods in life.

All years link together and our past is the foundation to our future. I really do look at 2011 as a critical link in the story that is Just Me...HP. It has helped me to see where I've been while shaping and preparing me for where I'm headed. While we are all different and we all have different lives, our lives are all very much the same. We have mountain top moments and experiences. We trudge through the pit of despair. We have calm in the middle. It's in the quiet that we hear most clearly. Don't fill these moments with empty noise. It's in the calm that we can see even the smallest movement. Keep your head up and your eyes open.

11 Shows I Love.

2012-01-04T08:00:00.000-05:00

Today's post was not my original idea for day 11. However, I decided that since I'm "recapping" 2011 in a sense, I would be remiss if I didn't include some television shows. It's a thousand wonders I maintain a 40-hour/week job with the intense reading, television viewing, and napping schedule that I keep. DVR is one of the greatest things that's ever happened to me. Yet at the same time, it's one of the worst thing that's ever happened to me because it serves as my enabler. If stranded on a desert island, one of my 5 items would definitely be television equipped with DVR. At least I have a clear perspective on my first-world problems.

So here's what I watched and loved last year:

1. Friday Night Lights. I miss Tim Riggins. And Coach and Tami Taylor. Single tear.

2. The Closer. When I grow up, I want to be like Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson. And on a serious note, I hope my arms look like Kyra Sedgwick's do when I'm her age. I wonder if tone and definition comes with age? Hmm.

3. How I Met Your Mother. Oh for the love, Ted Mosby, meet your wife already.

4. Parks and Recreation. It is li-tri-ly the best show on television right now.

5. Modern Family. This one runs a close second to Parks & Rec. I giggle and giggle and giggle for 30 minutes every Wednesday.

6. Parenthood. Love the Braverman family. Love them. Except it's super weird for me that Lauren Graham and Peter Krause are dating in real life and are brother and sister on the show. Eww. Yuck. Grody.

7. Suits. I found this show on USA Network this year and I love it. I have an unrealistic crush on Harvey Specter. As in, I'm planning to marry him. Except he's a television character.

8. Castle. This show is kind of like Ed, but not really at all. Actually it's only like Ed in the sense that when Castle and Detective Beckett finally become an "item" [as my dear mama likes to say] the next scene will be of them jumping a shark together.

9.Happy Endings. Kind of like wine, this show gets better with age. It started out kind of Boone's Farm-sy and now it's totally up to Trader Joe's Two Buck Chuck.

10. Blue Bloods. Donnie Wahlberg + Tom Selleck = Be still my heart.

11. SNL. This season's episode hosted by Jimmy Fallon was one of the best ones in a long time. I hope that when we all get to heaven that I live in the same cul-de-sac as Jimmy Fallon and Justin Timberlake.

If stranded on a desert island, what shows would you have on your DVR? Or would you only read books and listen to classical music?

10 Years with TRS.

2012-01-03T08:00:00.003-05:00

Have I ever told the story of how I graduated from college on a Wednesday night and went to work bright and early the very next morning? Well, on December 19, 2001, I graduated from college. On the morning of Thursday, December 20, 2001, I reported for duty at my very first real job that was going to earn me real money. [You know, as opposed to the fake money that I had been earning at part-time jobs since the age of 15.] The end.

Why did I start working the very next day after graduation as opposed to setting off on some post-graduation European backpacking adventure? Primarily because all of my friends had been working for 6 months already or still had 6 months of school left so I was making my grand entrance into the "real world" a bit tardy or prematurely, I suppose. The other reason was because I worked for all of two days and then had two weeks PTO for the holidays. Pretty sweet gig because I never had to worry about things like gaps in insurance coverage or income or those other things that are completely incomprehensible until faced with the dead end that is inevitable along the road of college life freedom.

Also on that day a decade ago, a clock started ticking toward my retirement earnings. At the green age of 22, retirement was the absolute farthest thing from my mind. I learned that it would take TEN! WHOLE! YEARS! of working within the University System before I would even be vested in retirement. My plan certainly did not include me working for 10 years. I would surely be busy with things like car pool and cookie baking and lounging on the sofa watching daytime television by the time I reached the ancient old age of 30.

Oh I just love these subtle reminders that my plans are not always written in stone. Just as I never predicted the end of daytime soap operas (Ha!), I certainly never predicted that I would be vested in retirement. But I am. While I am thankful for this unplanned accomplishment now, I am sure that I will be even more thankful in my 50s when my future children continue to suck the life out of my bank account.

Unplanned accomplishments. Anybody else out there have them? I'm sure we all do. It's just a matter of recognizing them instead of focusing on all the other things that we planned on yet haven't quite completed. Glass half full, or half empty? The choice lies within each of us.

With endings like that, I think I have a future in retirement options with the DaySpring or Hallmark corporations.

9 Noteworthy Novels.

2012-01-02T07:00:00.006-05:00

Let me start today's post by publicly acknowledging that not all of my picks are novels and the argument can even be made that they aren't exactly noteworthy, but some occasions call for alliteration over accuracy. I think most political campaigns are founded on this notion.

As long as I can remember, I have been a bookworm. I vividly remember one night when I was just a little bitty thing getting so frustrated that I could not read the words in a book myself that my dear old dad stayed up with me until I essentially memorized the words so that I could "read". I was 12. Oh, kidding. By the time I reached 12 I had progressed to that uber cool phase in life when I read books at the dinner table because I could not put the latest Sweet Valley High read down long enough to actually carry on a conversation with my family. I blame the tortoise shell glasses for ushering in that socially awkward stage of my life.

Sometimes I read because it forces me to think more deeply. For example, John Piper's Don't Waste Your Life. Other times I read because I need an outlet that requires minimal brain activity. For example, that two week period when I read all four books in the Twilight Saga. [I like to make sure that my low points in life are really low.]

I have read and read and read and then read some more this year. In fact, all of this guilt-free recreational reading has been one of the biggest perks of post-graduate school life. None of my selected reads that I am about to share with you will be found on the New York Times 100 Best Novels list, but I did just read the entire list so I'm sure that counts as something intellectual.

1. Plan B by Pete Wilson. No, this is not a book about an alternative and controversial form of contraception. I accidentally stumbled upon this book when the local Borders was going out of business. It's quite extreme to say that a book changed my life, but it certainly changed my attitude and perspective. We all have plans for our lives. Very rarely do those plans unfold exactly as we anticipate and expect. When those plans disintegrate and we are left living in our unwelcome reality, it can be a rude awakening. So this is about our response and coming to the realization that maybe, just maybe God's plan is actually much greater.

2. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. I read this book on Christmas night. As in started it around 6:00 and finished it around 2:30 in the morning. So the next day I read Catching Fire. Then I kind of lost steam because it took me from Tuesday until Friday to read Mockingjay. Reading this trilogy confirmed two things: I can read at a middle school reading level and I'm still about as cool as I was 20 years ago. However, these books were fantastic. Read them if you haven't already. Seriously.

3. The Help by Kathryn Stockett. Nothing like showing up two years late to a party, huh? I am confident that I was the absolute last thirty-something female born and raised South of the Mason-Dixon and East of the Mississippi to read this book. I cried. I laughed. I cringed. "You is kind. You is smart. You is important." If only every little girl could grow up hearing this message from someone who loves them because maybe, just maybe, one day we all would believe it.

4. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson. I decided to read this to see if it was worth all the hype. I fought heavy eyelids and sleep to get through the first 150 pages or so before I began to understand. Upon finishing it, I immediately went to my local bookseller and purchased The Girl Who Played with Fire which took me all of three days to finish. I haven't read the third one yet, but I'll get around to it when it's released in paperback. Pure smut? Eh, not really, but they certainly aren't Karen Kingsbury classics either. I read them the week that I had a double ear-infection, pink eye, and no voice. That was also the week that Prince William and Kate Middleton got married. In case you were wondering.

5. Girls in White Dresses by Jennifer Close. This is a must-read for any girl who has ever been in more weddings than she has the fingers to count them on or has navigated her mid-to-late 20s and early 30s feeling like everyone else has their acts together and somehow she missed the memo on how getting said act together actually happens. I read this upon the recommendation from a pal who I defer to for all political, food, music, and literary insight. I'm surprised she hasn't started billing me yet.

6. The Proper Care and Maintenance of Friendship by Lisa Verge Higgins. Another Borders going-out-of-business find, but I loved this book because in it I saw my own friendships with my own group of girls who I treasure so very much. Maybe I'll write a book one day and my friendships with them will be the topic. I'm sure they'll all just love that.

7. Savannah Blues by Mary Kay Andrews. I read this at the beach back in the summer, and it is the perfect beach read. Especially if Savannah happens to be one of your favorite cities in your home state.

8. Winter Garden by Kristin Hannah. I've read a couple of her books, and while I do not categorize her as being another Danielle Steel or Jodi Picoult, she reminds me of them in the sense that just as it's a guarantee that a Danielle Steel book is going to be about some woman who lost everything and then with the help of a dashing gentleman rebuilds her life or that a Jodi Picoult book is going to be about some tragedy involving a child or teenager, Hannah's books are about the dynamic of family relationships. Specifically, the females in a family. Predictable and easy to read...a great cure for the television rerun season blahs.

9. John, Chapters 1-10 from The B-I-B-L-E. Confession: I am terrible at reading The Bible. BUT, lately I've discovered that the more you read it, the easier it becomes to understand. Also, I've learned that turning off the VH1 Top 20 countdown during reading time minimizes the opportunity for distractions. [It's appropriate to roll your eyes now because I would certainly roll my eyes at such a "realization".] Anywho, a couple of months ago, I discovered a series that Louie Giglio is in the middle of at his church called "Word". Essentially, he's going through the entire book of John one chapter at a time and sums up each chapter in one word. During the summer he did the first six chapters, and he just did four more last month. I like it because he offers clear explanations of the scripture while keeping my attention through his wit and humor. But you don't have to take my word for it. I recommend that you check it out for yourself from this link. [You'll have to scroll through the messages to get to them. Series: Word. First one is back in June.]

Enough with reading this blog of mine. Get out there and read some books! And let me know what you're reading because my "to-read" list is getting a little slim. Incidentally that's the only thing in my life that gets slim this time of year. Well, other than my checking account.

8 Achievable Ambitions.

2012-01-01T08:00:00.003-05:00

Happy New Year!

I like resolutions. However, I rarely make them unless I think that I can keep them pretty easily. Perhaps it's that component in my personality that causes me to never even attempt something unless I'm sure that I can achieve it. What? You think of me as a person who has had limited experiences due to my lack of attempt?

So in the spirit of the New Year, here are 8 things that I plan to do in 2012:

1. Run a half-marathon. I'm long overdue. The last one that I did was in November 2009.
2. Write more. In my journal. Here in the blogosphere. Notes and cards to my people.
3. Resume my multi-vitamin regiment. Why did I ever stop taking vitamins in the first place? No clue.
4. Eliminate using my debit card. I was cash only from January to April in 2011. It's time to make Dave proud again.
5. Plane trip to a place I've never been. [Duh.]
6. Work harder at work. Fact: I'm a taskmaster when I need to be. But there are some pretty big projects on my to-do list that I want to complete.
7. Clean out my coat closet. Y'all. This closet is so full and cluttered that the skeletons can't even fit in it.
8. Get a passport.

So. Who here makes resolutions or sets goals? What do you hope that 2012 brings? A new calendar is as exciting as new notebooks at the beginning of the school year. Clean, fresh, and waiting for us to leave marks on them. What kind of mark do you want to leave on 2012? Make it count just in case the Mayans are right. That way when they are proven wrong, we can all look back on the great memories that we made!

7 Songs for Singing.

2011-12-31T08:00:00.001-05:00

I do love a good song, and I am of the belief that most songs are better when performed live. One exception being Taylor Swift songs because y'all...painful. PTL, the one time I did hear her live she was only singing a couple of songs and Snoop Dogg quickly came to the rescue of our bleeding ears. However, I'm not here to bash a young girl who made more money in the first 15 minutes of her career than I will ever make in my entire 51 year career as an indentured servant.

It really is a shame that I have zilcho musical talent, but for those of us who aren't athletes, we can be athletic supporters, right? [Name that movie.] There's a lot of pressure to list just 7 songs in a blog post when it's supposed to be a capstone post of sorts for the entire year. So I narrowed down my selections based on the fact that I had to have heard these songs performed live this year. Here goes:

1. The Once and Future Carpenter - The Avett Brothers

2. Ten Thousand Words - The Avett Brothers

Have I mentioned that I saw the Avetts perform for the third time this year just last night? [Well, I am actually writing this in advance but the plan is to see them on the 30th.] Love them. Their energy is crazy good.

3. Barton Hollow - The Civil Wars

4. Poison and Wine - The Civil Wars

I saw them just a couple of weeks ago, and I was absolutely entranced the entire time. Awesome. Even if Joy's weird awkward hand motions made me uncomfortable. She needs a guitar in her hands or something. Yet, they performed in a chapel so I feel like we were a tough crowd for them. The behavior of the audience was like people behave in church [you know, really quiet and reserved] so these two were getting zero reaction during the show. I felt the need to write a written apology afterwards.

5. No Means No - Striking Matches

The group formerly known as Common Thread. Their closest friends call them Justin and Sarah. I'm entitled because I endlessly humored half of this duo for hours when he was a mere toddler and I was a way too cool for school 4th grader. Y'all. If you haven't made it to one of their shows yet, GET THERE. I suspect that soon I will no longer be able to afford tickets to their shows so I feel the need to see them as often as possible. Because they really are THAT awesome.

6. Colder Weather - Zac Brown Band

I technically saw them on NYE, but the show continued into the wee small hours of January 1 so technically I saw them this year. I love a good technicality as much as I love a good song.

7. Waiting Here For You - Christy Nockels

She has the voice of an angel. Well, maybe not because I suspect that the angel Gabriel's voice is loud and booming and all sorts of intimidating. Why else would he preface all of his remarks with "Fear not!"?

If only I had been able to score tickets to Mumford & Sons when they played at The Fox in Atlanta this year, my year in music would have been complete. Darn those scalpers. Darn them all! I'll see them eventually though. Mark my word.

6 is for Saturday.

2011-12-30T08:00:00.000-05:00

Do you know how I know that I'm old? It happened this year so I feel that it's necessary for me to document this milestone for the sake of posterity. I started waking up early on Saturday. On purpose. Because I enjoy it.

Now for those of you who know my family and how I was raised, this is kind of a big shift for me. By nature, we're night people. I always tell folks that I didn't have a bed time whenever I was a kid, and well honestly, I didn't really have a strict bed time. What? You mean it's not normal for a 6 year-old to stay up and watch 20/20 and then Friday night videos? Anywho...

Saturday morning is my time to recharge after a long work week. Previously that meant sleeping until oh, 11 or so. Now it means waking up by 6:45 or 7:00, walking the dog, making some coffee, and then spending a couple of hours reading and drinking said coffee. I love it. My inner introvert is coming out by talking about this. The sixth day of the week has definitely become my favorite for this very reason. And yes, I realize some of you are laughing at me because the definition of "early" pre-parenthood is much different than the definition of early when there are kiddos in the house. Unless it was my house because when you put your kids to bed late, they tend to sleep late!

So, what do you all do to recharge? Can you think of the last time that you've spent time doing this? We all need it. I think that not only do we feel better, we treat others better when we are feeling our finest. If you currently don't have a routine to restore your energy, then perhaps 2012 will be the year you find one. There's still time to make your resolutions!

5 Words Make a Handful.

2011-12-29T08:00:00.005-05:00

Throughout this year, I've spent a great deal of time thinking about and determining what these words mean to me. While words are flat and one-dimensional, the meanings behind them are anything but flat. One of the reasons why I used the Christmas card design that I did is that I truly hope is that each and everyone of you has a year filled with love, joy, and peace.

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." -Romans 15:13

4 Years in Athens.

2011-12-28T08:00:00.000-05:00

How in the world have I managed to live in Athens for 4 (actually 4.5) years?!?! It's the town that I never really wanted to live in in the first place. When I left my little mountain town of Dahlonega for the big city in July 2007, I was only going to live there until I finished graduate school. Well, that whole ordeal ended up taking longer than I had planned for it to. Now that I've been done with school for a whole year though, what's my excuse for still being there? [Other than being gainfully employed in a job that I happen to enjoy, of course.]

As it turns out, I really sort of like Athens. In fact, I would go so far as to say now that I love it. What? Me? It's amazing how attitudes and perspectives can change when one isn't so bull-headed for no apparent reason. During this last year of not "having" to be there for school, I've done things like started volunteering at church. Which I happen to really enjoy. I've dropped the "as soon as I'm done with school, I'm out of here" mentality. And now given recent and exciting developments with my job effective January 1, it looks like that I will definitely be here awhile longer. How much longer? Oh, I don't know but there are certainly worst places to be.

Hmmmm..."to be". No worries I'm not going all Shakespearean here, but this year I think I've really begun to understand the value in just being. By that, I mean being completely there wherever I am instead of being so focused on where I'm not or where I think that I would rather be. A couple of months ago I was sought out by a company and had a couple of calls with the hiring folks. The opportunity sounded really exciting and really good and would have been pretty great. Except for I wasn't so on board with the location. I didn't even know there were states in the lower 48 with only a total of 3 Target stores in them, did y'all? Crazy. So that opportunity wasn't to be. In the meantime I'll stay in my little town of Athens with a Target store less than 2 miles from my home and all of those other creature comforts that I've come to really love in the place that I currently call home.

3 Orange Balls.

2011-12-27T08:00:00.004-05:00

This is the year that Cash, the Wonder Lab, celebrated his third year of life. Throughout these three years it has been visual reminders like this:
...that has kept me from selling him to the lowest bidder in moments like this:
Had I read all the books that I read about raising Chocolate Labs prior to getting him, there's a 92% chance I would have gotten a hermit crab instead. Who knew that male Chocolate Labs tend to have the most energy of all the Labrador Retrievers in the land? "They" say that age three is when male Chocolates calm down and are usually okay to be left uncrated for long periods of time. My shoes and throw pillows would disagree with them.

He really is the greatest dog in the world though, and he has taught me so much about discipline, patience, and loyalty. As in, I need to exhibit more of all three of those traits. He is quite loyal to me, but sometimes I wonder if it's because he sees me as his source for three meals a day and the essential ingredient for seemingly never ending games of fetch. 2011 though was the year that he abandoned his first love, the tennis ball, for a new and improved model:

See that poor, dejected tennis ball off to his right? Once he was introduced to the greatness that is the orange Chuck-It ball, tennis balls were so last season. He "acquired" his first orange ball at the dog park. He's pretty much a thief. Thank goodness the original owners are friends and they were kind enough to let him have it. I can't say that I blame them though since it was covered in dog slobber and prying it out of his mouth would have been akin to prying it from a piranha. He did not put this ball down for days. Literally. I had to trick him at bedtime to get it away from him. [No comments about who is the alpha in our master/canine relationship, please.] Speaking of bedtime, they also function as a breadcrumb trail of sorts just in case he forgets his way:
The way the other two made their way into his life was at Thanksgiving when I had all sorts of baking to do. I needed him to be entertained and distracted because no one likes it when dogs serve as taste-testers for baked goods. Bleh.

Sometimes I feel guilty that he does not spend his days duck-hunting or swimming and all of the other things that his breed was bred to do. [Remind me to one day tell you all about the time he killed my mom's neighbor's chicken. It was quite possibly his proudest moment.] But as far as he's concerned, he's living his purpose each and every day. Sure, it's a simple purpose: chasing orange balls and carrying them around wherever he goes, but he does it with the energy and devotion of a Lab who spends hours on end hunting and swimming. Hmmm...that's one more thing that he has brought to my attention that I need to improve upon: living out my purpose with energy and devotion even if it's not the most "glamorous" purpose out there. However, if I forget my own agenda, then my purpose does contribute to something grand. And that is a good thing.

“A person can learn a lot from a dog, even a loopy one like ours. Marley taught me about living each day with unbridled exuberance and joy, about seizing the moment and following your heart. He taught me to appreciate the simple things-a walk in the woods, a fresh snowfall, a nap in a shaft of winter sunlight. And as he grew old and achy, he taught me about optimism in the face of adversity. Mostly, he taught me about friendship and selflessness and, above all else, unwavering loyalty.” -John Grogan

2 Plane Trips.

2011-12-26T08:00:00.002-05:00

It's no secret that I love airplanes and airports and all of the things that come with both of those things. [Look, I never guaranteed new information in my 12 Days of Christmas blogging.] A decade ago when I took my very first flight as a college senior on a mission trip to Mexico, I decided that I would fly somewhere new very year. And I have managed to do so with the only exception being the year that I got Cash. His arrival resulted in a depleted cash flow between the puppy shots, crates, treats, and excessive trips to the after hours emergency vet when he would do things like fall asleep in his water bowl and swallow dog chews whole. [God bless my future children.]

When 2011 began I wasn't sure if and when I would be flying the friendly skies, but glory be, I took not just one but two plane trips this year. First stop - Ft. Lauderdale. I don't consider myself a beach person, but after this trip, I think I'm a beach person. I remembered to reapply sunscreen. I allowed myself to do nothing by sit and read. Or sit and nap. This relaxation mode was just what the doctor ordered because in the days and weeks leading up to the trip, my left shoulder blade hurt so badly that I seriously considered having it removed. Ok, that's extreme, but my left shoulder blade is the spot in my body where I carry all of my stress. So it's never a good sign when I wake up in the morning and my left shoulder blade is already hurting. I digress. To summarize...

I enjoyed green palm trees, blue skies and really blue water.
I made new friends who gave me great fashion advice.
I chased boys on the beach.
And I drank.
Just a typical week in July.

In November, I had the opportunity to head to Chicago to present at a conference for work. My initial thought was "Chicago in November...I'm going to be one big hive." [Because I'm so awesome that I break out into hives when I get cold as opposed to hot like the normal population of weirdos with unsightly skin conditions.]However, it was a great opportunity because I got to actually use my research from graduate school. It wasn't all work though as we did manage to make a little time for sightseeing.
It was really cool to see the downtown Macy's all decorated for Christmas.This is the only photo evidence that I was in fact there. I promise that I went beyond this one block in the city. If only I had thought to get someone to take a candid of me stuffing my face full of some yummy deep dish pizza. Y'all. That stuff is filling. Cold temps and deep dish pizza would be an inevitable lifetime membership to Jenny Craig for me if I lived in that town.
Now accepting recommendations for trips to take in 2012. Maybe NYC. I think it's kind of weird that I haven't made it there yet. That's probably why Lorne Michaels hasn't called to offer me a job yet. How can I live and work in a city that I've never actually visited?

1 Gift for All People.

2011-12-25T08:00:00.001-05:00

Merry Christmas! I suspect that by the time you read this, all the gifts that you have spent days, weeks and for the over-achievers out there, months shopping for and wrapping will have been opened. Isn't it a little bit crazy that we spend so much time looking for just the right gift(s) for our loved ones which leads to us spend even more time wrapping it up nicely and adorning the package with ribbons and bows, only to have them rip the paper to shreds and tear open the box to see what's inside in a matter of about 30 seconds flat before moving on to the next gift? Why do we do that? Because we love our people, that's why!

I've never really been a person who shows excessive amounts of emotion over anything. Even as a kiddo, I can remember numerous times when my mama would plead with me to yell because I was frustrated or jump up and down because I was excited, etc. I can't confirm, but I suspect that my only response was an eye roll. One Christmas in particular though I can remember being SO! EXCITED! I could not sleep because the anticipation over what Santa was going to leave for me in the living room was too great. Finally after mom and dad made countless trips into my room warning me that if I didn't actually go to sleep, Santa wouldn't deliver, I somehow managed to drift off because suddenly it was Christmas morning. And I was wide awake! I can't confirm, but I suspect that my poor parents had slept all of zero minutes thanks to little ol' me.

I still remember that feeling of walking into the living room and seeing all of my loot laid out before my eyes. Not one, but TWO Cabbage Patch Clown Kids! A stroller for my baby dolls! A million color stick crayon in my stocking! [Weird, I know, but that crazy crayon was one of my favorite things ever.] I could go on and on, but I won't. Let's just say that it was crazy insane and my expectations had been exceeded. I really could not grasp the concept that Santa had left all of that stuff just for me even after I had been such a pain by not going to sleep in a timely manner so he could get on with his Santa Claus business. I'm sure that there were other things on my list that I had requested that I did not get. [Let's be honest, I combed through the JCPenney's and Sears Wishbooks each year with the precision of a neurosurgeon in order to make Santa's job easy.] Yet, on that morning, and still to this day, I cannot recall those things. I can only remember the things that I did get. Why? Because those things surpassed my expectations. Santa knew best.

So let's look at this story from a grown-up perspective. Don't get me wrong, I love Santa, and I believe that he absolutely has a place in the magic and wonderment of Christmas. Let's replace Cabbage Patch Clown Kids with experiences, opportunities, and relationships and Santa with Christ though. After all, He is the reason why we are all gathered around our decorated pine trees that we annually bring inside for the sake of fighting a losing battle against falling needles. Aren't our expectations surpassed? Doesn't Christ know best? Yes, and yes.

The older I get, the more I appreciate the gift of salvation through Christ. Yet, just as I could not understand why oh why Santa chose to leave all of that stuff for me on that Christmas morning, I will never be able to fully understand and grasp why oh why God sent his one and only Son for all of my sins. But I do believe that it's important not to get hung up on the understanding of it because there are some things we are not meant to fully understand. As children, did we take the time to think "Now I really need to know why this toy was given me" before we started playing with it? Nope. We received those toys willingly. Why is it so hard for us to willingly receive the greatest gift of all?

There are people who are much more gifted at communicating this than I am so I would encourage you to check out Andy Stanley's series called "An Unexpected Christmas" here or Louie Giglio's series called "Anticipation" here. Don't get me wrong, they are people just like we are so it's not their word but God's word. But don't just take my word for it.

Merry Christmas.

"...I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people." -Luke 2:10

A Dozen Days of Blogging.

2011-12-07T18:54:00.004-05:00

Call it a temporary lapse of sound judgment, or perhaps, it was a momentary bout of ambition, but it seems that I have committed to blogging for 12 days straight. This is what happens when I let myself get caught up in the Christmas spirit: I order printed Christmas cards in which I encourage people to read my blog between December 25 and January 5 for HP's 12 Days of Christmas and I devote 20 minutes of each day to Jillian Michaels mocking me through the television as I shred away all the pumpkin cake and cookies that I consumed over Thanksgiving in order to make room for all the red velvet cake and Oreo balls that I plan to consume over Christmas. [I should have shredded that sentence down a bit.]

For those of you keeping score at home [first of all: if you're keeping score about this kind of stuff at home, for the love of Pete, get a hobby] I have blogged a total of 12 times since July. This means that while I've set the bar high, I am also setting the bar pretty low as to the actual content of these pending posts. Hopefully though the 12 days will be a little encouraging, a little inspiring, somewhat informative, and a little bit of a look back at this most recent trip around the sun. Hopefully. But don't get your hopes up.

So. All of that to say "Merry Christmas!" "I hope you are enjoying this season!" and "I'll be back here in a couple of weeks!" In the meantime, if you need me I'll be in Santa's Workshop hammering out a dozen or so posts. ...Or maybe I'll be tied up in traction once I finally work up the nerve to advance to Level 2 of The 30 Day Shred.

A Fine Fall.

2011-11-26T10:46:00.005-05:00

I had intended to write about my favorite month of the dozen that we have during it. Now I can barely remember October. Since November has shaped up rather nicely, I am finally getting around to paying tribute to the greatest season: Fall. I know all four seasons have purpose and they make the world go around and all of that jazz, but I think that here in the South the fall reigns supreme. Why yes, I can make such a broad and bold statement based solely on my opinion. Democracy in action, people.

What makes the fall so great? Let's start with the perfect weather that doesn't include suffocating humidity or 1/16" of ice on the roads that equally keep us holed up in our homes for days on end. While I'm on the subject of nature, let's not forget the changing of the leaves in which they transform from bright green to vivid shades of red, gold, and orange. The leaves in the fall is one of the reasons why I especially miss living in Dahlonega during this time of year. Speaking of Dahlonega, another reason why the fall is tops in my book revolves around a little annual festival each year called Gold Rush. It's not so much the painted gourds, lacy toilet seat covers, and seasonal hand-made clothing that makes me look forward to the third weekend in October, but the people you are likely to run into on the streets and the best baked potatoes you'll ever find this side of Heaven and fudge covered apples that are worth the calories and embarrassment of having chocolate all over your face that gets me there.

In fact, I had to put my apple down for a nanosecond this year just long enough to snap this photo. The Square is prime real estate for people watching on this particular weekend. Especially for two gals like us:Oh how I love this picture. It makes me giggle every single time I see it. We are quite comfortable with our dork status. And it doesn't really take a sign to state the obvious. I am so glad that Katie and I were able to spend the afternoon together catching up, lunching, snacking, and shopping. Let me just go ahead and clear up any rumors or speculation as to the contents in Katie's shopping bag. It does not contain a painted gourd, lacy toilet seat cover, or cardigan adorned with wooden shapes of Christmas trees and angels. There are some really good finds to be found there too. Especially the pottery selection! Other good finds include Shelley:
It did my little heart such good to catch up with her and her family while sitting on the sidewalk and eating our Holy Spuds. No, it's not a religious festival only Southern Baptists flock to each year. The Baptist kiddos just sell baked potatoes to raise money for missions. Her girls are so much fun and growing up so, so fast. They will be fantastic babysitters for my little Korean children that I'm going to adopt one day. There was time spent with other dear friends that weekend too, but once baby E christened my shirt there were no more photo ops. Baby E is just cute and sweet enough though, that I didn't mind the christening one little bit.

Speaking of cute and sweet babies, there is another one who will be joining us in January. Earlier this month, we were able to celebrate Katie and the pending arrival of baby #2. Kristen and I discovered that we had not seen each other since Katie's last baby shower a couple of years ago. Looks like Katie is going to have to keep having babies in order for Kristen and I to keep seeing each other!
Yes, as a matter of fact I was wearing my Easter dress in early November. Remember my previous statement about perfect weather? Fast forward just 4 short days and I found myself in C-O-L-D Chicago wishing that I had remembered to pack my ear warmers. It was a nice trip though despite the sub-arctic temps. Sure, there's a chance that I'm being a teensy bit dramatic when I refer to the temps as sub-arctic but what little time I have spent in the Midwest during the cold weather months gives me new understanding as to why so many of them gravitate to Florida after retirement. I enjoyed seeing the Macy's downtown all decorated for Christmas and I was able to get in a quick conversation with Santa to discuss a few items on my list for this year.

So now I'm all caught up to the present where I find myself still recovering from my Thanksgiving hangover. And by hangover, I mean the kind that comes from too many helpings of mashed potatoes and servings of pumpkin cake. Once again, I am overwhelmed at the thought of counting all of my blessings because I have so very much to be thankful for in my life. I hope that the truth does not get lost in the triteness of that statement. These three are at the top of my gratitude list. [Even though the feeling may not be mutual with Micah since I chose to post the better picture of me than of him. :)]

Soundtrack: Thankful for My Ears that Allow Me to Hear Edition.

2011-11-22T17:21:00.001-05:00

It seems like a month of Sundays has passed since I featured any music on this little blog of mine. In fact, I haven't been writing much of anything lately. [I do love to state the obvious.] To be quite honest, my lack of writing has been rather purposeful. I am very thankful for my little ears that allow me to hear, but sometimes I create a whole bunch of noise (or tune in to a bunch of useless noise) in order to drown out the things that I really need to hear. There's a difference between listening and hearing, I believe. I've been in a season of listening and as a result, learning. And it has been delightful. But it's not like I've been radio silent or anything. If you are a Pandora listener, might I recommend a new station: The Civil Wars with a little added variety of Christy Nockels. Trust me on this one, folks. Speaking of...

Poison and Wine - The Civil Wars. They were supposed to be in Atlanta back in October, but JP (that's what his closest friends call him) caught a bad case of the funk. The show has been rescheduled for December 10. Personally I hope that they are staying in quarantine until then because I have tickets and I don't know if my little heart can take the disappointment of a second cancelled show.

Beautiful Day - U2. Confession: This is probably my least favorite U2 song ever. However, I heard it on the radio the other day and there was a line that just stuck out to me: "What you don't have you don't need it now." -So. Very. True. I wonder if Bono would believe this if he lost his sunglasses, though?

World Spins Madly On - The Weepies. Why am I discovering The Weepies so late in life? I love them in spite of their melancholy moniker. Even though, technically it's not a moniker, but their actual group name.

Broken Glass - Mayaeni. I think I heard this on a TV show recently. Which one? No clue. If I had to guess it would be Parenthood or Grey's Anatomy. Speaking of let's take a television time out: Why is Adam Braverman smooching the young hot adminisntrative assistant when his wife is raising his autistic son and newborn daughter? So disappointing, Adam Braverman. So disappointing. You are better than that. And you will pay for those actions.

Clean Getaway - Maria Taylor. I swear I'm not as gloomy and depressed as this playlist might imply. I just listen to mellow music at work as opposed to oh let's say Rage Against the Machine or System of a Down because listening to those tunes would create an attitude in me contrary to the state of Georgia customer service initiative.

The Beat - Ben Rector. Who is Ben Rector and why did I decide that I like his music? No clue, but this was catchy so I decided that I liked it.

Faster - Matt Nathanson. I love how Matt Nathanson opens for Sugarland. And that's all I have to say about that.

Shake It Out - Florence + The Machine. Not to be confused with shakin' it like a Polaroid picture. I heard this on SNL last week and I think I like it. Flo is a little bit of a fiery and intimidating redhead who makes questionable fashion choices, but who am I to judge? Not me because my house is made of glass and hers is probably made of crystal now that the dog days are over for her.

Shelter - Ray LaMontagne. I. Love. Ray. I wish he would sing me lullabies at bedtime every night. Clarification: I don't want to marry Ray. I just want him to sing me to sleep.

How Great Thou Art - I love the Charlie Hall version, but they are all fantastic. Why? Because it reminds us of this: "And when I think, that God, His son not sparing / Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in / That on the Cross, My burden gladly bearing, He bled and died to take away my sin." And that, my friends, is something that I am so thankful for during this season of giving thanks.

I could care less about your vector, Victor.

2011-11-14T16:47:00.003-05:00

I originally started this post last week from the airport, but I was sans internet connection so I'm just getting around to actually finishing it and sharing it with the world! Er, my three readers.

Fact: The airport is one of my favorite places on earth. I love to fly. I would travel somewhere every week if my job (and salary) allowed me to do so. I especially love super busy airports. Lucky me that the "world's busiest" is also "my" airport!

As I write this, it is 9:55 a.m. I've been here since 7:15. I knew that something was amiss when I settled in at my assigned gate with my freshly brewed Seattle's Best and blueberry muffin and instead of Chicago, the destination posted was Valdosta. [Who flies to Valdosta?!?] It turned out that my flight was cancelled. I do not love cancellations, but that is a matter absolutely beyond my control. [Someone's life lessons in control are paying off, aren't they?]

Now that I've had a couple of extra hours here, I've had the opportunity to make and note a few observations:
When going through security with an infant in a car seat, please don't kick said infant carrier to move it forward. I'm not a parent, but my gut instinct tells me to kick the bag and carry the baby instead of vice versa.

When using a public restroom, please close and lock the stall door, m'am. My eyes have seen things this morning they were not prepared to see. Ever.

When flights are cancelled, the nicer you are to the cranky ticket agent, the nicer she will become and the harder she will try to get you on an earlier flight.

One should not spray rose scented perfumey stuff one moment and then proceed to cough all over fellow travelers sitting in close proximity to you when waiting at the gate.

Is there a place in the airport that sells fried salmon patties? What is that woman across from me eating and why does it smell like fried salmon patties?!?! Isn't 10:06 a.m. a wee bit early to be eating fried salmon patties? I wish that whatever this food that she is consuming would be banned by the TSA.

I have no idea how all of these people are going to fit on the plane. And why did the guy on the speaker just say that we are going to Pensacola? I'm far too overdressed for a trip to the beach.

All of these important and nicely dressed business folks who are looking at their phones with furrowed eyebrows and furiously typing on their touchscreen phones? I suspect that it's not business, but a mean game of Angry Birds or Words With Friends.

A fun game that I like to play when waiting is to try to guess where people are going based on what they are wearing. Something makes me think that the guy in plaid shorts and flip flops will not be on my flight.

I'm kind of torn when it comes to airport chit-chat. Like, when people make general statements to no one in particular, but I obviously hear them, am I obligated to respond? I vote no.

There's a man on my flight who looks just like Ted Kennedy. Except I know it's not him because well, Ted has gone to glory and this gentlemen has the last name of Briggs and needs to make a reservation for December 12, 13, and 14. So I've heard him shout between curse words at least eleventy-dozen times. I hope he's not my seat row buddy, but I would choose him over Miss Salmon Patty, I believe. [Fun fact: The ghost of Ted Kennedy, Mr. Briggs, was my seat row buddy!]

After one cancelled flight, and three more delays and sitting on the plane for 30 minutes, we are finally on our way. Phones, laptops, electronics are all powered down. Oh, what's that you say, Mr. Pilot? We've traveled no less than the distance of a football field, and we're going to sit here so it's ok to turn on our cellular devices? Got it.

You know how some pilots are all business and some pilots need either a dog or a therapist based on the amount of chatter that comes from the cockpit? The pilot on today's flight was chatty. He proudly informed us when we flew over Kentucky and into southern Indiana. I admit, that I don't mind when they point out landmarks or give a little update so I can get an idea of where we are in relation to where we're going. However, when we were about 60 miles out, Mr. Delta, announces over the intercom that we've been put into a holding pattern. He then starts all this talk about our vector and how the tower is flipping the runway because the wind has changed so they have to change the direction of the incoming and outgoing flights. So, that's all well and good and really cool if you think about it. BUT as I looked outside of my window, there was nothing to see but fog. I know, I know, their instruments see for them, but what happens if a pilot was checking his Facebook status or texting while flying or changing the music on his iPod and missed the whole announcement about rerouting all traffic in one little circle of a holding pattern? I would have regretted the will power I exercised to resist eating a half-dozen Krystal burgers after spending what amounted to half a work day in the airport, for one thing. What screams "perfect last meal" better than a bag of teensy tiny fake hamburgers? Obviously that didn't happen and these people are pros at this kind of stuff, but I couldn't help but to giggle just a little bit when he was talking because I felt a little bit like I was living the Seinfeld stand up routine that he does about pilots.

My return flight was equally as entertaining. I sat next to an airplane mechanic. As in, when I boarded the plane and sat down beside him, he was pouring buckets of sweat and eating his sandwich like he was due back down there to tighten one more bolt before take off. He was super tall and reminded me very much of my dad (minus the fact that dad always swore he would never fly and this man has to fly in order to get to work some days). We had a very interesting and educational conversation about the frequency in which the tires on a plane are changed as well as the distance allowed between planes when in flight. Any guesses? I focused on that information instead of his statement about how he had been working non-stop without any sleep for a day and a half. I think that when I make my recommendation to the TSA about banning airport foods that are noxious to the olfactory nerves, I will also recommend that the people responsible for fixing the metal capsules that shoot us through the air at fast rates of speed get a full eight hours of sleep each night.

11.11.11

2011-11-11T20:56:00.005-05:00

Do you all remember back when we were kids and had a "favorite" of everything? Favorite color, favorite cartoon character, favorite superhero, favorite sports teams, favorite this, favorite that, favorite number. In fact, we still play favorites in adulthood. It just so happens that when I was a little girl my favorite number was 11. And why wouldn't it be? It is a prime number. It's symmetrical. If numbers could be palindromes, 11 would be one. What's better than one number 1, but two 1's right together? Nothing! It's greater than 10 so there's never that whole debate between spelling it out or just writing the actual number in formal writing. But at the end of the day, the real reason why I dubbed 11 as my favorite is because when I was a softball player (slow pitch...completely different than fast pitch), Daddy was the coach and his number was 00. Therefore, in my childlike rationale, I selected 11, and it just kind of stuck. If I had the foresight to realize that in my lifetime I would see the date written as 11.11.11, it would have been more than my geeky little brain could have handled. This morning in the paper I read about a set of twins who are celebrating their 11 birthday today. I was a little bit jealous.

Today is about so much more than six 1's lined up when we write the date though. It's about recognizing that as a child, I was free to fill my mind with things like choosing my favorite number for the back of my softball jersey. In fact, I am still free to fill my mind with such trivial matters into adulthood. I've written about the significance of this day before here. It's a day to think about why I was fortunate enough to live a carefree and peaceful childhood that has carried over into my older and wiser years.

Earlier tonight during my drive from the airport to home, I was thinking about what a terrible news week it has been. Babies are missing and their mothers are suspects. Heinous and cruel acts against innocent boys that could have and should have been prevented have been brought to light. There are people who desperately want jobs so that they can feed their families when there is another group of people who are walking around with an over-inflated sense of entitlement and their response is to simply do nothing until someone does something for them. Countries are on the brink of defaulting on their loans which puts world markets at risk of just toppling right over. All of this is enough to make those of us reading about it feel like we are carrying the weight of the world on our shoulders. Yet for others, it's their present reality and it's a never-ending nightmare. I sometimes have the tendency to get so overwhelmed in all the negative, it's a challenge to remember and celebrate the good. I believe in the importance of striking a balance between the two.

I still do not, nor will I ever, understand why God saw fit in his infinite grace for me to be born in the United States versus some other part of the world that does not have the first-world problems that I am accustomed to. Yet, I am so thankful that I have been given the opportunity to live in this great nation. I will celebrate that. I am also going to celebrate the men and women who love this country so much that they put it and its citizens above themselves and their own families time and time again in order for this great nation to remain just that: great.
Earlier today when I was still at O'hare, I saw this man holding his baby boy before he handed him back to his wife as he said good-bye. So on this 11th day of the 11th month in the year 2011, I celebrate the family members too because it is truly a family sacrifice when mom or dad isn't at home to see the first steps or ballet recital or simply share an evening meal together.

While Veterans Day is a day to honor and celebrate our Veterans, I think it's also a time for the rest of us to look inward to discover ways in which too we can serve our country. The burden of responsibility does not lie solely with those who wear the uniforms. We all have something to give because we all have been given so much.

Next Stop: Fountain of Youth.

2011-09-13T12:25:00.005-04:00

Today I learned that the 6th grade is not the place to go in order to boost one's ego. Actually, I learned this in 1990 as a 6th grader so technically I guess today I was just reminded of this fact. Last month I wrote about my experience with a 6th grade class. At the time I had no intention of a recap of my monthly meeting with them turning into a regular segment on this little blog o'mine. And by "regular", I mean "occurring more than once." ...just so we're clear on that.

This morning I asked the question "How old do you think the oldest student at the college I work at is?" A student from the back exclaims: "37!!" Awesome. [The real answer for those of you playing along at home is 84.] I don't really know what happened next, all I know is that suddenly, one student informed me that I was "middle-aged". Really? From the current outbreak happening on my face, I can see why someone might confuse me for a 16 year old boy, but middle-aged? I think not!

So at the end of my presentation, I once again opened up for the floor for questions about going to college or my job, etc. Big mistake. Huge. Because here's how that went down:

Question 1: "Are you married?"
Just Me...HP: "No."

Question 2: "Well, do you at least have any kids?"
Just Me...HP: "No." [In my mind I'm thinking "thank heavens" when I answer this one considering my answer to #1.]

Question 3: "Don't you get lonely?"
Just Me....HP: [as I'm wiping the tears from my eyes and curling up into the fetal position...oh, kidding!] "Nope, I've got plenty of time still for marriage and babies."
Little boy who earlier reported that one of his favorite activities is eating pork chops, collard greens, and cornbread: "Well, my mama, she 33 and I a whole lot older than yo' babies gonna be when you finally have 'em."

The whole thing is really quite hilarious. I don't feel a minute over oh let's say 24, but the truth is, I'm getting older. But here's a fun little fact: When I started the 6th grade, my mama was also 33, and I thought she was o-l-d. [Hi, mom! Love you!] It wasn't until she had a baby at the end of my freshman year of college at the age of 41 though that I actually point blank told her that she was old. What's that they say about karma?

The day after that day.

2011-09-12T10:36:00.002-04:00

This morning when I woke up I wasn't exactly sure what day it was or even where I was for that matter. That, my pals, is a sure sign of either a wild night out or a good night's sleep. Considering I was in my jammies watching 20/20 by 9:00, you can use your good sense to figure out which one I experienced. Once I realized that it was in fact Monday, I rolled myself out of bed and began going through the motions of getting ready for the day just as all responsible working adults do on a daily basis. Soon my thoughts turned to the same thoughts that I have been having for about the last week or so leading up to the 10 year anniversary of 9/11. Honestly, I've said about all I can say about that specific day and my feelings regarding it here and here.

However, this year I have been thinking a great deal about the day (and all the other days) that followed. When I woke up on the morning of September 12, 2001, I was a little shell-shocked. Sure, I was safe. All the people that I loved were safe. But for the first time in my 22 years on this earth, I woke up with the understanding that there were no guarantees that this would always be the case. There was the possibility of a "next time". Not only that, there were still so many unknowns about "this time". For the families who were directly impacted, that Wednesday was simply a continuation of the seemingly unending nightmare that began on Tuesday. For the rest of us, it was our first "regular" day in a post-9/11 world. We rolled out of bed, we brushed our teeth, we fixed our breakfast, just as we did the day before and the one before that. I am so glad that we did. Sure, there was pain in our hearts and anger and confusion brewing just below the surface, but we got up and met our new day.

It has become my belief that our response to events in life define us even more so than the actual event itself. What would have happened if on that morning, we as a nation had simply pulled the covers back over our heads and stayed in bed because we were frozen with fear? What would have happened if that initial anger we all felt remained lodged within us? Would it have eventually evolved into sheer hatred that creates nothing but hardened hearts? Who would have those folks with missing and lost loved ones have looked to for strength had they not had our prayers or had we not rallied around them with compassion in their time of greatest need? Not only that, what if we had remained in our little silos of safety and solitude? What would we look like today as a nation? Some may argue that we are a dismal sight anyway given the economy and the this and the that, but when I read the "World" section from any news website or hear first-hand my international students talk about conditions and the way of life in their home countries, I am reminded that I am still going to sleep each night in the greatest place on this planet.

I am sorry that our world and way of life that we had always known changed so dramatically beginning with the day after that day. I am sorry that I have to say to my international students more often than not "well, since 9/11..." It is a standard phrase that I have always known in my entire working career. I am sorry that each time I get on an airplane I scan the faces of my fellow travelers. I do it almost subconsciously now, yet I still do it. More than anything, I am sorry that a handful of people made the decision to participate in a horrible plan that took away the freedom and lives of thousands of innocent people.

Yet the thing that alleviates my sorrow over all of those things is the pride that I have in knowing that on the day after that day, those of us who were able to, got up and met our new day.

God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells. God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.

The LORD Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Come and see what the LORD has done,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
He makes wars cease
to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the shields with fire.
He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”

The LORD Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

-Psalm 46

I'm just glad Bob Ross will never see it.

2011-09-01T00:30:00.001-04:00

In elementary school I hated arts and craft time. I cringed each year during VBS when I had to create some sort of popsicle stick masterpiece and my stomach still hurts a little bit when I think back to that terrible ornament constructed during my stint as a Brownie Girl Scout from fabric scraps and one of those foam ball things found in craft sections of Wal-Mart all across the land that hung on my mama's Christmas tree for at least a decade. Why did I hate such activities? Because I suck at them, that's why. I decided at a pretty young age that it was best for me to stick with the things that I'm good at and forget the stuff that I'm less than mediocre at doing. Practice makes perfect? Bah! There's no amount of practice in the world that could hone my art skills beyond that of an average 6 year-old.

So. Now that you all know this about me, I will continue with today's post.

A couple of weeks ago, some pals and I went to one of those places that are the current trendy rage. You know what I'm talking about...you go with your favorite gal pals with a bottle or two of wine in tow in order to drink and paint the night away. In theory, each artist is supposed to walk away with her very own canvas creation that closely mirrors that of the instructor's. Rarely do theory and reality ever mirror each other though. But it wasn't about the actual artwork...it was about the fun and good memories to be made with my people. When the day o' fun arrived, I called one of those two pals in the afternoon prior to meeting. This particular friend is a bit Type A. And she loves a good set of clear instructions. Plus, she likes to be really good at the things she does. [Sometimes I wonder why we are even friends...it's like we cannot relate to each other at all.] In our conversation I confessed my heightened anxiety level over having to paint something in front of complete and total strangers who would for sure be comparing their work to my own work. I knew immediately that I had made a wise choice in calling her because instead of talking me down from my unnecessary ledge, she too confessed that she had created a mantra of "it's just circles, it's just circles, how hard can it be?" in order to prepare for the evening. After a couple of minutes, we checked ourselves before we wrecked ourselves and decided that of course we could do this because after all, according to the picture on the calendar we were just going to be painting circles so it really couldn't possibly be that hard.

Y'all. Have you any idea how difficult it is to paint circles?!?!

Look at me ruining the end of the story. However, it should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me even a little bit that I struggled with painting a bunch of circles. Especially after I tell you all that no where in the place was a finished version of the creation we were supposed to paint. This means that I could see no further than the canvas right in front of me. Sure, the instructor was painting at the same time we were, but I like to see the ultimate goal of what I am trying to get to and then work backwards in a sense to try to get there.

So over the course of a couple of hours on that particular evening, I had the opportunity to ruin a perfectly good blank canvas. But not really. Now that I have an advanced degree in adult learning theory, I'm always looking for the meaning in my experiences. What I lack in painting ability I make up for in analytical prowess.

The truth is that painting a canvas full of undefined circles is one of the best exercises that I could have participated in. Why? Because I have an aversion to the abstract. I love symmetry. I love clearly defined lines. They are even. They are clean without jagged edges. Clean, symmetrical lines look even better on a black and white canvas. Oh, how I love things to be black and white. Why do color printers even have a "gray scale" option? Who needs gray? Not this girl.

I know what some of you may be thinking because I've thought it multiple times in the last 2.5 years: How in the world did this poor girl ever make it this far in life? [Answer: Grace. Not my own, by the way.] Painting a picture of circles without having any circles to look at and go by took me completely out of my comfort zone. I mean...I didn't have a protractor so my circles were not perfect circles. And then I got all sorts of caught up in trying to make the circles within the circles even and the same width. Don't even get me started on color selection. Yes, as a matter of fact I should have drank more than one glass of wine because I would have been much less concerned with symmetry and circle width and color selection.

Nope, this is not some big epiphany that I experienced for the first time in my 32 years. It's yet another reminder of what I've known for quite some time: Life is not black and white. It is not symmetrical with clearly defined lines. There really can be no finished product and pattern to work from because we are all unique individuals. Even when we model our behavior and make decisions based on the influence of others, it looks a little bit different than it would look if another person behaved the same exact way and made the same exact decisions. We never really know what the final product is going to look like until it's done.

When I really think about it, as much as I love lines, they just create a box. Boxes are constraining. Once full, there is no room for anything else in it. Because I'm human, I'm ultimately going to want more than what there is room for in a box. And regardless of whether I want it or not, I'm given things on a daily basis that I would have never even have thought about making room for in my little limited-vision box in the first place.

Remember that reference to grace earlier? For me, it's one of the most abstract things in the world. Just as I am incapable of painting perfect circles, I am incapable of understanding God's perfect grace. But just like the paint filled my ugly, broken and uneven circles and eventually made them whole, his grace fills our ugly, broken, and uneven lives and eventually makes us whole.

Look out for a better outlook.

2011-08-24T21:40:00.002-04:00

Preface: If you ended up here after searching for helpful MS Office Outlook hints, you are barking up the wrong tree. Good luck though in finding that out-of-office assistant feature in the most recent version. I once heard about a girl who spent her entire lunch hour plus some looking for it.

It seems to me that as humans, we love to identify ourselves according to our habits, preferences, styles, beliefs, etc. For example, you're either Team Edward or Team Jacob [and don't act like you're above knowing who Edward and Jacob are]. There are night owls and early risers. There are beach people and mountain people. Sure, it's a bit presumptuous of me to make such a claim since I represent only one member of the six-billion plus population, but that social psychology class that I took in undergrad totally qualifies me to do so. For the purposes of this post, it's appropriate that I identify myself as a night owl who would live in a valley surrounded by mountains on all sides [with Edward Cullen, but that's beside the point]. So knowing these fun facts about yours truly, why in the world did I subject myself to the torture of waking up day after day before sunrise while on vacation? Because I was looking for this:
When I was at the beach last September, I took this picture of the sunrise on my last morning there. Some of you may remember that I even wrote about it here. I was inspired. I was wowed. Quite frankly, the weeks leading up to my recent vacation were full of stress and long hours at the office and all of those other things that everybody else deals with on a daily basis in this little rat race that we call life. These factors helped me to develop an inflated sense of entitlement and led me to believe that I was overdue for another "wow" moment. Therefore, I set off in search of one. On Wednesday the sunrise was well, eh. Hakuna matata though because we still had a few more days at the beach. Thursday morning, I cursed my inner need to experience sunrise on the coast of the Atlantic as I stumbled out of bed, put on my best pre-dawn beach attire, found my glasses, camera, and phone and began my two minute journey from hotel room to sand.

Here is evidence that I was up and at 'em at an absurd hour because y'all, you can see the moon in this picture. [It's the tiny little silver sliver in the top center if your eyesight isn't 20/20.]
Much to my dismay, more evident to me than the presence of the moon was the presence of the clouds along the horizon.
I was quite certain that the sun was going to come up directly behind one of those big clouds. What? No, my glass is not half-empty, thankyouverymuch. It's just that I'm a realist. Oh look, there on the left...there's some pink on the top tip of that big cloud.
What's that I spy with my little eyes? More pink?
Oooh...the pink is bringing along some orange with it now. I suppose it could be worse.
But hey, look at this junk that's literally right here in front of me. I wonder if that bird has avian flu? Probably, it looks weird. Hmmm, what's the turquoise thing right there? That's shiny. Ugh, why is seaweed so weedy? If only the sand could be this cool in the middle of the day as opposed to burning the skin off the bottom of my feet hot like it was yesterday. Wait? Why am I out here during the 6 o'clock hour in the first place?
That's right. I remember now. I'm in search of a breath-taking sunrise. Speaking of which, what's that tiny orange dot that I see illuminating the clouds and is beginning to crest on the horizon?

And then over the next few moments, what I had already decided was going to be a poor performance by mother nature, evolved into the center of our universe [for those heliocentrists out there] revealing itself so clearly that the brightness burned my eyes to the point that I finally had to stop looking directly at it. This sunrise happened 4 weeks ago. Yet I have thought about it almost every single day since then. In fact, I started writing this post on August 11, and I had to take a break until tonight because often my simple little mind takes its sweet time thinking and reflecting and processing the "big" stuff. I feel like it would be a waste if I didn't record the "big" stuff [I'm a wordsmith at work, blogosphere.] here for the sake of posterity. I never know when I'm going to need the reminder. Twenty minutes spent on a beach in South Florida one Thursday morning in late July has reminded me of the following:

I do not have the ability to predict outcomes. No matter how clear and obvious it seems in the beginning, my human eyes do not have the ability to see beyond what is right in front of them.

Speaking of right in front of me, all too often I get distracted with the junk that's in my direct line of vision. When I look at the junk, my view never changes. And while that view never changes, there is a whole world changing around me. I was reminded that my focus is so important to my perspective and outlook. Sure, the junk is sometimes shiny and pretty and tangible and more appealing and more immediate than what I'm waiting on. Yet when the shiny and pretty and tangible becomes used and less appealing, all too often I act surprised and find myself wondering why I wasted so much time staring at junk. Junk could be television or drama among people in our lives or that Facebook friend's that you haven't seen since middle school vacation pictures from 2009. When it comes right down to it, I don't want to get so distracted with the junk that I miss what I'm looking for in the first place. Kind of like I almost did on that Thursday morning at the beach when I was waiting for the sun to rise. Recently I read this C.S. Lewis quote from The Screwtape Letters. Typically I avoid Lewis because his writing makes my brain hurt. But I do love it when seemingly unrelated events [sunrise and random book reading 2 weeks later] weave themselves together so I am going to share this quote. Don't be afraid to read it twice, or four times, in order to get it. "Let his inner resolution be not to bear whatever comes to him, but to bear it "for a reasonable period" -and let the reasonable period be shorter than the trial is likely to last. It need not be much shorter...the fun is to make the man yield just when (he had but known it) relief was almost in sight." This quote is from the perspective of the antagonist, by the way. In other words, don't get so impatient and frustrated waiting for a pretty sunrise, Heather, that you give up and get distracted by the insignificant stuff right in front of you.

Just as I cannot predict outcomes, I am incapable of timing events to the nanosecond. Sure, I used my handy smart phone to get a general idea of when the sun was supposed to rise that day, but what exactly does that mean? Is it daybreak? Is it when the sun first peeks over the horizon? Is it when it's fully visible over the horizon? The picture is different at each of those stages. Oh how I would love to be able to predict timing of events. I am a planner to the Nth degree. Yet, if I knew the precise moment and could plan my life accordingly, then I would have literally rolled out of bed 4 minutes before hand just in time to throw on my glasses, shoes, and get to the beach. I would have missed those pink tipped clouds. I would have missed the sliver of moon still visible in the sky. The blinding sun would not have been as glorious because I would have not known those dark clouds that came right before it. The end of a book doesn't really make that much sense unless we've read the chapters leading up to the final sentence.

Try as I might, I cannot control the final outcome of events. Yes, I realized that I mentioned outcomes initially. Yet, obviously it deserves another mention because I am challenged (ahem) when it comes to relinquishing control. I went to the beach looking for and expecting a sunrise like I witnessed last September. On Wednesday, it was boring, but I knew that the sun was going to rise the next day [good Lord willing, that is]. So I went back with the hope and expectation that it was going to be a good show. And it was. Not like I would have predicted, not even like I imagined in my "ideal" sunrise, yet it was glorious. It was new. It was unique to that day. I am glad that my imagination is no better than my eyesight because it sure does make the final outcomes much sweeter.

The view changes quickly. I have been reminded of this more than my little imagination could have ever imagined over the last week. Once the tip of the sun rose above where the sky meets the ocean, it seemed like only seconds until it was fully revealed. If I had taken my eyes off of it for even a second, I would have missed a significant part. I have learned that I must be ready for the view to change because once it starts, it's not going to stop. Then again, perhaps it does. Not so much stop, but just sets like the sun. Fortunately, where I'm at now with this particular situation, it's about 11:00 in the morning which is a pretty good place to be. Life and experience have taught me that if the sun sets or the ship sails or whatever trite analogy you want to insert here happens, then another opportunity or option will come. Not comparable to the one we have held onto from our memory. Different. Better. Brighter. Yet the source is always the same.

"Why did you look so sad?"

2011-08-16T16:18:00.007-04:00

This morning I had the opportunity to speak with a class of 6th graders because I participate in a local area adopt-a-class program. I know what some of you are thinking: "Ugh, middle school." To be honest, I was kind of thinking that myself as I prepared my presentation. Who here remembers middle school? Perhaps the better question is, who here remembers middle school fondly?

I must admit that these kiddos were the highlight of my day. Perhaps it's because we are only in the second week of school and the 6th grade group is still doe-eyed and excited about all things related to middle school. Or perhaps it's because I didn't give them enough credit. To my surprise they were full of questions which is a nice change of pace from the high school seniors who know all there is to know about everything that typically fill my normal work day. A few questions included:

"How old do you have to be to go to college?"

"How old were you when you went to college?"

"Are you married?"

"How old is the oldest person to go to college?"

"Who are New Kids on the Block?" [Just go with it.]

But my favorite was when a little boy asked "Why did you look so sad?"

His question was in regards to this:
As my introduction, I included slides that explained that it was 1990 when I was their age, George H.W. Bush was president, etc. And then I included 3 pictures of myself from my 6th grade year. This move would have been complete social suicide 20 years ago. Fortunately my peers are no longer 11, and I wore my hair straight today as a means of boosting my confidence when I showed the pictures.
Why did I look so sad? Let me count the reasons:

I was wearing glasses that both Sally Jesse Raphael and Steve Urkel would have beaten me up in a dark alley to take for their own.

My hair was 4 times bigger than my actual head.

I was wearing a blazer. With shoulder pads. At the age of 11.

And pantyhose. Why in the world was I wearing pantyhose at the age of 11 underneath pants?

The only things that I had going for me were the impeccably tight-rolled pants [Why not jeans? I'll cover that in therapy next week.] and my sweet Moon watch. Technically that's not the technical name, but those of you born in the late 70's and very early 80's know exactly what kind of watch I'm talking about. Or at least you should if you were half as cool as I was in middle school.

My Summer Vacation. Brought to you by the letter "S".

2011-08-05T14:47:00.009-04:00

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words which you all should be thankful for in this particular situation. Instead of an 8,000 word post, I present to you all here in the blogosphere 8 pictures that best sum up my vacation last week. Quite frankly, I couldn't muster up the energy to type 8,000 words right now if my life depended upon it. [Good thing I didn't leave my flair for the dramatic at the beach, huh?] This week of going to work for 5 whole days in a row for 8 hours at a time has worn me out. I think the only remedy is a vacation.

Side note: Blogger has frustrated me beyond measure because I did not upload these pictures in this order. And I can't get them to move. I don't so much think it's the pictures' refusal to move as opposed to the operator's inability to make it happen.

Without further ado...

Starbucks.

I'm sure my mid-afternoon lethargy in this office this week has no connection to our morning and afternoon vacation ritual.

Sunrise.

Tuesday was the only morning I was not up in time for the sunrise. Primarily because I had been up since 3:00 am on Monday morning in time for the 7:15 flight.

Sand.

South Florida sand is different than North Florida sand. There's really not much that gets by me.

"Sexy" Senior Citizens in Speedos.

I'm pretty sure he was an extra in the movie "Where the Boys Are" that was set in Ft. Lauderdale. In 1960. I'm also pretty a sure that a more appropriate "S" descriptor is "scary".

Surf and Sun.

As a matter of fact, I did go through an entire bottle of SPF 45 and SPF 70 sunscreen in a 5 day period.

Sweet Snacks.

My daily Starbucks habit was aided and abetted by my daily ice cream shop habit.

Shark Attacks.

My grandma told me before we left to look out for sharks because they were coming out of the deeper waters and closer to shore. Turns out, she was right.

Standing in Line.

You know how Moses led the people through the wilderness for 40 years and he never actually made it to the promised land? I can totally relate.

In conclusion, a good time was had by all.

More vacation, please.

2011-07-30T23:52:00.011-04:00

I just got back from vacation. It was grand and glorious and relaxing. I'm sure those three words were the exact ones that came to your mind upon seeing the above picture. And just as soon as I finish painting clothes on the other inappropriately dressed vacationers, I'll be back with another post. Patience, please. There's a chance that it's going to take me at least until this time next year to get all of those edits done.

Soundtrack: Never Too Busy for Tunes Edition.

2011-07-07T12:39:00.008-04:00

Hello, blogosphere. It's Just Me...HP and it has been something like 22 days since my last posting. I have been busy. My computer is still busted. And I really have nothing of importance to say. Nonetheless, for the last month or so I have been keeping a running list ON MY PHONE (How smart is that?!?!) of songs that I hear, love, take note of, and think to myself "if I ever blog about music again, I should feature it." Well, today is the day, folks. Carpe diem.

Edge of Glory by Lady Gaga. I know, right? What a tee-total let down for me to start with Lady Gaga. I do have a little bit of conflict over whether I should love her or hate her. And then I tend to experience a little bit of guilt when I find myself swaying over to the team love side. She is weird. She is over the top. But yet I somehow know all the words to her songs that are on the radio. So I blame it on mainstream media. Moment of silence for the Big Man (Clarence Clemons) who happens to be in this video. Moment of silence for you if you don't know who he is.

Don't Forget Me the Neko Case version. I can't help but be a fan of this fiery red head since I was introduced to her music a couple of months ago.

For Good from Wicked. Ok, so maybe I've been keeping this list longer than a month. I added this when I heard Rachel sing it on Glee. Whenever that was. This version that I'm trying to include today but Blogger has yet to let me is with Kristin Chenoweth. [I gave up...google it yourself if you are interested in hearing it. ...Great news, I installed Firefox and now Blogger is cooperative. Oh happy day.]

Hallelujah by Heather Williams. I think it goes without saying that if the song title is Hallelujah then it's going to be gold. (Think Jeff Buckley). But this is a Jesus hallelujah song. And I really like it a lot. And I have lost the ability to insert hyperlinks. Do you think it's me or the computer? Totally, the computer. [It WAS totally the computer.] The chorus is by far my favorite part. Why? Because I too stumble and fall every. single. day. And I'm in need of God's grace every. single. day.

Someone Like You by Adele. Do y'all think Adele was going through a bit of an emotional time when she wrote the songs to her 21 album? How unfortunate that her career will be over when she's happy in her personal life.

The Cave by Mumford & Sons. Thanks to my pal, Erin, I was Mumford & Sons when Mumford & Sons wasn't cool. And now that they are cool, I'm still Mumford & Sons.

With or Without You by U2. So cliche, isn't it? But. There are some songs that no matter how many times you've heard them or no matter what point the song is at when you are scanning the stations, you just have to stop and listen to it. Or am I the only one who has habits like this? I suspect it's habit #8 of highly effective people. Well, nonetheless, this song is one of those songs for me. Others include: The Gambler by Kenny Rogers, Patience by GNR, Brass Monkey by Beastie Boys, and Purple Rain by Prince. I do this with movies too. Top Gun, anyone? [I never claimed that they were all good songs or good movies.]

Runaway by The National. I heard this the other day on Friday Night Lights. Who here is happy that Tim Riggins is a free man? I do believe that he's headed East for Georgia now that he's leaving Dillon. Just a hunch. But then I hope it's not a very good one considering he's a former jail bird who is still a teenager or at most 20. On the other hand, Taylor Kitsch is welcome in Georgia any time.

The Best Thing I Never Had by Beyonce. Amen and amen, Beyonce.

Good Life by OneRepublic. It's all poppy and trendy and blah blah blah. But. It catches my ear every time I see the trailer for Crazy Stupid Love on TV. And it's a great reminder that I really have nothing to complain about. You should probably complain about how I constantly end sentences with prepositions though.

BONUS TRACK!!!
So maybe you all know how I spend major holidays regularly with one half of this duo known as Common Thread. [This link is to one of my current favorite songs of theirs called Tell Me So. But I suggest you listen to all of the songs that are posted off to the right once you go to their YouTube page.] Which I'm so glad that I do. Because he's awesome! She's awesome! They are awesome! As it turns out, they are coming to Atlanta tomorrow night and playing at Smith's Olde Bar. Don't believe me? Check it out here. Then make plans to be there. Or be square. And contrary to what Huey Lewis says...it's NOT hip to be square.

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da...

2011-06-15T16:46:00.003-04:00

If you know me at all then you know that my brain is absolutely full of useless and random knowledge. Who here needs to know what kind of car the Director of Career Services at North Georgia College & State University drove between the years of 1997-2001? Duh, a white Honda Accord...probably a 1995 model. What? You find this odd? If so, then you may also find it odd that while I can remember that kind of information, I cannot for the life of me remember exactly what date it was when my dad passed away. Sure, I vividly remember that I was wearing a turquoise sundress with smocking at the top and that I had watched the movie "Up" [cue Alanis Morrisette's Ironic here] earlier that day and what I had eaten for lunch and how the next afternoon Maggie and Katie drove me back to Athens to help me pack for the visitation and funeral, but as to exactly what day it was in June of 2009...that detail is a blur.

As it turns out, it was June 14 which means that as of yesterday, I have now made two trips around the sun without my dad here with me. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think of him even though when he was still here with us, many days would go by between our conversations. You know what they say about taking things and people for granted? Well, they were right. I do miss him terribly. I've learned that the thing about missing someone is that sadness isn't the only emotion associated with those feelings. Sometimes it's happiness. Other times it's anger. Sometimes it's relief. Relief? Yep, as in "I'm so glad that daddy isn't here to say 'I told you so.'" When I think back over the last two years, I can't even begin to list [nor are you interested in reading] the ways that I have changed and grown. But you know, I've decided that's what we're supposed to do. Even when some of the people that we love aren't here to see it happen. Life really does go on. I think moving forward is one of the greatest ways to honor the loved ones that we have lost. [That's eerily close to a line in the Phi Mu creed without me even intending for it to be.] Just this morning as I was driving from one campus to the other I heard Don Henley's song Dirty Laundry on the radio. Sure, maybe not every child associates this song with their childhood (which is probably a good thing) but I could not help but to smile to myself as I was "rockin' out" and think about the fact that this was a regular hit played during the Friday Night Dance parties in the Page household. Had I heard this song 2 years ago, it would have made me burst into tears because the grief was still too new and the territory of loss too unfamiliar. But the human heart has an amazing ability to heal without developing too much scar tissue around it to block the feeling of any emotion. Trust me on this one.

Perhaps one of the reasons why I can't really remember the date that dad died is because I would rather remember the good than the bad. However, I also believe that healing and moving forward requires us to remember the bad too. Remember how I wrote earlier that sometimes when I miss him that I am also angry? I've learned that anger is also a natural part of loss. I get angry that he chose cigarettes [PSA: PUT OUT YOUR CIGGIES. LIKE NOW. THANKS.] I get angry that he wasn't the kind of dad that doted constantly over his little girl. [But if he had been that dad, my sarcasm would have never lived up to its full potential now would it?] Or I get angry that I didn't work harder at my relationship with him during my adult years. In the first year or so, I felt guilty for getting angry. You know, it's like a rule to not speak ill of the dead or something, right? I find that ironic considering we rarely have a problem speaking ill of people when they are alive and kicking! I've learned that there's a difference though between getting angry and staying angry. Staying angry is what prevents us from moving forward in life.

Two years ago today I wrote what I had the privilege of reading at his funeral. Honestly, I haven't read it since. But I'm posting it here today in the event that I decide to do so in the future. I'm sure there are grammatical errors and typo's and I could have said it differently or better, but it was my heart. And even though he would have never said it out loud to me because for better or for worse that's not the kind of person he was, I know that Daddy was most proud of me when I put my heart into something.

I am much better at putting words on paper than actually speaking them, but today is a special day so I am going to give this my best shot. With any luck, you all will have the opportunity to help me out in these next few moments as I’m speaking by laughing and smiling instead of crying and looking forlorn. Even if nothing that I say is the least bit funny, laugh anyway because we all know that is what my Daddy would prefer. When mama, the boys, and I began to discuss how we wanted him to be remembered, we decided that we wanted it to be done in a manner so that the life that he lived on this earth is celebrated by all of his family and dear friends.

The truth is, it's a hard thing to watch someone you love with all of your heart pass from this world into the next. Especially when that person once stood 6'4" and was the strongest person you knew. Even though it's the natural progression of life for a parent to pass away before a child does, it's also natural for a child to expect that his or her parents are always going to be here. They are mama and daddy and when it seems that nothing else in life is constant, they are.

Selfishly, I'm thinking about all of the things that I still need my daddy for. Who's going to ask me if I have checked the oil in my car lately? Recently he fell down a little bit on this job because it just so happened that I randomly checked my oil and there was essentially none whatsoever in the reserve. And yes, the fact that there was a reminder sticker for my next oil change which was obviously long overdue in the top left hand corner of my windshield is absolutely a moot point. I had no idea that it was possible to receive so many phone calls from the same person in a one mile stretch of road between my apartment and the gas station, but in that moment I was not an irresponsible 30 year old, but simply his little girl and he wanted to make sure that I was going to make it safely without any problems.

Who is going to call me during the middle of my favorite TV show just to say hello? Was it a coincidence that these phone calls typically always took place during the same time each week? I hardly think so. He just liked to keep me grounded by reminding me that people are always more important than TV shows. Who am I kidding? He always did it to simply annoy me beyond measure.

Who is going to remind me of what a wise decision I made to raise and train a Chocolate Lab puppy in a one bedroom apartment? As if the chewed up shoes, furniture, pillows, and kitchen flooring is not reminder enough.

Who is going to give me away on my wedding day? Though I can only imagine the argument that would have ensued when I informed Daddy that wearing overalls to walk me down the aisle was absolutely against proper attire protocol, I find it quite unfortunate that I will never have the chance to have such a discussion.

While on the one hand I feel absolutely cheated and robbed of so many memories that I never got the opportunity to make with my daddy, on the other, I feel so fortunate to have had him for the years that I did. As I think back through the years, it seems as if a flood gate has been opened up and the memories come to mind in flashes one right after the other. If there was a way in which I could bottle them up forever so as not to forget a single one, I would.

Take for instance, the weekend "dance parties" that he, mama, and I had when I was a little girl. He was the DJ while Mama and I would dance up a storm to whatever record was spinning on the turntable. Because of him, I could identify John Fogerty’s voice quicker than the average 6 year-old.

My daddy never got the chance to see the Laser Show at Stone Mountain. It's not that we never went, it's that once we got there, I would freak out over the fact that there was going to be fireworks at the end so Daddy always carried me back out to the car because I was so scared. He finally issued an ultimatum and said that if I ever saw the Laser Show, I would have to drive myself there in order to do so. Now each time I go, I always tell him what a great show he is missing out on and how he really should get down there and see it sometime. Something makes me think that those lasers might look a little piddly compared to the sights he is currently taking in.

Daddy was my softball coach for years. It was the father/daughter activity that he and I did together. It was how we bonded. But the thing is, on the field he treated us all as equals and it wasn’t that I was just another player; it was that we were all his little girls.

I love that daddy was sometimes a bit spontaneous. Take for instance that time he went out and finally bought a VCR because I was at home sick with strep throat and needed something to watch on TV. Because everyone knows that back-to-back episodes of Little House on the Prairie were not adequate enough for a bed ridden elementary schooler. And let’s not even talk about the time he decided to buy me a Nintendo the week before the Christmas when I got a computer as my big gift. …and people wondered why I had such a difficult time relinquishing my only child status at the age of 14.

I’ve never been more thankful for these memories than I am right now.

Daddy was a man who was filled with love.

My daddy loved kids. He was never happier than to just sit and watch kids play or pick at them in his good-natured manner. I cannot tell you the number of little girls he has thoroughly confused by asking them what their name was before they got married. He would have been an incredible grandfather. I'm sorry that my children will never get the opportunity while here on this Earth to know their Grandpa Page.

My daddy loved making people laugh. He was witty, sharp, and absolutely hilarious. Of course I think this because my humor is very much like his…sophisticated. He taught me how to take a joke which is one of the most valuable life lessons I have ever learned. Even though many of those lessons were not always very fun at the time!

My daddy loved his family. How do I know that he loved us? Because one of the Waffle House waitresses that showed up during visitation told me how much he talked to her about his family, that’s how. Not to mention the fact that he told us and showed us that he loved us too.
And this I think is the hardest part about losing him. We all loved him back very much and when you really love someone, these are the people that you take for granted. You say things that maybe you shouldn't say. Or don't say things that you should. How I wish that I could have just one more conversation with him…even if it was during my favorite TV show. I remember the very last thing I said to him on the Sunday afternoon before he was put into the hospital on Tuesday as I was leaving to go back to Athens. Of course I needed him to do something for me, and it breaks my heart to know that this cannot happen now. My heart also breaks when I think about how losing a parent is a big thing for a 30 year old to grasp…I cannot imagine experiencing this at 16 or 11. It breaks my heart to watch my mama grieve the loss of her teammate...her soulmate...the love of her life.

My daddy loved naps. I can remember hours of endless frustration as a child when he would go lie down for just a quick nap…and wake up 2 hours later. But now that I’m older and wiser, I can see that when one works as hard as he did for so many years, a 2 hour nap every now and again is quite justifiable after being worn out from a hard day’s work.

In his last days, he was probably the most tired he had ever been. He fought hard. He defied the odds because his doctor told us twice in 12 days that he would not make it through the night. [Have I mentioned that my daddy was a bit stubborn and liked to do things on his own timeline?] Praise Jesus that my daddy is not tired anymore. He is at rest on this earth, but alive and well and enjoying quite a welcome home party in his new forever home. I don't know if overalls fit the dress code in Heaven, but I like to think that he had a brand new pair waiting for him once he got there.

I’m really going to miss my daddy. But I am so thankful for the time that I had him, and I take comfort in knowing that I will see him again one day. I am most thankful that we both have a Heavenly father who makes this pending reunion possible. So until then, I will rest in God’s promises and celebrate my earthly daddy as I strive to live in a manner that would make them both proud to be my father. And rejoice. I will definitely rejoice. I hope that you all will join me in doing so as well.

“Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice! Let your gentleness be known to all men. The Lord is at hand. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Jesus Christ.” –Philippians 4:4-7

Pomp & Circumstance gets me every. single. time.

2011-05-28T20:54:00.026-04:00

Dear Ethan,
Today you graduated from high school.
That makes you kind of a big deal. But the truth is that in my world, you've always been kind of a big deal. You see, for years I had cried and begged and pleaded with mom and dad to have another kid so I would have someone to play with. [Apparently between the ages of 4-6, I thought they could just go to Kmart or Richway and pick one up on a Saturday afternoon.] By middle school I had accepted and embraced my only child world. Then suddenly during the fall of my 8th grade year, it was rocked when I learned that I was going to have to learn how to share. When you burst onto the scene on June 1, 1993, I got a new title and a new role to play in life: Sister.

Pause. I know what you're thinking: "If you got the title of sister, then why do you always act like my mom?!?" Of course the short answer to that question is "because I'm your older sister and everyone knows that the first born children are always the bossiest [and wisest!], that's why." But the other part of my answer to that question is that when little boys are born, they immediately take up permanent residence in part of the hearts of the women that are the closest to them. I remember telling mom when you were just days old that it was like you had always been here. You just belonged in our family right from the start and you began filling your own unique role the very moment that you took your first breath.

Speaking of your own unique role...you truly are one of a kind. I've always admired [and been a little envious] of your ability to take control of a room and move with ease and confidence in just about any social situation.
It was charming and endearing when you were just learning how to talk because if you said it once, you said "fatch this, Heather, fatch!" a thousand times.
If my friends were over and we ignored your continuous commands to "fatch" your latest and greatest trick, things got a little embarrassing when you would just run as fast as your two-year old little legs would carry you into my room without a stitch of clothing on your naked baby bottom. Needless to say, you got our attention. A bit of sisterly advice: don't reintroduce this party trick during your college years because naked butts are only cute pre-potty training. Today I was honored to "fatch" you walk across the stage and accept your diploma as you reached your latest and greatest milestone. While I'm on the subject of unique, I've always been quite impressed with your unique style. Do you realize that for a couple of years when people would ask you what your name was, you would answer with "Walker, Texas Ranger"? Naturally, you were wearing some combination of boots, a cowboy hat, and holster when you identified yourself as Walker. Some days you were Batman. Other days you were Cowboy Woody.
And don't forget the Power Ranger days either. This day was likely an identity crisis for you, but you sure looked cute in the midst of it. As you've grown, your style has as well. In fact there have been some days that I've wondered if it's grown so much that you're taking fashion advice from the octogenarians at the local retirement home when you walk out wearing your tall black socks and mesh baseball cap from the early 80's. But when the occasion warrants, you can dress up quite nicely too.
Even though you're now a much wiser than you were yesterday high school graduate, there are still plenty of days ahead when as your big sister [who allegedly acts like your mom at times], I will absolutely bug the beejeesus out of you. And you'll roll your eyes at my advice and likely get mad when I continue to carry out my role that you gave me [big sister, in case you've already forgotten]. As lame as it may sound, I do hope that you always know how very proud to be your sister I have always been. It's easy to be proud of you because you are genuinely a good kid. Perfect? Nope. But perfection results in nothing but unnecessary pressure so who needs perfection anyway? As your big sister, I want only the very best things for you. But more than the very best things, I want you to always know and believe that you are capable of achieving and worthy of experiencing the very best things this world has to offer. Here's another bit of free sisterly advice: When I say things, I'm not talking about tangible things that are only going to lose value as they age. I'm talking about continuing to surround yourself with good people and letting the people who love you more than anything continue to love you and living a full and fulfilled life. Doing life with good people brings about moments and experiences that only become more valuable as the memories made in those moments become the stories that you laugh about and share for years on end. While I was bursting with happiness as we celebrated you and your achievements today, I was also sad and sorry that Daddy wasn't here with us. It sucks. It's not fair that your cheering section was missing very key people who I know are very special to you. But while Daddy wasn't there today, I know without a doubt that he was proud of you every single day that he was here in this world playing the role of your dad. You are his first son. The son that he hoped for and wished for and waited for. Just as I had hoped and wished and waited for a little brother or sister for years, he and mom had hoped and wished and waited for a son during those same years. And neither you nor I will ever fully understand just what that means until we have kiddos of our own one day. By the by, I get to have kids first. It doesn't matter if I'm 53 and still unmarried and you're 39 and have been married for 4 years...you can't have kids until after I do. [Kids? Why am I talking about kids? You've got a whole lot of living to do before it's time to start thinking about kids.]

Trust me when I say that the best is yet to come. I don't want you to nor would I ever expect you to live your life in a way that is patterned after mine. I want you to continue to be the same unique and loving and funny and smart and witty boy that you have always been. Because that boy is becoming a man with each passing day. It's not a transition that happens overnight. It's not a transition that can be forced. And even years from now when you are an old man with a full moustache (ha!) and even hair growing out of your ears, nose, and out from around the back of your shirt collar (ewww), I will continue to be your big sister who will always be standing in your corner fighting your battles alongside you [not for you] and celebrating your victories with you.

I love you forever and ever with that whole part of my heart that is devoted just to you,

Heather

PS - Make good choices.

It looks like we made it.

2011-05-23T09:00:00.008-04:00

I originally wrote this on Saturday so it's like reading last week's newspaper. Except there is really nothing newsworthy included in this post.

I’ve heard rumblings that the world is supposed to end today. I’m not even going to waste my time engaging in debate regarding this claim because for me, it’s a win-win situation. It happens: Welcome to Heaven! It doesn’t: I carry on with my weekend plans which include finally seeing Bridesmaids.

Regardless, by the time this post hits the blogosphere the present threat of rapture will be a distant memory. Why, you ask? Because I’m typing this post the old-fashioned way. Well, old-fashioned in a Microsoft Office 2007 sort of way as opposed to directly in Blogger. It just so happens that my computer has some sort of internet virus. And if I’ve learned anything over the past few days, I’ve learned that computer viruses don’t just “run their course” like people viruses do. Instead of confronting the issue head-on by contacting my local geek squad, I’ve taken the Scarlett O’hara approach and have decided to worry about it another day. [And if the world does end then I will be glad that I didn’t waste what little time I had left here devoted to repairing Coco the Dell.] So all of that to say, I’ll transfer this post from a flash drive to my blog at some point before Jesus returns.

I don’t really have anything of substance to write about today, but since I haven’t written in awhile I thought I would do a sort of housekeeping post as a means of updating everyone on my so-called life. And by everyone I mean the three readers who regularly stop by this little blog o’mine. Without further adieu…
1. I’m happy to report that I’m no longer down with the sickness. After an additional round of antibiotics and a cocktail of steroids and Mucinex with Sudafed, I can finally hear my television when the volume is set at a reasonable level. A word about steroids and Mucinex with Sudafed: The combo made me fighting mad. Except it also killed my appetite so I had no energy to actually fight anyone.
2. Unfortunately the loss of appetite was only a temporary side effect so I have been celebrating its return quite frequently with my latest and greatest grocery store discovery: Yoplait Smoothie pouches. You can find them in the freezer section and they are a delicious combo of smoothie goodness that you simply throw into your blender along with a cup of skim milk. My favorite so far is blackberry pomegranate. Speaking of Yoplait…
3. I like yogurt now. If there was ever a sign of the apocalypse my new found love of yogurt is certainly it. Especially considering my aversion to any and all foods of a certain color and texture.
4. I might or might not have contributed to the perpetuation of Southern stereotypes earlier this week. How so, you wonder? I “fixed” my car with duct tape. Jeff Foxworthy would be so proud. You know that Scarlett O’hara mentality I mentioned earlier? Yep, it’s in full effect here too.
5. Also earlier this week, I went to a Neko Case show with my friend Kat at 40 Watt. You three know that I take pride in what I consider to be my rather broad knowledge base when it comes to music. Until Wednesday though I was completely ignorant to all things Neko. In fact, I went to the show never having heard a single one of her songs. I have totally been missing out! She was fantastic. An added bonus of the evening was the opportunity to observe Athens culture at its finest. I really do love this town. An unanticipated part of the evening was getting hit on by an uber creepy high school guidance counselor. It’s an occupational hazard I suppose. Fortunately, it wasn’t too long until he spotted one of his former students and moved on to her. I wish that I was kidding about that but I’m not.
6. I’m really sad to see some of my friends leave for the summer. And by friends, I’m referring to characters on television shows. Perhaps I should devote a whole post to this like I did at the beginning of the new season. Spoiler alert: my favorite show this season has without a doubt been Parks & Recreation. I never saw it coming, but it li-tri-ly makes me laugh until I cry each week.
7. I just remembered my biggest reason for hoping that the rapture doesn’t happen in 29 minutes as predicted: Justin Timberlake is hosting the season finale of SNL. Oh how I love Justin Timberlake. And I know that he’s going to love me one day too. Just as soon as Kristen Wiig introduces me to him because it’s inevitable that she and I will be great friends one day as well. She can be a bridesmaid in our wedding.
8. I should be spending less time rambling on about nonsensical matters and more time updating my resume. Um…not because I’m actively looking for a new job right now but in the event that opportunity knocks, I need to be ready to answer. Besides, I’ve got a fancy diploma all rolled up in a cardboard tube as evidence that I’m smarter and more qualified for certain jobs than I was this time last year. I might as well make the most of that free education.
9. Speaking of education, I never thought that I would say it this soon after graduation, but I kind of miss school. No one tell my boss this because he would be able to say "I told you so" even louder than he already does. I don’t miss is badly enough to go back. Yet. In the event that I do go back, perhaps I should take basic grammar courses in an attempt to nip my habit of beginning fragmented sentences with conjunctions and ending them with prepositions in the bud.
10. I need a vacation.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Mothers: The original Leatherman tool.

2011-05-08T00:15:00.003-04:00

Sure, the title of today's post isn't syrupy sweet and sappy as one might expect for a Mother's Day tribute, but is motherhood a continuous flow of syrupy sweet and sappy moments? I can't speak from personal experience but after years of observation and knowing first hand that I am not a child who was a provider of non-stop syrupy sweet and sappy moments for my own mother, I think it's safe to say that it is not. When you think about it though, moms really are very much like Leatherman tools. I mean...they can do practically everything, they are used and abused, and they can withstand insane amounts of pressure. Am I wrong? Have you ever heard anyone who owns a Leatherman tool say "man, this was the worst investment I've ever made, it's completely useless." I am quite thankful and consider myself oh-so-fortunate that not once have I ever thought of my sweet mama as completely useless.
The older I get, the more I appreciate her. [I've heard this is pretty typical.] She is my constant cheerleader. She is a voice of reason. She is a true example of strength and grace in the midst of turmoil. I wonder why I did not inherit her trait of being laid back and go with the flow, but I sure am glad that she has it since I do not. She pours out so much love into the lives of her kiddos without the expectation that she is going to get something in return. More often than not, she doesn't even get a thank you. She has gone without so that we could have the latest and greatest big thing that happened to be at the top of our wish lists countless times.
It's no secret that I have always been a mama's girl and as a result, we have a close relationship. Yet very seldom do I take the time to stop and tell her thank you for being such a good mom to me throughout the years. It's something that I have always taken for granted and as with most things, we never miss the things that we've always had until they are no longer there or until we see that not everyone else is afforded the same blessings. Perhaps the best compliment that I can one day give her will be to look to her example when I am fortunate enough to be a mom myself. I hope that the laid back and go with the flow trait kicks in by then!

"All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my mother." - Abraham Lincoln

My body: A vacation destination for germs.

2011-05-01T12:29:00.006-04:00

Very rarely do I get sick. Like we're talking once every three years or so. I'm quite thankful for my good health, and while it would be cool if I could chalk it up to always eating only the best food, getting a full eight hours of sleep each night, and regular exercise, the truth is I think that good genetics is a greater contributing factor than my regular diet of cereal and knowledge of who is on Leno and Letterman each night. When I do get sick though, the germs that invade my typically healthy self make the most of their stay. Quite frankly, they wear out their welcome.

I should have known it was inevitable. Last week I went home to visit my family and upon my arrival, I was greeted with the information that both brothers were sick. Ethan was on his third round of antibiotics, and Micah was just beginning to show the symptoms. But boys are germy right? So I could practice good hand washing and not get too close to them and be a-ok. I might have mentioned seven [or seventy times seven] times that I. Could. Not. Get. Sick. Micah even went so far as to accuse me of being a germophobe. Obviously I wasn't phobic enough.

On Easter Sunday, in addition to new charms for my charm bracelet and Reese's Pieces eggs (my favorite!), I also got a fever. And that's the gift that really keeps on giving. By Monday, my ears felt as if I had spent too much time practicing my swan dive at the pool. On Tuesday, the cough was beginning to get a little more persistent [read: annoying]. When I woke up on Wednesday, I thought that the only positive that could result from the looming storm system moving through was that surely the change in barometric pressure would cause my right ear to finally pop.

On a completely unrelated but quite serious side note: Please take a moment to remember and pray for all of the folks in the South who experienced far greater and serious loss than a temporary loss of three out of five senses on Wednesday.

By Wednesday night my voice was completely gone. Thursday morning, I finally did what most people would have done on oh Monday: I went to the doctor. I suspect that the Hippocratic Oath doesn't include doing no harm to one's self-esteem because upon examination of my ears, the doctor informed me that they "looked disgusting". Then he asked me if I could even hear anything at all. To which I replied "What?" No, not really! I couldn't reply with anything all because well, remember...no voice. He prescribed me with some meds and I went on my merry way to work because I no longer had a fever, I felt fine and he told me that I wasn't contagious unless I was sharing drinks with someone. Anyone who knows me in the slightest knows there's zilcho chance of that happening. [I have no clue why Micah thinks I'm a germophobe.]

Friday morning I woke up at 3:40 a.m. [just in time for the Royal Wedding coverage to begin!] No, I didn't plan on waking up at this time, it just happened. However, much to my dismay, I discovered that my eyes would not open without the assistance of a warm washcloth. Yep, you guessed it: Pink Eye. Really?!? Is this what Charlie Sheen means by winning? With the help of my new friend, hydrocodone cough syrup, I fell back to sleep until a more suitable hour, text messaged work that I would not be coming in on Friday, and did what any other girl in my condition would do: settle in for the SIX HOURS of Royal Wedding coverage that I had DVR'd.

In hindsight, the timing of my illness was quite impeccable because when else would I have been able to watch the entire event without feeling a little twinge of guilt that I could be using my time in a much more productive manner? There really is a silver lining to every cloud, now isn't there? I have also been saving tremendously on eye makeup this week, might I add. Now that it's Sunday, my dog has finally resigned to the fact that I may never speak to him again in any tone above a whisper (he was thoroughly confused at first), I'm still waiting for my right ear to open up, and I'm kind of used to the blurred peripheral vision that comes with wearing glasses instead of contacts.

I don't write this for pity or as a woe-is-me lament because truthfully, I prefer one big under the weather event every few years as opposed to a bunch of little ones with each new season. However, I am super bummed because I had to miss a bunch of fun stuff that I had planned for this weekend. Maybe just maybe though, I needed this speed bump to slow me down just a little bit to make me remember the things that are most important. And no, I'm not talking about things like the nuptials of William and Catherine. I've been reminded not to take what I consider to be the little things for granted. For example: instead of going through the drive thru at Chick-fil-A yesterday, I had to go in because there was no way that I could have communicated my order otherwise. As with most things, we never really know what we have until it's gone. What 80's hair band sang that sentiment best? My memory fails me. I am fortunate that I have access to good medicine to restore my health and this is just a temporary bug. I am fortunate that neither myself nor my family members were in the direct path of the storms on Wednesday. Indeed, every day that I live, I am blessed.

Cousins.

2011-04-25T23:40:00.001-04:00

I love my family. I really do. And one of the things that I love about it the most is my cousins. Until my only child world was rocked at the age of 14, my cousins were the closest things to siblings that I had. I thought that Kyle, Wendi, and Kasey absolutely hung the moon. They were older and cooler and oh, so much fun. I mean, does it get any more fun than getting body slammed by two boys that are 9 and 6 years one's senior in a game of "run really fast and see if you can break through our arms"? Or, dressing up in matching green corduroy overalls and cream colored turtleneck shirts for studio portraits with your one and only girl cousin? I highly doubt it even though a thirteen year-old Wendi would probably beg to differ. And then the fun only continued once Justin was born and I got to be the big cousin. Well, once I got over the fact that I was no longer the baby in the family, I decided that he was pretty fun because he was my very own real live baby doll that didn't wake me up in the middle of the night crying because he did that at his own house. And with any luck there was the fact that maybe he would think that I was as cool as I thought the older cousins were. Except I was way cooler because I didn't body slam him. And now all of these years later, we're all grown up and do our own things on a daily basis. We may not necessarily talk to each other all of the time and know exactly what's going on in each others lives at any given moment, but it's a given that we are there for each other. We celebrate each other's victories or just stand alongside each other silently during the not-so-victorious times. And unless the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars, there's the certainty that we'll see each other on holidays. In my family, that makes holidays something to look forward to instead of dread. Really. I don't tell them enough how much I love them and respect them and look up to them, but I sure am glad that I have them. Each and every one of them. And even though we are all quite fluent in sarcasm, I'm being serious when I write this. Really. Because we are such a good looking [and humble] group and because I have zero patience with uploading pictures to Blogger, there are more pictures from Sunday's impromptu photo shoot here.

Soundtrack: Holy Week Edition.

2011-04-20T21:45:00.003-04:00

For some, this week is a reminder that there is a finite number of days left in which Cadbury eggs are available for purchase. For others, this week is a mad rush of stuffing plastic eggs and searching high and low for coordinating outfits for the entire family so the spring picture will be just perfect. Speaking of, have I ever written about that Easter that my mama bought me a dress with a hat? That went over like a lead balloon. Finally, for some, this week is perhaps a bit somber as they reflect upon God's sacrifice of his own son so that one day we could live forever and forever with him without even worrying about whether or not we will still be able to fit into our Easter frocks after polishing off that last Cadbury egg. I suspect that for most of us, this week is some combination of all three of the aforementioned scenarios. In honor of this most important week, I'm featuring music fit for a king.

Desert Song by Hillsong. "My God is the God who provides." This entire song is oh so good, but this particular line has been my mantra these days as I've been wandering through the desert.

Forever Reign by Hillsong. Ok, while I think that Hillsong was put on this earth to provide us with a small sneak preview of what music in Heaven is going to be like [actually I have no idea what the music in Heaven is going to be like...but I would be ok if it was like their music], I am continuously confused by the fact that sometimes they are referred to as Hillsong while other times they are Hillsong United [is that when they are playing soccer in the UK?] and sometimes it's Hillsong Live. I like this song because that it reminds me that even on my crankiest of days when there isn't a lot of good in me, God is still good.

Grace Flows Down by Christy Nockels. I hope that she sings this song on Friday at the Good Friday service. Bonus if she sings it with Chris Tomlin. Did I mention that I will be there in person to hear the performance with some of my very favorite people in all the world? Good Friday becomes even greater.

Waiting Here for You by Christy Nockels. Actually Chris Tomlin wrote this one and she sings it so my hopes are high that we'll hear this one too. Verse 3 [which incidentally it seems is always the verse omitted in hymns in the Baptist church] is my favorite: "You are everything you promised / Your faithfulness is true / And we're desperate for your presence / All we need is you."

How He Loves by John Mark McMillan. I like this version because the original lyrics of heaven meeting earth like a sloppy wet kiss haven't been watered down to be more churchy. I mean, is it really appropriate to talk about sloppy wet kisses in church? I think so. But I'm no music minister. If this song doesn't make you feel like you have been fought for as the greatest most cherished prize ever then well, please listen to it again. And again. Until the tears streaming down your face make you wonder if you've been given a sloppy wet kiss.

Something Beautiful by needtobreathe. We've all heard it. A lot. We all love it. A lot.

No More, No Less by MercyMe. Have y'all heard this song yet? I think it's pretty new. Must be because the powerpoint gurus haven't had time to upload a slideshow set to the song with the lyrics over lovely pictures of puppy dogs, rainbows, sugarplum fairies to YouTube yet. No more, no less...if only I could be content with that.

Beauty of the Cross by Jonny Diaz. You know, I will never be able to say with certainty because well, I wasn't there, but whenever I think about the Cross, I think it would have been a sight far too painful to witness. It would have been ugly and full of hurt and suffering. But God made something beautiful out of something horrible. And that wasn't the last time it happened. It happens every single day in our own messy lives.

You by Hillsong. I've said it before and I'll say it again: those Pentecostals from Australia make some good music. However, every single time this song is played at church at the very beginning I think the band is about to break out in some sort of RiverDance routine or something. But they never do. Probably because Pentecostals from Australia don't RiverDance. Neither do non-denominationals [read: basically Baptists if you live in the South] from the United States.

Alive Again by Matt Maher. Ok, I'll be honest, I don't really know this song very well. I heard it on the radio the other day and saw the title on the screen and thought to myself "well, Easter is about the resurrection and living and Jesus died but then rose on the 3rd day so it'll work to round out the list." Please don't criticize my lack of Bible story telling savvy...I never went to Sunday School as a kid. [Why in the world Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" comes up as the next song after this one is beyond me.]

I am so very thankful for the gift of the Cross. There's nothing I could have ever done to have earned it. Or deserved it. As with all gifts though, the best ones are never earned or deserved...they are given freely and the giver does so out of love without regard to his cost. The Cross represents the gift of eternal life. It's ours for the receiving.

That time I ate 3 Klondike bars right before going to bed.

2011-04-13T18:26:00.005-04:00

I feel like I should preface today's post. Primarily as a stall tactic to get to the inevitable explanation that yes, I really did eat 3 Klondike bars right before bed a couple of weeks ago. However, the preface should also include the explanation that I am using this entire post as a stall tactic for another post that I am going to write eventually. By talking about my skill of consuming copious amounts of calories in a short period of time, the next post that I write - the one that has the potential to make me appear vulnerable and less together than I typically like to appear to the outside world - won't seem quite as intimidating. So all of that to say, this is kind of like stepping into the shallow end of the pool as opposed to the cannonball method of entry right into the deep end. Warning: If you make it to the end of this post, you should treat yourself to a Klondike bar. It just so happens that I really do believe that there is something good in all bad situations. For example: last summer when my little world fell apart, I dropped weight like I was a high school wrestler the week before the state meet. Except I didn't wear trash bags and go running in poorly ventilated rooms. Suddenly in July I was two sizes smaller than I was in May. So now, nearly a year later while he who shall rename nameless has managed to maintain a double chin, I have managed to maintain my new and improved body that looks much better at 32 than it did at 22. [Yes, even the small, shallow wins should be celebrated on the road to total victory.] But. And this is where the but has potential to get really big...I've got to be careful if I plan to stay in those size 2's for a couple of seasons. The trauma and drama has passed. My appetite has long since returned. I'm finished with grad school which was another stressor and instant calorie burner. This means that I can't eat whatever I want to whenever I want to without zero regard to what it's going to do to my body. Pause: I realize that there's so much more to being healthy than pant size and the way one looks. Back in the summer though I literally had to force myself to eat so any calories were good calories. Now though that I am back to three meals a day and snacks in between, there's not really room for THREE KLONDIKE BARS right before bed. What in the world ever possessed me to eat 3 right in a row in the first place anyway? Because they were so good, that's why. And they were a treat. Darn Publix and those BOGO specials. Look at me making excuses..."I don't typically have those in my house."..."I'm just celebrating the fact that I have an appetite."..."If Publix didn't have those specials, I would have never bought them in the first place." Sure, in the overall grand scheme of things, eating that much ice cream in one sitting isn't that big of a deal. But what would you think if I told you that the night before, I ate TWO Klondike bars right before bedtime? Because I did. Anybody see a pattern forming? Am I the only person out there that takes on the mentality of "well, I've already eaten one which means my eating is shot for the day, so I might as well eat another."? Or what about, "I know that I said that I was going to put up those dishes after this episode of The Closer goes off, but there's a marathon on TV and this next episode is really good too."? Or the classic battle that I fight each morning of "I can snooze for 9 more minutes and still make it in time." [I never make it in time.] Those examples are all pretty trivial but what about when a drink leads to another drink which leads to another drink? Or when one swipe of the credit card at this store leads to another swipe of the credit card at that store because you can't have a new dress without the new shoes to go with it? Or when you were just going to smoke those last two packs in your last carton of cigarettes and be done with them forever...three cartons ago? Or when an innocent lunch with a coworker leads to an intentional dinner date. We are creatures of habit. And why is it that the good habits are so easy to let go of and the bad habits are so hard to break? Oh? That's just me? Well, then you all go on about your business of enjoying a Klondike bar. You've earned it. Oh...because sometimes we do earn the right to loosen up a bit don't we? Or least that's what we tell ourselves. Or at least we are much quicker to hear and act on that when maybe others tell us so. Anyone else have dolphin hearing when the opportunity to loosen up and reward ourselves presents itself, but it's like the batteries are dead in Grandpa's Whisper 2000 when someone calls us out on a behavior? Again, my apologies if I'm just talking to myself here. While I'm on the subject of habits, I'm much better at planning to break them than actually breaking them. The time to decide not to hit the snooze button again is not at 6:22 a.m. The time to decide to stop eating Klondike bars like they are rice cakes is when you walk past the ice cream aisle at the grocery store...not when they are in your freezer beckoning you like a lighthouse beckons a ship lost at sea in the storm when you reach into the freezer to get the broccoli that's in there. If I've learned anything in my 30's, it's that I cannot do this life alone. No matter how hard I try or how much I love to give the impression that I've got it all together, the reason why I'm together as I am, is because of the people in my life. It's much simpler, I've learned. This doesn't mean I've given up my independence. It just means that I don't have to be Wonder Woman all the time. Sure, no one knows our own individual struggles better than we do. On the other hand, no one is better at justifying them than we are. Of course we don't want to share our struggles with the people who love and respect us, because well, they might not love and respect us anymore if they find out. But here's the deal: those are the people that are going to love us through those things. So we've got to let them. Why? Not because I said so. But because there's a book that says it: "See to it, brothers, that none of you has a sinful, unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God. But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called 'Today,' so that none of you may be hardened by sin's deceitfulness." -Hebrews 3:12-13. When I read this passage for my Bible Study and specifically the phrase "sinful unbelieving heart" the other day, I was taken aback. The reason why was because that was pretty much the phrase used in an explanation of one's actions and behaviors towards me one time. I think it's easy for us all to get a little hard-hearted at times. I know I have. But I'm grateful that God's grace is stronger and will break even the hardest of hearts. He's not going to use his grace with force though. Don't worry.

Soundtrack: I wish there was a 3rd Avett brother Edition.

2011-03-30T18:13:00.006-04:00

I should apologize in advance for any glaring grammatical faux pas that will more than likely appear in this post. Because y'all, I'm exhausted. There are two primary contributors to said exhaustion. The first being the fact that my dog consumed 6 pounds of dog food while I was in the shower yesterday afternoon. Do you people know what happens when a dog consumes a week's worth of food in 20 minutes? Bad things. Very. Bad. Things. And those very bad things will not only keep the dog up until 4 in the morning, but the dog's person as well. But I'm not here to lament upon my unplanned trip to the vet and investment in the upholstery cleaner industry. My exhaustion is partially attributed to The Avett Brothers show that went well past my bedtime last night. I had the good fortune of being pal Erin's "plus 1" because her hubby was all mus-zak'd out from SXSW. [Thanks again, Erin & Bill!] Added bonus that the show was here in town! I'm going to end up loving this place yet, y'all. I've always liked The Avett Brothers once those two songs of theirs that they always play on the radio became a part of the regular rotation. I began to love them a little when I saw them perform on the Grammy's in the Mumford & Sons/The Avett Brothers/Bob Dylan trifecta that I call musical perfection. After last night's show, it's safe to say that I love them a lot. I even said "HP Avett" a few times in my mind until I realized that they were both married. I'm no music critic and I don't "know music" in the sense that musicians know music, but they were phenomenal. They had crazy energy. Since I can't properly describe it, I would encourage you to check them out for yourselves at one of their upcoming shows. You can check here to see when they are coming to a city near you. To prepare for the show, you can go here to listen to all kinds of their music. Legally! But because we all know that I play favorites, I will not sign off without sharing a [very] few of my favorites along with why they are my favorites.

Living of Love - "Your heart says not again / what kind of mess have you got me in / But when the feelings there / it can take you anywhere" Yes, yes it can. And by "it", I mean love. And I think they do too.

Kick Drum Heart - Ok, don't laugh [or laugh if you want] but there's something about this song that reminds me of The Who's "You Better You Bet". Go ahead and admit that you can hear it too.

Distraction #74 - Just another example of what happens when you "kinda love two girls".

Sanguine - I just especially love his voice in this one. And the lyrics. Don't forget the lyrics!

Spanish Pipedream - This is a John Prine song that they covered. Listen to it (when you search for it using your favorite search engine of choice) without tapping your toes. I dare you. I'd say that you have a better chance of finding Jesus on your own.

Dumbed down and numb by lack of sleep...

The Space Between.

2011-03-27T13:45:00.000-04:00

Unless one has given up all forms of media for Lent or has spent the last week in a secluded over the water bungalow in Tahiti, you probably know that the face in the picture above belongs to a man named Jamie Hood. Those of us who call The Classic City home are perhaps a little more familiar with his face because it has been plastered on a few billboards around town. If my fellow citizens are anything like me, they were probably on a bit of high alert each and every time they walked out the door to take their dog on a walk near a wooded area that happened to be only a few miles from the crime scene until around Thursday when the authorities narrowed down his whereabouts to a more specific location east and then north of town. [You can take the girl out of Hickory Flat, but you can't take Hickory Flat out of the girl.] The crime that this man committed is heinous. And inexcusable. And senseless. And all of those other one-dimensional words that we use in an attempt to describe a three-dimensional tragedy that will forever impact a number of people far too great to count. But since this picture began to circulate late Tuesday afternoon, the face that I see every single time I look at this picture is an entirely different one. A couple of weeks ago, I visited a local high school in order to speak with a Teen Parent Group about all of the wonders and benefits of higher education that were available to them. Let's be honest: I was probably just as prepared to be the keynote speaker at a robotics convention. Silly me for not anticipating ahead of time the possibility that some of these teen parents may actually have their children with them. I guess there is no other option when the nanny calls in sick at the last minute. I don't incorporate [sardonic] wit and humor to make light of the situation at all. In fact, I probably do it as more of a defense because the whole situation was absolutely heart breaking. You see, in the 10 years that I have been giving presentations to groups of high school students about going to college, not once have I ever presented while holding a baby on my hip. Until that day. And since that day I have not been able to get that precious baby boy out of my mind. He is probably about 18 months old. And like most any other kiddo in that stage of life, he was so busy and full of wonder and happy and easily entertained by something as simple as looking at a Spiderman folder. At least until something shinier caught his eye, anyway. He was the kind of baby that makes you wonder if you could fit him in your purse and carry him home with you. Because the reality is, his reality probably won't be filled with wonder and happiness for all that much longer in comparison to those 18 month olds out in the world living an "ideal" life. His reality is that he has a greater chance of going to jail than he does of going to college one day. So the week's constant news coverage of the loss of a police officer, shooting of another, and search for the shooter has led me to think a lot about the space between. What happens in a person's life between sheer childhood innocence when the natural response is to love all that is in the world and the point of committing murder? How does a person get to the point that he or she feels that the bad choices or obviously very wrong choices are only the ones that they have? How can a person become so hardened that even if he knows that the choice he makes is the wrong one, it doesn't stop him from making it? At what point is it ever okay for one to not have to be responsible for his poor decisions? [Hint: Never.] All of these questions absolutely make me stop and give thanks for grace and love and good people and their positive influence that have been so commonplace in my life. But a little lesson that I've been learning over the past two years or so is that just being thankful isn't my only responsibility. It's really not enough for me to just pause for a few minutes and say "whew, I'm glad that I never have to worry about getting to the point in my life to where I make such stupid decisions" and go about my day of looking at someone's 2009 vacation pictures on Facebook and checking the 5 day forecast to determine if it's going to be worth my time to straighten my hair before rain moves in and ruins the fruits of my labor. On the flip side though, I don't exactly know what is enough either. But I hope that I never become so apathetic by the dismal news that faces us in the headlines each day or absorbed in my own worries that I stop trying to figure it out. As I'm sitting here typing all of this, I notice the time in the bottom right hand corner of the screen. The funeral service for Officer Elmer "Buddy" Christian will begin in about 15 minutes. He is being buried in the cemetery near where I live. All afternoon I have heard the practice shots (???) that I assume are the prelude to the gun salute that will given in his honor during the graveside portion of his service. My heart is very sad for his family. Even though I know nothing about them, I do know a little about losing a family member. And since last Tuesday, his wife and his children have closed one space and entered into a completely new one. It's the space between life when their family was still intact on this earth and the time when it is not. It's probably pretty dark. Of course their grief will be great, but my prayer is that their hope will be greater.

Shamrocks, Leprechauns, & the Fighting Irish.

2011-03-17T07:31:00.002-04:00

This subject line [or entire blog post] really has nothing to do with much of anything at all unless of course you count the fact that today is St. Patrick's Day. Or March 17th if you're [insert all other nationalities besides Irish here]. When it comes to country of origin, I think I'm pretty much a mutt. Surely though I've got some Irish in me from somewhere down the line if I look to the pigmentation of my skin as a clue.

There are three reasons why I like this particular day, and none of them have anything to do with the road rising to meet me or the sun shining on my back or whatever.

Reason #1: Cake.I might have mentioned once or eleventy dozen times how much I love the mint chocolate grasshopper cake from The Grit. Well, I made it last night. I won't share the recipe online because then before you know it I'll be like that lady who got mad at Neiman Marcus for charging her 43 million dollars for a cookie recipe so she made it her lot in life to share it with the whole free world. Or at least those of us fortunate enough to have an email address and internet access. You can find the recipe here though. Or if you're like me and fortunate enough to have a friend who will loan you her copy of the cookbook to score the recipe. Speaking of score...

Reason #2: Brackets close at 12:00 noon today, folks!

Have you made your picks? I'm slightly upset that Notre Dame isn't actually playing today because it seems only fitting that St. Patrick be honored in such a way. Or maybe this way all the players can honor him by drinking green beer [errr...gatorade] tonight in preparation for tomorrow's match-up against Akron.

Reason #3: This is just silly and it makes me laugh.

Tripp & Tyler Wishing You a Happy St. Patrick's Day from Andy Waddell on Vimeo.

"After all, tomorrow is another day."

2011-03-15T22:38:00.007-04:00

Every once in awhile I like to throw around Scarlett O'Hara phrases even though this fictional Southern belle and I are nothing alike. Unless you consider the shared blessing that we are natives of Georgia and the shared curse that we both have been known to swoon over "the Perfect Knight". And look how well that worked out for both of us. But I'm not here to discuss the [two] parallels between my life and the leading lady in American literature who was portrayed on the big screen by an English actress. Better than a Yankee, I suppose. Oh, I kid!

Just this past Sunday night, I was having a conversation with pals over a delicious and heavenly dinner at The Grit. In this conversation, I might have mentioned that I was going to work harder at loving the people who are the most unlovable because they are the ones who need love the most. How noble, HP.

Fast forward not even 48 hours later to this morning at work. I might have been in a rant to one of those same pals regarding some very unlovable people. Contrary to the belief of some folks, I've got far more important things to do than sit around dreaming up barriers and implementing policy to keep people from going to college. Why would I do that when I would rather be calculating the averages of the winning scores and losing scores in the NCAA championship for the last 10 years to come up with my scores for this year's bracket?

Over email today, another pal and I were discussing options for weekend fun. When she asked what I wanted to do my response was: "Drink. Heavily. Or bust knee caps."

Who is the unlovable one now? Just me...HP.

Later today I decided that I should check myself before I wrecked myself so I listened to a randomly selected online message. Here was the scriptual basis for said randomly selected message: "Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like." -James 1:22-24

When I get really honest with myself, I know that nowhere in the B-i-b-l-e are we told to drink heavily and bust knee caps. Even though when I get even more honest with myself, I sometimes think it would be really cool if it did. [...Until my knee caps or the knee caps belonging to one of my people were the ones getting busted.]

Because I needed the reminder in a bad way today and will potentially need it again before my morning coffee buzz wears off tomorrow, I'll share what we are told to do: "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you." - Ephesians 4:32

The truth is that not every day can be a 10. We are living in a state of delusion if we think that each morning Chesley is going to max out the wizometer by giving the day an 11 before we even wash the sleep out of our eyes. But "[b]ecause of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning..." -Lamentations 2:22-23.

This is great news for a girl like me who knows that while I can't erase today's attitude, when I put myself to bed in about 5 minutes, the attitude will be put to rest too. And because we are loved so much by a God that hands out grace as freely as I handed out eyerolls today, I get the chance to try again and do better tomorrow.

That time Emily Blunt gave me a dirty look.

2011-03-14T16:51:00.003-04:00

Have I ever written about one of the times I was in Vegas last year, and we were at the Beatles Cirque show "Love" and sat in front of John Krasinski and Emily Blunt? No? Sorry, I guess that I'm so used to rubbing elbows with the Hollywood crowd that I forgot to mention it. Anyways, long story short, we sat in front of John Krasinski and Emily Blunt at the Beatles Cirque show "Love" and upon my party's discovery and recognition of them at the end of the show, the future Mrs. Jim Halpert was none too pleased with us. Personally I think she was just jealous that her man friend was more popular among my group than she was. Besides, it was around the same time that Pam was out on maternity leave at Dunder Mifflin, and Emily knew the consequences of being caught in public with a man who belonged to another woman. Oh look at me mixing up television and reality.

Anyhoodle, I write all of that as a segue [I love using that word.] to talk about Emily Blunt and Matt Damon's movie, The Adjustment Bureau. Suz and I went to see it the weekend that it opened. Y'all, I love it and I can't stop thinking about it. [That sounds like my life is more boring then it really is, but you know what I mean. Hopefully.] I will not go too in depth here because if you haven't seen it yet, farbeit for me to be the spoiler. Just go see it. I've got a Living Social movie voucher so if you play your cards right and ask nicely, I may take you because I want to see it again. And we all know my hang ups about going to the movies alone. People would probably think that I snuck my cat into the theater with me in my purse or something.

Here are a few vague reasons why I love it:
1. Matt Damon. [Honestly I could just stop there because he's reason enough.]
2. Prior to the movie, Emily Blunt had no formal training in ballet and she played her part as a dancer quite gracefully. Plus, she didn't frown at me this time.
3. I have spent the last year or so of my life pondering things like free will and fate and who is really in charge at the end of the day. [Even though I'm highly confident of who is in charge despite my affinity for sometimes trying to control things beyond my control.] While this is just a movie that was created by mere mortals with the purpose of entertainment for others, it challenges me to think about how free will and fate intersect with each other and how my choices not only effect me but folks around me as well. Nothing like the responsibility of messing with the lives of other people as added pressure to make good choices.
4. Matt Damon. [Oh I said that already, didn't I?]

Seriously, stop reading this and get to the movies!

Soundtrack: Running Edition.

2011-03-09T12:30:00.002-05:00

I should begin by explaining that this week's musical montage does not necessarily feature songs to load up on your iPod for actual running. It seems that I've given running up in exchange for watching television. But now that I'm another year older, I have decided that I should reconsider my decision. Especially if I want to keep eating things like Vegan Grasshopper Cake from The Grit as I continue to march toward my golden years.

Today I'm going to focus on a type of running that I am really good at. As in, marathon quality runner. It's running from God. Whoa, this post suddenly got a little heavy. Stick with me. A couple of weeks ago at church we finished up a series on Jonah. By "we", I mean that I listened while Andy Stanley taught. For those of you who have forgotten the felt board version of Jonah's story from VBS, he ran so far from what God told him to do that he ended up in the belly of a whale. [Gross.] But there's more to the story that goes far beyond the felt board version. Andy's explanation is much clearer, funnier, and thorough than I could ever clearly relay so if you find yourself in the situation at work and your office network is down and Internet Explorer is working like a champ, check it out here. The series is called "White Flag". And it's awesome. If you don't time to listen though, after I share my "running" songs, I'll conclude this post with the theme and moral of the book of Jonah, in addition to my favorite quote of Andy's from the entire series. But first, please enjoy the music while your party is being reached...

Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen. Ok, so maybe this would be a good song to have playing in the background as you take to the open roads on a cool, crisp morning as you knock out a quick 5 miles. It just so happens that's about what I do each morning...on my drive in to work.

Run by Collective Soul. Remember Collective Soul? Have I got a long way to run? Goodness, I hope not.

Running to Stand Still by U2. I try not to repeat songs in this little soundtrack segment that I do, but I love it. By far my favorite U2 song. And sometimes when we do run, aren't we running so we can get to the place where we can stop? How often when we run, do we know that we're running from something without a single clue as to what we're actually running to?

Run, Baby, Run by Sheryl Crow. Y'all. Sheryl Crow is 49. I hope I look as good as she does when I reach that age [20 years from now - ha!]. Do you think if I resume running that I have a better chance? What? Eating more cake is actually the secret of aging gracefully? Speaking of cake...

The Distance by Cake. Let's all hop in the Delorian and do a little time traveling back into the 1990's for this one folks! Have you all heard their new song though? It's called "Sick of You". Oh how I love Cake. ...of multiple varieties.

Run by George Strait. What's not to love about this song? Nothing. That's what.

Runaway by Bon Jovi. We're all little runaways when it comes right down to it. Now, if I knew that JBJ was waiting for me at the end of my run, I might be encouraged to run a little more quickly. Just sayin'.

Glory Defined by Building 429. You know the good thing for us is that no matter how far or how fast we run from God, we will never outrun him. And maybe while we're running, he's not going to chase us but simply wait for us to come back. Because when the chaos that results from our running gets to be too much or those things that we thought were worth the running prove otherwise, inevitably we will run back to God because deep down in our gut, we know that he's what we need. [I know that was longest sentence ever.] You know, like cake is what we want but vegetables are what we need. And we can only eat so much cake before our teeth begin to hurt. I digress.

So, back to the aforementioned theme, moral, and quote...

The theme of Jonah is found in Jonah 4:2 - "He [Jonah] prayed to the LORD, ...'I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity'."

The moral of Jonah is found in Jonah 4:9-11 - Ok, so I hyperlinked the actual scripture but Andy boiled it down to this: Jonah was a good man but he was concerned with all the wrong stuff. [Yikes...I feel like my name could quite easily replace Jonah's.]

The biggest takeaway for me:

"God is generous with his grace and thorough in his discipline." - Andy Stanley [See Jonah 2.]

A place in my story.

2011-02-23T21:20:00.003-05:00

Do you all remember back in January when I was waxing philosophic about resolving to be resolute as my New Year's resolution? Well, at that time I neglected to share with you three readers another resolution that I had made. I know, I know...what is a virtual relationship here in the blogosphere without full disclosure of every detail of my life, right? My apologies. I left out my resolution to join a small group at church intentionally because at the time, the meeting to join said small group hadn't happened yet and I was doubtful as to whether or not I would actually follow through and go. Why? Because I know myself and know that I tend to get painfully shy in new situations that involves me knowing nary a soul, therefore it's easier to just avoid all new situations, that's why. Instead of announcing my intentions here, I asked a small group of trusted friends to keep me accountable. I love those people.

So. All of that to say this: I've recently joined a community group through church. As a means of getting to know each other, we each spend about 15-20 minutes telling our story. There's no right or wrong way to tell one's story, but I went with the book's suggestion when putting my story together. I do love a good set of clear instructions which probably explains why I would be tickled pink if God spoke directly to us in a loud audible voice from Heaven. I suspect he would sound like Morgan Freeman if he did communicate that way. Or I guess it would be that Morgan Freeman sounds like him...oh never mind. I digress. The recommended format is that we shape our story around 3 key people, 3 key events, and 3 key places. For the sake of your sanity, I'm only going to feature one place in this post.

The place I'm writing about today is Muir Woods. I've talked about it before, but in case you need a refresher, it's a national park just north of San Francisco. It happens to be one of my favorite places in the world. I've been fortunate to visit there twice.

Once in 2006...

Once in 2009...

I wish the picture of me in 2009 was a full body shot because one could see that I'm wearing the same shoes that I was wearing when I was there in 2006. Obviously my ability to select shoes that can withstand the test of time is much better than my ability to select travel companions that can withstand the test of time. Oh, my hilarity cracks me up.

The first time I traveled to Muir Woods, I loved it because it was a place that I had never visited. There's just something exhilarating about exploring unknown territory. The entire day was just one of those fun and carefree days. Good conversation, good times, good memories. I found myself wondering at the end of the day if things could possibly be any better than they were at that one particular moment in time.

The second time I traveled to Muir Woods, I was in the early stages of love. If you've been fortunate enough to be in that fun and giddy stage of life, you know that the sky is always bluer, the birds' songs are always more melodious, and apples are a little crispier and sweeter. [And the phrases used to create imagery are a little lamer.] Needless to say, that visit to Muir Woods was almost more than I could handle because I was in a place that I loved with a person that I loved. I knew life could not be any better than it was at that particular moment in time.

I believe that God creates places in this world like Muir Woods for multiple reasons. His creation is beautiful, and he wants us (who are part of his whole creation) to enjoy it to the fullest while we are here. For me, Muir Woods is a sanctuary of sorts. We all have places like this. If you don't, please put it on your list to find one. The trees are so incredibly tall that it's almost as if while you're in the woods, they are serving as a shield from everything else happening in the world. There's a stream that runs through the woods, and while it's one of the most peaceful, quiet, and calm places I've ever visited, the water adds just enough background noise to remind visitors that they are standing in place that's full of life. But I also believe that God takes great delight in wowing and wooing us. Muir Woods is merely a taste of what else he has done and is going to do. It's almost as if he's saying to us "If you think that's something, just wait until you see what's coming. Just wait."

Until July 2006, I had no idea that Muir Woods even existed. Had someone told me when I was there the first time that in three years I would be back there and then described what my life was going to look like at that particular place in time, I would have never believed that someone. The reason why is because I was at a good place in my life in all areas so the thought that it could be better would have been unfathomable. But...sure enough, when I was there three years later, I was in an even better place in my life. I'm sure one of the reasons why I love Muir Woods as much as I do is because not only is it a great place to visit, when I was there both times, I was at a great place in my life.

I don't write this to paint life as just one big never ending series of puppy dog, rainbow, and yellow baby chick moments. I write this because through Muir Woods I have learned and am beginning to understand more clearly that the God who put little old me here in this world is the same God who put those big old trees here. And while some of those trees are so big that it hurts your neck to look all the way to the top of them, God is bigger than those trees. And just when we think we've discovered and experienced all the greatness that this world has to offer, God brings us to a new place (both geographically and in life). It's a place we could not have gotten to without all of those other places in our past. At the end of the day, our current place is merely a link to our future.

I'm quite thankful that there's beautiful scenery and good company along the way. More than that though, I am thankful that as the scenery and company changes, the One who created it never will.

Soundtrack: Soundtrack's Back Edition.

2011-02-16T08:00:00.002-05:00

The only thing that I am consistent with these days is my inconsistency in everything. Even my feelings on some of the following songs are somewhat inconsistent. Bless my heart.

She is Love by Parachute. I heard this song on some tv show the other day (shocker!) and loved it. But now that I have given it another listen, I can't really remember why I loved it so much because now I'm not even sure that I like it. But don't let that stop you from loving it.

Stones Over Rushing Water by NeedToBreathe. Oh my goodness, I love this song. Always. But for the life of me I cannot figure out why NeedToBreathe [why do bands/groups do weird spacing things with their names?] is touring with Taylor Swift.

50 Ways to Leave your Lover by Paul Simon. My last soundtrack edition's reference to Paul Simon put me on a bit of a Paul Simon kick. Interestingly enough, in all of the 50 ways, I've never once heard Paul advise Peter to become a cheater.

The Old Apartment by Barenaked Ladies. Ok, so when did the BNL revival begin? Or am I the only one who has heard this song no less than a trillion times in the last 3 weeks on the radio and on Pandora. I had to feature this one especially after last week's episode of Community when Jeff Winger got into an argument with the rest of the gang over the lameness of BNL. Wait, wasn't that on Community? Or was it How I Met Your Mother? Y'all. I'm a prime candidate for the next episode of Intervention. My invention? Something to reduce the amount of tv shows in my DVR line-up.

Notion by Kings of Leon. Don't knock Kings of Leon. Even if you get the notion to do so.

Stay or Leave by Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds. I hope these two never have to sing this song about their own relationship because I just love it when they make music together.

Love and Memories by O.A.R. I'm telling you people, the O.A.R. station on Pandora is spinning some good stuff these days. Who knew a bunch of guys from THE Ohio State University would ever be so good at what they do? Silly me, it's THE Ohio State University...of course they were always going to be revolutionary.

Neon by John Mayer. Was it just me or did Johnny boy look a little rougher than usual at The Grammy's? I've never understood the intrigue with him as a person, but I heard his version of this song that he played at Eddie's Attic the other day on the radio and I became slightly intrigued with him. Or perhaps just the song on the radio. When listening to his music on the radio one doesn't have to actually watch him sing. Which makes his music better. Yes, as a matter of fact, I am a licensed critic.

Grenade by Bruno Mars. "Tell the devil I said hey when you get back to where you're from." That line makes me giggle. Typically I change the station faster than one can say "lame song" when I hear this on the radio. I happened to hear this part when I was scanning the other day, and now I'm trying to incorporate it into my conversations at least once a day. Thus far I've been unsuccessful because I typically don't find myself in situations when I'm conversing with spawns of Satan. Well, not anymore, anyway.

And lastly, my favorite Grammy performance from Sunday night: Mumford & Sons + The Avett Brothers + Bob Dylan all introduced by David Letterman = my serious consideration to just become a groupie now that I've got an advanced degree.

That's all for this week. Maybe next week [or whenever I return] I'll compile a little theme-based soundtrack for the masses. Cover songs? Duets? Suggestions?

That time I yelled at God. And he whispered back.

2011-02-13T23:24:00.008-05:00

Earlier this evening, I had a strongly worded conversation with God. Allow me to set the stage...

I got back to Athens around 9:15, unloaded my car, and fished my keys out of my purse that Mary Poppins would have totally carried had she carried a red bag. Typically when I put the key into the deadbolt and turn it, the deadbolt clicks over and I proceed to open the door, and well if you know how to read, then you should know the next step so I won't insult your intelligence by explaining it. No such luck tonight. The lock will not budge. So instead of heading inside where dinner, exercise, and The Grammy's awaited, I loaded Cash back up into the car and headed to my least favorite place in this entire town: Wal-Mart. Darn you Target for closing at 9:00 on Sunday. Of course like always, adding new frustration to my already currently increased frustration level only made this new situation seem a little more overwhelming. On the short commute to retail hell, I might have asked God a few questions. I might have asked them with a raised tone of voice. I might have even been yelling a little bit. Or a lot.

Questions might have included: What do you want from me? Isn't enough, enough? Can't something just be simple for once? How much longer are you going to keep this up? What have I done to deserve this? What have I not done to deserve this?

Once inside Wal-Mart, the search for first, WD-40 and second, a Wal-Mart associate when I couldn't find WD-40 ensued. I was not very successful. So what did I do? Called my mom, of course. I might have gotten a little bit snippy and impatient with her when she couldn't tell me immediately where to find WD-40 at the Wal-Mart two hours away from her house. I finally found the WD-40, swung through sporting goods to buy Cash some tennis balls because he might have been on his best behavior ever in that short drive over in which I was interrogating God. I got back home, brought out the WD-40, sprayed the lock, inserted key, and turned. ...Obviously I didn't yell loudly or clearly enough.

Or maybe, just maybe, I was too busy yelling that I wasn't taking time to listen. Earlier today I went to church. It was a great message centered around this passage of scripture found in 2 Chronicles. Allow me to share: "if My people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land." 2 Chronicles 7:14.

Does a humble person yell? Is there a thesaurus in the universe that includes "demand" as a synonym for either pray or seek? Did I get locked out of my house at 9:00 on a Sunday night as punishment because I'm a wicked person? All of these questions share the same answer: No.

Will God forgive me of my ugly sinful yelling tirade? Yep, when I ask humbly.

Did God provide a solution to my problem? Obviously, because as much as I love my smartphone, I certainly don't have the patience to type this much on a touch screen keypad.

Was it the solution that I would have imagined or preferred even? Nope.

And why not? Because I couldn't do it myself. I had to depend on others to help me. I had to be an inconvenience. I had to ask for help. I had to wait longer than I preferred.

Do I enjoy asking for help? Not one little bit.

Does God know this? Yes.

Does he also know what I need even better than I do? Yes.

I think the picture of this broken key and the whole 2 hour ordeal of getting inside my house is a great illustration of life in general: We're all broken. [Even when there are no obvious cracks on the surface.] None of us are beyond repair. [Even when it looks like or feels like we are.] We can't fix ourselves by ourselves. [Even when we try with all of our might.]

Life Lately.

2011-02-08T12:22:00.010-05:00

Hello, my three readers. It's been awhile since I've blogged. My absence is not due to lack of excitement [I just love the subjectivity involved in the definition of this word.], but more so out of lack of time, energy, and words. At least once a day I think to myself "I should blog about that" but then it seems that I never get around to it. All of this writing in my head is very similar to the process that I used throughout my entire stint in graduate school. For example, I literally sat down on a Saturday night to begin the process of typing my entire applied project and I finished it around midnight on Sunday night. Typically this kind of stuff should be completed over the course of a semester. My independent study last spring? I did it all in one weekend. My portfolio that was a summation of my entire 3.5 year program? Oh, I spent about 4 days on that one. What can I say other than I'm gifted? [And extremely humble.] All of this to say that maybe one day I'll just sit down and crank out like 30 posts all at once. Please, don't hold your breath.

Today though I bring you just a brief update of life in my little world so call the kids, grab the popcorn, pop the top of a Coke Zero, sit back, and enjoy.

Let's talk household expenses first. [Sweet mercy, I'm an old and boring lady, but I like to think that excitement over these things is a sign of maturity.] Y'all, last year my electricity bill for mid-December to mid-January was over. the. top. expensive. I live in a one bedroom shoebox. I was away from that one bedroom shoebox almost half of the month, yet my bill averaged $4.81 per day. I called the company to find out if maybe they accidentally sent me the bill for the people who live in the 2 story, 3 bedroom home complete with hot tub and sauna in the neighborhood across the street. No such luck. I got the statement a couple of weeks ago for the same billing period this year. Cut! In! Half! The average was $2.40 per day. Yes, the reduction is totally worth a frostbitten nose and blue fingers and toes. To celebrate, I became a Vegan.

Well, only for like an hour for a couple of weekends. Ladies and gentlemen (uh, dudes out there...why are you reading this instead of checking scores or something on espn.com?), I present to you vegan Grasshopper cake from The Grit. This is the stuff that elastic waistband pants and dreams are made of. The Grit is probably my favorite eating establishment in all of Athens. If loving a restaurant with an all vegetarian menu is wrong, then I don't want to be right. Seriously, come to Athens. I'll take you to The Grit for lunch and then you can enjoy some of my extra hearty crockpot chili for dinner.

It's good for me to be a vegetarian in moderation. I know a crockpot is a thing and I shouldn't place a high level of value in things, but here's the truth: I like this thing better than some people. There are some people in the world who complicate one's life. Crockpots? They simplify one's life. Need I say more? And by people, I certainly am not referring to these two...

This shot is of Mu and baby Lola at our annual Ladies' Tea Party that our family does each January. I look forward to this event each year because not only is the company fantastic, it's the one time a year that I eat chicken salad and drink hot tea in addition to lamenting over the fact that the circumference of my head is so stinking big that there's only one hat in the entire tea room that fits me. If I were Jackie Kennedy, I would have had to have all of my pillbox hats specially tailored.

After our tea party that day, I arrived home to find this waiting for me in my mailbox...

It's official. I really did graduate! Even though I walked across the stage back in December, I've spent the weeks that followed with my fingers and toes crossed and my breath held in the event that something went awry and I didn't actually graduate. It wouldn't have been all that surprising considering my habits as a student that I mentioned at the beginning of this post. I only wish that the above picture came with audio because if you think I looked good, you should have heard how good I sounded that week. Well, good for an 87 year-old man who has been smoking since the age of 14 currently suffering from a case of pneumonia. I hate getting sick. Good thing that I don't very often.

In other news, I've decided that my new favorite Dorito is the taco flavored kind, my new favorite television shows are The Closer (because I've got mad detective skills like Brenda Lee Johnson) and Blue Bloods (because my childhood crushes are revisited: Donnie Wahlberg AND Tom Selleck in the same family!) and my favorite Pandora station is O.A.R. (it's not as lame as it sounds, trust me). And when I'm not at home eating taco flavored Doritos and watching cop dramas [Who am I? It's like I don't even know myself anymore.], I can be spotted out and about in the town that I am slowly growing to love with fun friends.

...as evidenced in the photo at the top of this post. Uploading and arranging pictures in Blogger is as much of an exercise in patience for me as standing in line at the local Wal-Mart is. Do you guys like my haircut in the picture? What? You can't tell that I had it cut because it's still so long that it falls behind my shoulders? Oh, well, yes...that's true. I however feel like I'm suffering from phantom limb because I had about 3.5 inches cut off on Friday. I decided that a haircut was easier than going through the process of legally changing my name to Rapunzel.

So, all of that ramble to say in short that Life [Lately] Is Good.

The Obvious Winner.

2011-02-06T22:13:00.002-05:00

Oh how I love this commercial the most.

Soundtrack: My Days Are So Mixed Up Edition.

2011-01-21T13:43:00.003-05:00

Y'all. Where has this week gone? After my lack of schedule and structure last week and an atypical week this week, I now need a personal assistant to keep me informed on things like what day it is. Or I could always look at my calendar, but that's just boring. I've had this little musical medley compiled in my head since Tuesday, but somehow since then about 72 hours have passed. I can't let a good list go to waste though so here you go... You're welcome.

Man in the Mirror by Michael Jackson. I'm starting with a Michael Jackson song. And of all MJ songs to feature, it's this one. Weird, right? Even weirder...I heard this song at church last week. I've gone to the same church for 3 years and secular music in church still catches me off guard. It's got a good message though. Well, if you want to make the world a better place, it has a good message. And who doesn't want to do that? The same people who as kids said that they want to be a junkie when they grow up. That's who.

Everlasting God by Chris Tomlin. You know how every once in awhile there are those Sunday's when every single song in church is awesome and you wish that it was just a sing-along hour? That's how last Sunday was at church so I'm featuring the entire set list. And while I'm on the subject of Chris Tomlin, check out this bonus clip. Hilarious.

Blessed be Your Name by Matt Redman. Blessed be his name when I'm in the desert place and in the wilderness too? Yep, even then.

Mighty to Save by Hillsong. Everyone does need compassion and mercy and love and all of those other things so you can't go wrong with this song. If you don't, then share some of yours with me. Thanks. Fun fact: Hillsong is coming to the Gwinnett Arena in March. I can't keep track of the days of the week, but I can serve as an event planner for you all. Hmm. And this concludes my Sunday morning worship song portion of today's segment.

Rolling in the Deep by Adele. Have you heard this song? I literally just heard the last part of it in the car the other day but it caught my attention enough for me to figure out the name of the song and who sang it. Yes, I could have done this using the Shazam app on my phone that is smarter than me, but I did my research the old-fashioned way by Googling a line that I could remember when I got home for lunch. As an aside, I don't think Adele looks like I imagined she would look based on her voice. Don't you hate it when actual pictures don't match the mental pictures you've created? Oh, that's just me? Oh well.

Life in a Northern Town by Sugarland (featuring Little Big Town & Jake Owen). Originally done by The Dream Academy (thank you, Wikipedia). I think it's the "hey um um um um's" that get me in this song. Or the Salvation Army Band that plays while children drink lemonade.

Forever in Blue Jeans by Neil Diamond. Confession: I love Neil Diamond. But who doesn't, right? Or does this confession confirm my suspicions that I'm a 62 year-old trapped in the body of someone half my age? I wish that I could be forever in blue jeans. Specifically my 7 "A-pockets" that I'm currently sporting. I wish I had a pair for every day of the week. But that would be a little excessive.

Simple Girl by Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. Can we please discuss the origin of their name? I heard this song on Parenthood this week which IMHO is one of the best shows currently on TV. Because it was only a snippet, my first thought was that it sounded a little Paul Simon-ish. But after a complete listen, it's Paul Simon-ish after he hung out with The Beatles who hung out with Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.
Runaway by The National. Also on Parenthood. Also great. But I'm not a proponent of running away. How can the man in the mirror take a look at himself to change if he's running? Exactly.

Radioactive by Kings of Leon. I like to think that Kings of Leon and The Killers go to the same family reunions. I put them in the same category and I don't have large amounts of room in my world for their kind of music, I do love them both equally. What did I just type? Apparently I've been hanging out with The Beatles and their diamond dust too.

Dueling Ninjas by Trace Bundy. I actually heard this on Pandora earlier today and I totally judged a song by its title. I mean, Dueling Ninjas...how can it not be cool? And then I watched him actually perform this song and determined that it is in fact way cool.

That time I went roller-skating with a bunch of strangers.

2011-01-18T01:40:00.001-05:00

The date was January 18, 1998. It was 13 years ago today, but that particular year, the 18th was a Monday. Please allow me to take a moment to reflect on the fact that I was a freshman in college 13 years ago. Surely I was gifted and started college at age 12 because I don't feel a day over 25.
The Monday of MLK Weekend signifies Bid Day at good ol' NGCSU. It's a grand and glorious occasion where boys come out in droves to see which poor unfortunate girl will lose her footing and fall during her run down the hill to the drill field and collegiate women between the ages of 18 and 23 yell and cheer and paint their faces with their respective sorority colors to name just a few of the nonsensical activities. Please allow me to share my thoughts and views on Greek life in general before we delve any further into today's post. Do I believe that everyone should be in a sorority or fraternity? Nope. Do I believe that one can have fantastic college memories and find lifelong friendships outside of a Greek organization? Absolutely. Do I believe that all sororities are full of ditzy girls who make unfortunate life decisions as they are portrayed in the movies? Heck no. Did my personal experience in a Greek organization instill confidence and leadership skills in me and allow me to meet my very best friends in the whole wide world? Yes, indeed. I loved my time as Phi Mu at North Georgia. But I love the friendships that exist today as a result of my time as a Phi Mu at North Georgia even more. I learned about life with those girls. We did stupid and silly stuff like getting completely bent out of shape over something as trivial as a t-shirt design for an upcoming formal...among other things.
Because it's a reoccurring theme in my life these days, last night when I was thinking about Phi Mu and college and blah blah blah, I thought the choice that I had when deciding which group I wanted to join. During the last night of Rush, I attended two parties. One was Phi Mu and the other was well, another group. I had long decided that I was Team Love, Honor, Truth or nothing at all, but some girls like to play mind games. What? Girls playing mind games? Never!
At the other group's party, the girl that I was paired with told me her story of how she too really wanted to be a Phi Mu. And how she thought that they really wanted her to be a Phi Mu too, but something happened and then she didn't get a bid from them. The good news though was that she was completely ok with that because she found a home and lifelong friendships in the other group. [I know, I know...it's totally eye roll worthy but stay with me, I'm getting to the point.]
So I left that party feeling not so confident, and the choice which seemed crystal clear an hour before was a little cloudy. Even though I knew where I wanted to be and what "felt right" deep down in my getting-bigger-by-the-minute-because-I-was-a-freshman-in-college gut, doubt entered into the equation. The way I saw it, I could either go with the easiest and most direct route to the drill field by choosing "other group" or I could take the risk of sticking to my pink and white guns by holding out for what I knew was right even though there wasn't a guarantee I would have a lovely arrangement of pink and white carnations waiting for me the next day.
In the grand scheme of things, my time in a sorority in college is only a little blip on the screen that is the movie of my life. But the ripple effects last much longer. On Bid Day, I really and truly knew the names and faces of about 10 of the 70 or so sisters. In my Phi Class of 34, I knew faces but no names of only a handful. I literally went roller-skating that night with a bunch of strangers. But now 13 years, 5 bridesmaid dresses, and countless late nights of solving the world's problems one bottle of wine or roll of cookie dough at a time later, the risk of the unknown and of my plan not working out as I hoped and thought it should was absolutely worth it. In that group of strangers, I found friends who know me better than anyone else on this planet. We all face unknowns in life each day. How many times have we been tempted to settle for what's guaranteed and immediate even when we know deep down it isn't what is right? How many times have we taken the risk and in hindsight declared that the risk and uncertainty was absolutely worth it because the pay-off was so much greater? My hope is that we all risk more and settle less when it comes to decisions in life. I think that's step #1 in staying true to ourselves...and to the One who put us here in the first place.

"I hope you slip on the ice and break your neck!"

2011-01-17T16:14:00.002-05:00

For some folks here in the lovely South, last week's "weather incident" left them with a serious case of cabin fever. Tempers were a little bit shorter than usual because homes seemed to shrink in size over a matter of four or five days. Maybe that was why on Saturday when I headed downtown to meet some pals for lunch, a gentleman proceeded to scream the subject line of today's post at me for a good two minutes when I refused to stop for a moment in order answer the question that he needed to ask me. Blame it on all the cop dramas that I had the opportunity to watch last week, but something makes me think that a man who comments on the fact that I had parked "out of the way of everyone else" and then proceeds to compliment me on my choice of handbag isn't interested in my opinion on health care reform or how much wood a woodchuck can chuck. Something also makes me think that it could have been July and his wish for me would have still been that I slip on the ice and break my neck. Anywho...

I loved my break last week. Sure, a week of isolation reaffirmed my belief that I never want to become a hardened criminal locked up in solitary confinement for years on end, but for the most part this temporary break from the hurried world we live in was good for my soul. Each day was essentially a carbon copy of the one before. Woke up, walked dog, fed dog, made coffee, drank coffee (all morning long), read books, walked dog, fed dog, watched TV, exercised, drank hot chocolate, read more books, and watched more TV. Personally I'm just glad that someone was finally at home to hold down the couch all day. Otherwise, I'm sure it would have escaped. The best part about all of this nothing that I managed to accomplish during the snowcation? It was guilt-free! I couldn't get work done because I wasn't able to drive to my office. I had plenty of time to clean my apartment during the 6 days I was there so it wasn't like I even had housework that I needed to get done hanging over my head the whole time.

I think so often we get so hung up in the "should be" and "could be" that we don't take the time to enjoy what actually is. Late last spring my mama gave me some of the best advice that I've ever been given. She told me to stop doing and just be. It's simple really, but do you know how hard it is for a busy bee to just be? Who is going to make the honey if I stop doing everything around here?!? Tomorrow though, I will go back to work. As much as I will miss my 9:30 date with my book and coffee mug and my 2:00 date with Deputy Chief Brenda Lee Johnson, it's time that I do something productive with all of this good energy that I've been building. I think I'll start by picking out an outfit that doesn't include elastic waistbands, pre-shrunk cotton shirts, and Uggs.

Soundtrack: It's Cold Edition.

2011-01-12T20:30:00.004-05:00

It's been 80 hours since I've left my apartment complex. Not that I'm counting. In fact, if not for the 67 pound four-legged generator of boundless energy that looks to me for food and walks, I would be able to say that 80 hours have passed since I've been outdoors. Because who am I kidding? It's freezing out there and my closet isn't exactly adequately stocked with enough wool and fleece for the current outdoor conditions. In honor of Snowmageddon/Snowpocolypse/Snow Jam/The Bane of a Southerner's Existence 2011, I'm featuring cold songs. Yo VIP, let's kick it!

Ice, Ice Baby by Vanilla Ice. I'm dreaming of A1-A Beachfront Avenue. The next time I'm off of work for 4 days maybe I should roll down there in my 5.0.

Cold as Ice by Foreigner. In fact, my hands are as cold as ice. Even while indoors. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that my thermostat is currently set on 64.

Song for a Winter's Night by Sarah McLachlan. So this song is actually featured on her Christmas CD, but technically it's winter now therefore it's appropriate. Besides, it's really not a Christmas song at all. It's a sad song.

Midnight in Montgomery by Alan Jackson. Feel that lonesome chill? I certainly do after being stuck in my 64-degree apartment alone for 4 days. Did I mention that I don't have to work tomorrow too?

Colder Weather by Zac Brown Band. This song is currently tied for first place as being my favorite ZBB song ever. Love it. Even though I discovered it pre-NYE concert, it was one of my favorites of the night at their show as well. Interestingly enough, the song that it's tied with is also appropriate this week...

Cold Hearted by Zac Brown Band. I hope the fellas debuted this song at their March 13, 2010 show. It's haunting and beautiful and the only thing that could make it better would be if Alison Krauss sang it instead or maybe with him. Listen to the song and then put her voice in it. It works. Speaking of Alison Krauss...

Restless by Alison Krauss. If I had to pick one adjective to describe how I'm feeling right about now, that just about sums it up.

Don't Eat the Yellow Snow by Frank Zappa. Sounds like sound advice from mama if I've ever heard sound advice.

Warm It Up by Kris Kross. Sure, the last time I heard this song I was wearing IOU brand sweatshirts and coveting my friends' ZCavaricci's but there's no shame in bringing a hit out of the archives every once in awhile.

Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffett. I wish I was there. I wish the DOT would find their lost shakers of salt and make all of this ice go away.

A hostage situation of sorts.

2011-01-11T21:41:00.006-05:00

Meet my captor...

[Pretend like the above picture is horizontal and let it serve as exhibit #4275 of why I loathe uploading pictures to Blogger.]

From what I can tell based on the non-stop news coverage of Winter Storm Watch 2011, the entire state seems to be enjoying a few snow days. At the rate we're going, it might even be a snow week in some places. Currently my fingers and toes are crossed because working two full weeks after an entire week off for Christmas is quite exhausting. I'm due for a break.

At some point yesterday...today...all of the days are beginning to run together the [former] governor declared a state of emergency. I guess it would have been on Sunday actually since our new governor was sworn in yesterday. The world's busiest airport will shut down and malls across the state will close for days but democracy cannot be delayed people! It's nice to know we haven't completely lost focus of our priorities after all. I digress. Today, however, I declared an entirely new state of emergency: I baked the last batch of cookies. Being in this apartment that is the size of a man's shoebox without medication that comes in the form of chocolate chip cookies may very likely be the cause of my undoing. Especially if the sun doesn't come out tomorrow to speed up the great thaw. Little Orphan Annie lied when she sang about betting my dollar on the sun. All day long today, the sky was grayer than the hairs that I have to pluck out of the crown of my head way too frequently these days.

Honestly I'm enjoying sheer boredom. Reading, exercising, catching up on bad cop dramas, sleeping in, drinking coffee...I really was born to be a lady of leisure. In fact, the most exciting part of my day today was the 10 minute long phone conversation I had with the lady from the IRS. And if this hostage situation continues, I might just reach a new level of boredom that I actually share with you all why I was on the phone with a lady from the IRS in the first place.

Anybody else out there enjoying being a captive in your own home?

My resolve to be resolute.

2011-01-10T01:10:00.001-05:00

Earlier this evening I engaged in a little friendly competition with Mother Nature. If it snowed enough to warrant a snow day, then I would blog. If she made fools out of local meteorologists and the clouds remained greedy with their precipitation, then I would not. What can I say? I grew up as an only child who stooped to low levels for the sake of amusement [after my parents had fulfilled their parental obligation to entertain me beyond measure, of course]. Guess what: Mother Nature won. She always does, my friends. Always. So now even though I should be using my Internet resources to research "building fires in fireplaces" while I still have electricity, I'm keeping my end of the deal and blogging. Besides I don't have any firewood. Or matches.

Today's Topic: New Year's Resolutions.

Now that it's January 10th, many of us who made them are now to the point where we have to stop for a second and think about exactly what it was we resolved to do in 2011. Or do you three readers not make resolutions?

I've been known to make a resolution or two throughout the years. For example, there was the year that I decided to keep an exercise journal. I did...for about 3 years. There was also the year that I gave up french fries. I did...for about 6.5 years. Once I decided to form the habit of taking a multi-vitamin everyday. I did...until I ran out of them that one time and never bought anymore at the store. Until last week. One year I decided to journal daily even if I really had nothing to say. I did...until October of the same year.

Of course it's easy to identify the benefits of all of these resolutions. I happened to be training for a half-marathon the year I started the exercise journal so it was especially important that I keep track of my progress. Cutting out french fries is a no-brainer. Look at how heart healthy I was for those 6 years! Never mind all the cookies and pizza I supplemented with during the absence of my favorite deep fried carbohydrate. Multi-vitamins? Who doesn't benefit from those? But the more I sit here and think about those resolutions, the more my real purpose and intent behind those resolutions becomes apparent. Sure, I remember exactly what I wore on the first day of kindergarten [and all sorts of other random, ridiculous things], but does anyone find it odd that I remember exactly how long I kept those resolutions? Yes, odd even for me...the girl who remembers everything. Here's the question: Did I keep those resolutions for the benefits gained from them or for the 'bragging rights' to share how long I kept them? Hmmm. Was I simply going through the motions so I could check off another box of something that I had completed? Is that really the purpose of resolutions? Probably not. And it's probably something everyone else in the entire universe figured out long ago but I've said it before: it takes me longer to learn the simple stuff.

How often do we go through the motions of life completing tasks and taking action on things just to say that we've done them? Or not doing things so we can say that we didn't do them? Is that really living? While I love lists and forms and filling in blanks, I've learned that life is too dynamic and three-dimensional to ever fit neatly on the one-dimensional list that I've created. It's too big to fit into the finite space of a blank on a page.

Very rarely do the things that I write here and the things that I write in my journal intersect. My journal is for me. But today I'm going to share what I journaled this afternoon with you. It's my 2011 resolution...of sorts. Here goes: "...I want this year to be my year of living in the moment, not dwelling on the past or looking so forward into the future that I miss the here and now. This does not mean that I am not hopeful about the future because I am certainly hopeful. God is such a big and mighty God that I am confident he is going to use me in a big and mighty way. I pray that I continuously seek his will for my life so that I can do the work that brings him glory. ... I want to give back this year. People have loved me and shown me such compassion and grace through such a tough time last year. My desire is that I pass that along to those around me who are hurting. I pray that my heart be full of love and compassion because love and anger cannot reside together in the same heart. And it is love that never fails. I want to open my heart to love because that is what it is ready for."

Note: When I refer to love I'm not referring to love of the starry-eyed and giddy as a school girl persuasion. It's just that my heart has healed to the point after dad's death and the event we will simply refer to as "the summer that earned me size 2 pants" that I'm no longer so numb and incapable of giving to the people around me.

My resolution for this year isn't really quantifiable. In fact probably when I go back and reread this little ramble before I hit "publish post", I'll wonder just what exactly it is that I'm so determined to do. But that's kind of it...I'm determined to be determined in the things that I do. I want to do them with heart. I don't want to lose heart when I don't put my heart into something like I could have or should have. This is a tall order. I should rest up.

My 12 Days of Christmas

2011-01-05T11:00:00.002-05:00

Hi, blogosphere. I'm back after a bit of a holiday hiatus. Do you all remember Christmas? It seems like eons ago, right? Its only fitting now that nearly 12 days have passed since the most recent celebration of the dear lord baby Jesus's birth, I will attempt to recap how I spent my Christmas vacation. Initially I had planned to just sleep through the entire season of giving and joy and celebration. But then I determined that if I slept through the gift exchange someone else would get to open my presents. And there's nothing that two boys within the 12-17 year age range want more than a crock pot or coffee maker.

I'm happy to report that I started and finished all of my Christmas shopping approximately 5 days before Christmas. I did simplify my gift-giving a great deal this year because shopping for people who already have tons of stuff stresses. me. out. The boys and I engaged in a little friendly competition this year to see which of us could come up with the "best" gifts for each other from Goodwill. I'm quite proud of my PCB"belly buster" shirt and blinged-out handbag. With any luck, I'll wear them together while out on the town here in the Classic City. I don't know if I should tell you all to Beware or to be excited.

Probably the biggest thing to report is that during my 12 days of Christmas, I was literally home for 12 days. And by home, I mean mom's house. I'm pretty sure I haven't spent 12 days in a row there since I was in college. Not that I have this crazy aversion to my family...it's more that I very much love my space with my things and my bed and my kitchen and my time, blah blah blah. Call me an independent only-child. It wouldn't be the first time I've been called one of those. I'm happy to report that a good time was had by all during my 12 days of captivity (Oh, I kid!).

In addition to lots of family time, I enjoyed the snow on Christmas Day (in! the! South!), catching up on my recreational reading, catching up with some sweet friends, seeing Common Thread at Smith's Olde Bar, spending NYE in Atlanta to the tunes of the Zac Brown Band, and watching True Grit to start off the first day of 2011.

This post provides me with plenty of opportunity to share pictures of my 12 days. That was my original intent BUT my fancy-smancy new-fangled phone is taking its own sweet time sending some of the pictures that I've taken over the course of the holidays. Instead I'll just cheat and include this hyperlink which makes my pictures from the 2010: Chapter 12 Facebook album accessible to you all . With any luck my pictures that I took with my phone in 2010 will show up in my inbox sometime before the end of 2011 and I'll eventually include those in the FB album. Why am I sharing my inner thoughts and monologue with you three here who have been so kind to stop by and read? No idea. I'll add that to my laundry list of things to work on in 2011.

Mission Accomplished.

2010-12-23T02:24:00.002-05:00

Do you all remember George W.'s speech back in 2003 when he flew in (on?) to the USS Abraham Lincoln in his jazzy flight suit and declared in front of God and hopeful, happy Americans everywhere that the mission was accomplished? [By mission he was referring to the end of major combat operations in Iraq for those of you who were busy watching Sponge Bob Squarepants with your roommate after a hard day at the office as a professional working girl. Not that I would know anything about that.] And then do you all remember how we hopeful, happy Americans woke up the next day and the day after that and the day after that and to our not-privvy-to-classified-information-eyes it didn't really seem that all that much had actually changed? Well, that's kind of how I feel about finishing up grad school. As of last Friday at 2:30 in the afternoon, my purpose and reason for moving my home, job, and life to Athens a mere 3.5 years ago was accomplished. Don't get me wrong...I'm ELATED to be done for once and for all. In fact, I don't really think it has actually dawned on me yet that I'm done. Perhaps in January when a new semester begins and I don't have that constant nagging guilt of "I really should be doing school work instead of watching a Law & Order: SVU marathon on a Sunday afternoon." hanging over my head. I mean, seriously...Law & Order: SVU??? Never in my life did I watch that show until I resorted to scraping the bottom of the procrastination tactics barrel during my last semester.

On Friday night, I happened to run into my advisor and her husband at dinner. We were talking and he asked me what I was going to do now. My response: Well, I'm going to work next Monday. To the outside observer, it may appear that nothing really will change all that much. Unless of course you consider the absence of my whining about having school work to do. And admittedly during these first few post-graduate school graduation days as the realization of being done has begun to set it, I have been a little bit frustrated because I met this goal/reached this milestone/accomplished my mission only to be greeted with the same old apartment and the same old job and the same old salary when I get back into town after Christmas. Clarification: I am absolutely grateful for the security that accompanies those "same old things".

Tonight however, I began to think a little beyond the surface. While my routine that has been essentially the same for the last 3.5 years will continue to be that way for at least the foreseeable future, so much has changed in my life. In fact, I have experienced more "life-changing" events in the years that I was in grad school than all of my other years combined. Through these events, I have come to believe that maybe it's not even the actual event but my response to the event that determines how I grow (or wilt) as a person. As I reach the completion of another level of higher education, never in my life have I been more aware of my need for sheer and utter dependence upon a higher power. [And my higher power has a pretty big event coming up on the 25th of this month in case you're wondering if I'm referring to a specific or just any higher power here.] I am at the point in my life when I have never been more formally educated, yet the knowledge that there are certain things in life that are absolutely beyond my control is what is most forefront in my mind. The most important lessons that I have learned while in grad school did not take place in a classroom. Ironically though, were it not for the classroom lectures and material on adult learning that is a component of the program's curriculum, I don't know if my response to and reflection on the events in my life would have been the same. The timing of all of these things in my life lining up quite nicely [now that I can look back on them all and see it] is a great reminder that I am not responsible for the day-to-day operations of Planet Earth despite my best efforts in trying to shoulder that responsibility.

Does everyone here see the parallel that I'm making with my George W. reference and my graduation? If I need to I'm sure that I can have Dubya come in as a guest blogger to make the point crystal clear. Obviously I'm tired because I typically try not to reference politicians or their politics here on the ol' blog. Here's my point. [I think. There's a chance that I'll reread this tomorrow and none it will really be all that coherent.] We may reach what we think is the end of something only to realize that it's actually the beginning. I'm so pumped about my beginning that I'm giving my three readers out there a virtual fist bump.

If it weren't way past my bedtime, I would pretty this post up with some pictures of the glorious graduation day of which I write. Instead I'm including this hyperlink with photo documentation that it really did happen. I'm sure I'll write again when the actual diploma arrives. Maybe that's when I'll really believe that I'm done.

The time Alexander Graham Bell rolled over in his grave.

2010-12-16T07:45:00.001-05:00

There is a sociological model known as the technology adoption lifecycle. For those of you who have already checked out for Christmas vacation, please don't check out from this post because I promise that the educational value parallels the nutritional value of circus peanuts. Anywho...the model is based on the premise that we all fall somewhere within the spectrum of the technology adoption lifecycle which ranges from innovators to early adopters to early majority to late majority and finally, the laggards. If asked, I would declare that I fit in quite comfortably between the early majority and late majority. Perhaps the fact that I just got DVR earlier this year would lead you to believe otherwise. Or if you have ever attempted to send me an image via text message and I never acknowledge it [Because! My! Phone! Won't! Let! Me!], I suspect that you roll your eyes and discuss amongst your cool tech savvy friends "this poor girl you know" who still has a flip phone that only has the functions of phone calls and standard text messaging. No more, my friends. No. More.

Before we get all oogly-eyed over [the picture on the box of] the shiny new phone, can we please just make a few observations about the old phone? Or more specifically the charger. I mean, seriously...aren't the exposed wires somehow some sort of fire hazard? And just last night the silver trim that borders the keypad on the inside that you see propped up there on the phone like it's being sold on QVC fell off while I was in the middle of a phone conversation. Which really means that it stuck to the side of my face because the 4 year old glue that finally came loose from the phone still adheres nicely to skin. It's been a good phone. It's even been with me through and longer than two boyfriends. We won't compare its reliability and consistency with theirs. Oh...I kid, I kid!

Now I realize that me with this new phone is akin to giving a 16 year-old boy the keys to a Corvette. Lack of experience + Lots of power = Danger Zone. That's why I plan to ease into using a phone that is smarter than me much like I enter a swimming pool: test the waters before diving right in. I'll say there's a pretty great chance that I may even take it out of the box before the end of the day.

Soundtrack: My Favorite Christmas Song Edition

2010-12-15T11:03:00.003-05:00

O Holy Night

O holy night! The stars are brightly shining,

It is the night of the dear Saviour's birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining.

'til He appeared and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!

O night divine, the night when Christ was born;

Truly He taught us to love one another,

His law is love and His gospel is peace.

Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.

And in his name all oppression shall cease.

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,

With all our hearts we praise His holy name.

Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,

His power and glory ever more proclaim!

First a little history about the song. According to my dear friends at Wikipedia... O Holy Night is a well-known Christmas carol composed by Adolphe Adam in 1847 to the French poem "Minuit, chrétiens" (Midnight, Christians) by Placide Cappeau. [Don't say I've never taught you anything, blogosphere.] In copying and pasting the words of the song, I left out the 2nd stanza. Not that the second stanza isn't important, I just would like to focus on the first and third today. I hope you spend some time during all of the craziness that accompanies the Christmas season as we know it in a quiet spot and reflect over these lyrics and what they truly mean.

I have multiple favorite versions of this song. Josh Groban? Check. Celine Dion? Check. Martina McBride? Check. Kelly Clarkson? Check. Celtic Woman? Check. [Even though I'm not sure why they are wearing their Easter best in this particular performance.] Eric Cartman? Just seeing if you people are paying attention. Andrea Bocelli & his friend, David Foster? You got it.

What's your favorite Christmas song of all time?

Soundtrack: The 12 Songs of Christmas Edition.

2010-12-08T06:30:00.000-05:00

Before I dive any deeper into today's musical feature, let me just go ahead and put it out there that The Twelve Days of Christmas will not be one of today's songs. This may come as a disappointment for you Christmas carol traditionalists who are reading along at home. My apologies. Might I recommend that you create your own list and then share it with the group. And by group, I mean my three regular readers. Let's get this party started, right?

Little Drummer Boy by MercyMe. Alright so I know that this song has a good meaning. I know that the dear Lord baby Jesus wants us to use the gifts and talents that he has given us in order to turn them back in praise and glory for him. But. Each and every time I hear this song, I get so cracked up at the thought of the ox and lamb keeping time. I mean, really? Barn animals keeping time? Let's be a little realistic please. In my mind, the ox and lamb are both standing together in the corner, wearing sunglasses, smoking cigars (um, hello...a baby was just born, let's celebrate!), and snapping their fingers and stomping their hooves.

Mele Kalikimaka by Bing Crosby. This is the song I have been singing in the mornings when I'm out walking my dog in the arctic temps. Mind over matter, people.

Mary Did You Know? by Kenny Rogers and Wynonna Judd. Love can build a bridge and because it can, I'm convinced you all will still be my friend even though this particular version of the song is my favorite one. The song in general though is easily one of my favorites ever. While we're on the subject of song titles in the form of a question...

What Child is This? by Sarah McLachlan. Do yourself a favor and please obtain your own personal copy of Sarah's Wintersong cd. It's a rare one that I will listen to all the way through without skipping ahead. In fact, it's so good that songs from it made my list twice this week.

River by Sarah McLachlan. Joni Mitchell actually sang this song first but ol' Sarah does a great cover. Notice how I seem to be on a first name basis with Sarah? I'm acting as if there is a Christmas card from her waiting for me at home in my mailbox. Yes, as a matter of fact this may be the one of the most depressing songs ever. There's something about melancholy that just feels so good though, isn't there?

Happy Christmas (War is Over) by John Lennon. Did you know that it was 30 years ago today when John Lennon was murdered? Did you know that I invited Debbie Downer to be a guest blogger today?

Santa Claus is Coming to Town by Jackson 5. I hope Santa Claus has room in his sleigh for a house with a fenced-in backyard this year because I am already tired of walking my dog in the cold and it's only been cold for 3 days. I suspect that there's more room for a nice gloves, scarf, and hat combo. I also suspect that some of you out there prefer Bruce's version of this song.

In honor of the 8th crazy night of Hanukkah (Chanukah?), The Chanukah Song by Adam Sandler. Why haven't I heard this song at all this season? Could it be because I've had my head stuck in the sand trying to finish school? Surely not.

O Come, O Come Emmanuel. I couldn't really find a version of this song that I like all that well online. This one by Sufjan Stevens is alright...even though I much prefer a big booming baritone voice versus a ukulele being the musical accompaniment to his not so big and booming bariton voice. It's really the lyrics that get me though and those are the same in all versions.

Christmas Song by Dave Matthews Band. Confession: I do listen to this song before Thanksgiving. It's just that good.

Merry Christmas from the Family by Robert Earl Keen. How come all commercials and Norman Rockwell paintings depict perfect families enjoying perfect dinners on a perfect winter day? I think that REK speaks a little more realistically of most families at Christmas gatherings. Except for mine, of course. I come from a long line of sophistication and class and we served as inspiration for most of Rockwell's work.

Here With Us by Joy Williams. I heard this song for the first time ever on my way to work Monday morning. More than anything in this world I am so thankful to know that the little baby sent by God long, long ago is here with us even today. And tomorrow. And forever.

Whatever happened to bobbleheads on dashboards?

2010-12-02T06:00:00.001-05:00

I'm glad to see that the Hallway of Heads scene in Return to Oz seemingly left a more positive impression with this person than it did with me.

Soundtrack: It's beginning to sound a lot like Christmas Edition.

2010-12-01T07:00:00.006-05:00

Anybody out there love dessert? Think about your most favorite dessert in the whole wide world. Mine happens to be red velvet cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory. Love. It. The last time I had it though was in February. If it was something that I ate frequently it would kind of lose its appeal. Kind of like spaghetti. It's good, but I get sick and tired of it after having it for the 4th meal in a row. In fact, after a couple of days with leftover spaghetti, I wish that spaghetti would buy a one-way ticket to Italy and never bother to renew its passport. What does my ramble about food have to do with music? Everything. My feelings about Christmas music are very similar to my feelings about spaghetti. There is such thing as too much of a good thing. In fact, I have one strict commandment when it comes to Christmas music: Thou shalt not play Christmas music in my presence before Thanksgiving. Have I ever mentioned my uncle, Ebenezer Scrooge? I kid, I kid. In the spirit of Christmas though, I would like to dedicate my soundtrack segments between now and December 25th to some of my favorite music that I spin at my house for about 30 days each year. 'Tis the season!

Christmas in Hollis by Run D.M.C. What? You didn't really think I was going to start with Jingle Bells did you? Not when Mom's cooking chicken and collard greens!

Pretty Paper by Willie Nelson. Did anyone happen to see Willie [back] in the headlines this week? Talk about same song, 99th verse. Kind of makes me wonder if he's singing about wrapping paper or rolling papers in this song though.

Last Christmas by Wham! It really wouldn't be Christmas without a little George Michael now would it? Don't answer that question.

Wizards in Winter by Trans-Siberian Orchestra. TSO is playing in Atlanta in mid-December. Dear Santa, I've been a good girl this year. If you are out there reading, I would really like to see their show. Love, HP

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen/We Three Kings by Barenaked Ladies featuring Sarah McLachlan. I know, I know. The whole thing sounds a little unnatural but it's a good combo so go with it. After a couple of listens there's a pretty great chance that if you had a million dollars, you would pay these guys to come play your Christmas party.

Go Tell It on the Mountain by Little Big Town. Hmmm. It seems that Little Big Town performed this on that television special earlier this week. The aforementioned special was not my inspiration for featuring it today though. It just so happens that this song is on HP's Holiday Hits: Volume II that I was listening to this morning on the way into work.

Children Go Where I Send Thee by Natalie Merchant. When I was a little girl, I had the Cabbage Patch Kids Christmas record. It was my favorite Christmas record even above Gene Autry's "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and Elvis's "Blue Christmas" records. This song was on that record, and I might have worn that part of the record out listening to it so much. I happen to love the grown up Natalie Merchant version now that I'm a big girl. Recognize the guest voices in her version?

Do You Hear What I Hear by Whitney Houston. She sings this one with a voice as big as the sea.

Mistletoe by Colbie Caillat. According to Colbie it's not Christmas if the snow doesn't fall. Well, that certainly saves me a lot of shopping.

Hard Candy Christmas by Dolly Parton. Dolly is clearly in an emotional state when she sings this song. Fortunately she realizes the perils of maybe getting drunk on apple wine and decides to maybe learn to sew instead. I hope she lets the apple wine hangover wear off first though or else she's likely to prick her finger with a sewing needle. My wish is that you all have a hard candy Christmas. Minus the toothaches and apple wine hangovers.

And now for my little Christmas gift to myself [and you all]: a non-Christmas bonus track. This week I would like to share Little Miss by Sugarland. I just love it when songs are written especially for me.

Rejoice. Pray. Give Thanks.

2010-11-25T22:59:00.005-05:00

"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." - 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Within this very familiar passage of scripture, there is one prepositional phrase (er...sorry technical writing pals if I'm not using the correct technical term) that really sticks out to me this year: in everything give thanks. Everything? Even the stuff we would like to fast-forward through or better yet, go back in time and erase completely? Yep. I think so. Even the curve balls we are thrown? Yep. I think so. Sounds like a pretty tall order, doesn't it? Yep. I think so. There were some curve balls thrown my way this year, and it just so happens that I don't own a catcher's mitt. It goes without saying that those curve balls hurt. So I'm going to take Paul's advice. I'm not declaring success. I certainly cannot do it alone, but with God's grace I might just come close to giving thanks in everything. Speaking of God's grace, this is absolutely what I am most thankful for this year. Because of this grace, I have not nor will I ever lose my joy. Therefore, I rejoice. I am thankful that I live in a country where I can rejoice and pray without fear of persecution. I am thankful that I know my God hears those prayers. I am thankful that the same God who hears them answers them in the way that is best for his kiddos.

I am thankful for hurt. I am thankful for healing. I am thankful for hope.

Soundtrack: Under Pressure Edition.

2010-11-17T16:17:00.002-05:00

To say that the past couple of weeks have been a little stressful is like saying there's a little bit of salt in the ocean. To say that I sometimes sound a little dramatic here on my blog is like saying that Heidi has had a little work done. Nonetheless, I have had a lot going on. Don't believe me? Well, today was my defense for school and being the pro procrastinator that I am, preparing for it has made me aware of how much more sleep a gal in her 30's needs than a gal in her 20's does. So today's soundtrack theme is dedicated to the songs I've been spinning that are just fun to sing along with or are a little bit encouraging and motivational. Sorry, Rocky theme music not included.

Brand New Day by Josh Radin. I tried to pick out my favorite line in this song, but I couldn't. But for the first time in such a long, long time, I know I'll be ok. Fact.

Never Been to Spain by Three Dog Night. How can you not like Three Dog Night? Or this song? Even if you don't, what does it matter?

Float On by Modest Mouse. Isn't it great to know that good news is on the way and we'll all float on anyway?

Narrow Escape by Ray LaMontagne. Ok, maybe not so much motivational or uplifting, but it's Ray LaMontagne and his mellowness sometimes trumps those two. Now is one of those times.

1999 by Prince. Tonight I'm going to party like it's 1999. Why? Because I passed my defense, that's why. And sometimes back in 1999, I partied by throwing on my flannel pj's and heading on over to Lewis Hall with a sleeve of cookie dough to hang out with my pals Suz and Kat while one of them had RA duty. Maybe I'll party like it's 2009 instead. I've gotten waaaaaaay cooler. Speaking of...

Raise Your Glass by Pink. Too school for cool? Too cool for school? Too lame for my own well-being? I'm going with door #3.

Wave on Wave by Pat Green. I realize that transitioning from Pink to Pat Green is much like pouring boiling water into a frosted mug. Not the best of ideas. But Pat Green kind of makes me think we should all just pack up and move to Texas and sit out in big field and listen to him play music all day. Imagine what a stress-free environment that would be.

Hello World by Lady Antebellum. Did anyone see the CMAs last Wednesday? I had actually heard this song earlier that day when I was driving to campus to distribute my portfolio to my committee. And I might have gotten a little misty-eyed. If I were prone to getting misty-eyed when listening to music, that is. Added bonus when I heard it a second time that day during the CMAs.

Free Fallin' by Tom Petty. I'm a good girl and it just so happens that I love my mama, Jesus, and America too.

Nights on Broadway by the Bee Gees. [There are so many reasons why you should click on the hyperlink to the song...primarily the girl's top.] Oh, the Bee Gees. I feel like I missed out on so much since I wasn't a child of the 70's. Confession: This was my theme music today as I was driving over to my defense. Another Confession: it's not so much this actual song that I love but since I heard it on the radio the other day I haven't been able to get this out of my mind...

4 Questions & A Few Thoughts.

2010-11-14T18:40:00.001-05:00

A little over a year ago, I attended a church service at North Point Community Church in Alpharetta. On that particular Sunday, Andy Stanley began a new series called "Your Move" about decision making. He says that essentially there are 4 questions we can ask ourselves when trying to make a decision. [Clarification: He's not talking about decisions such as "Would my Uggs or cowboy boots look better with this outfit?" even though fashion decisions are some of the toughest ones we ladies (and gents) have to make.] The first question to consider was "Why am I doing this, really?" Stanley explained that we are masterminds at talking ourselves into or out of doing things. Ol' Andy had a point.

Fast forward from that Sunday in September 2009 to about 3 weeks ago. I was all settled into my usual row at Athens Church, drinking my coffee because it's cool to drink coffee in church, and getting ready for some good music. Now I have always [jokingly] referred to Athens Church as being like the dollar movies because we get all of Andy's messages long after he does them in real-time at North Point. I had missed the Sunday before so I was coming in at message #2 of the current series. It took me about minute to realize that the reason why the theme sounded so familiar was because I had already heard the first message. That particular week, question 2 was: "What story do I want to tell?" and a week later, question 3: "Is there tension that needs my attention?"

Pause. It's been awhile since I've really shared anything personal with you three out there in the blogosphere. Partly because I have been super busy and partly because I think that we are far too free with the information we share about our lives on the web these days. I want my story to be used in a way that others will benefit from it but first I've got to make sure that I'm getting the point myself in order for it to do more good than harm. In light of the events that took place back in the summer, I have been harboring some anger over the past month or so. Who am I kidding? It is what it is: rage. You know that whole "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" saying? I think there's something to it. I'm not proud of my anger, but I'm also not trying to ignore it because anger is a perfectly natural emotion that I believe is necessary for me to feel in order to truly get past the hurt that preceded it. And nope, I didn't pay a therapist for that sentence even though I see nothing wrong with paying a therapist for such insight. Anger becomes a problem when we hang onto it like we did our blankets or teddy bears during childhood, but more on that later. Admittedly as I listened to the second and third messages, I couldn't help but to think about how the person that accompanied me to North Point last year would benefit so much more from this series than me. ...and then I invited all of my friends over after church to check out my new glass house that I have recently moved into. Ahem.

Last week was the final message and question: "What would be most honoring to God?" Seriously...Andy had to bring God into the questions? He should just stay in the Bible where we can put him away on a bookshelf. Suddenly my toes were just as black and blue as my little bruised heart.

Now for the few thoughts...
Who here has siblings? Who here has ever been hurt by a sibling? Who here as ever been royally ticked off when mom and dad did not respond or handle the situation in a manner that you felt was suitable and fair? The anger that I have been struggling with revolves around the fact that for five months, the love, trust, honesty and respect that I gave to someone was exchanged for lies and cover-ups. With seemingly zero consequences for the aforementioned someone.

Back to the questions...
Who here thinks that good parents love all of their children equally? Even though a parent may be so disappointed in the actions of a child especially when that child hurts one of the other children, the disappointment doesn't diminish their love for the problem child. Who on this earth knows a child better than his or her parents? No one. Who here thinks that good parenting involves a family vote when determining how to handle a child's actions? Can you imagine the anarchy that would erupt around the family dinner table? Do you see where I'm going with this? The parallels I'm trying to make? Just as a parent loves all of their children equally, God loves all of his children. Even when we are little brats. He knows our hearts better than we do. He knows what's best for us better than we do. He knows how to "parent" us and we all need parenting a little differently. Ever wonder how three kids so different could ever come from the same two parents? Exactly. That's the beauty of a personal relationship.

A few more thoughts...
I do not want to tell a story of how I became an embittered old lady with a bunch of cats and a thirst for justice that would make even the Cullens seem like vegetarians. There are far too many stories of bitterness and anger on the shelves these days, and no one is interested in reading them. Why? Because they don't end well, what's why. I don't know a lot, but I do know that God's will for my life is not for me to get so hung up on and infuriated over the "whys" of a particular situation that was completely out of my control in the first place. I mean seriously, don't we eventually begin to feel sorry for the rat that spends its days running in a wheel? Nobody wants to be the rat running in a wheel. I certainly don't anyway. In short, the decision to spend my days in a fit of rage is not most honoring to God.

This morning at church in an entirely different message, the scripture was this:
“But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you." -Luke 6:27-31. Yep...it all comes down to the Golden Rule.

As if my toes had not already been stomped on enough, they got a few more bruises this morning. If I listen though and truly take these words to heart, instead of having a crippling effect, they will give me the strength that I need to walk. But it's not the words that give me the strength. It's the one who said them.

One more thing before I go. [I know, I know...it's like mile 12 of a half-marathon...you just want to get it over with and be done already.] I am reading Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning and in it he quotes Henri Nouwen. I find it fitting for this blog post as well as the season that we are entering.

"To be grateful for the good things that happen in our lives is easy, but to be grateful for all of our lives - the good as well as the bad, the moments of joy as well as the moments of sorrow, the successes as well as the failures, the rewards as well as the rejections - that requires hard spiritual work. Still, we are only grateful people when we can say thank you to all that has brought us to the present moment. As long as we keep dividing our lives between events and people we would like to remember and those we would rather forget, we cannot claim the fullness of our beings as a gift of God to be grateful for. Let's not be afraid to look at everything that has brought us to where we are now and trust that we will soon see in it the guiding hand of a loving God."

On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month...

2010-11-11T08:26:00.002-05:00

an armistice went into effect which essentially ended the fighting during "The Great War" or what we know as World War I. This was in the year 1918 and many moons later in the year 1954, we began celebrating Veterans Day. Both of my grandfathers are veterans. So is one of my uncles. As are two of my cousins. Until the global war on terrorism that is currently being waged began 5 or so years ago, I honestly never really thought that much about Veterans Day. Sure, I knew that both of my grandfathers were in WWII and my uncle was in Vietnam but didn't everyone have grandfathers who faught in WWII and uncles who faught in Vietnam? In my mind, veterans were old men who fought in wars during a time long before I was even a figment of anyone's imagination and in places far, far away. I was far removed from the reality of war. Apparently I watched too many Miss America pageants as a child and somewhere along the way thought that the contestants' messages of World Peace had made an impression on the powers that be because I never imagined that my generation would be a generation of war veterans. Until 2003 happened and suddenly I knew people on the road to Baghdad. My former classmates. My friends. Fiances and boyfriends of some of my closest friends in the world. It put a whole new perspective on such matters for me when my peers became the ones who were responsible for leading Soldiers into battle and protecting the American people from harm. Sure, the fighting was taking place in a land far away but lives were impacted all around me. The word Veteran was no longer reserved for old men full of memories that took place years ago on foreign soil. Now, I cannot say for sure, but I imagine that serving in the military is much like being a parent in the sense that it has potential to be a pretty thankless job. When I was growing up, my parents always provided for my every need (and most wants) without expecting anything from me in return. Did I ever think to tell them "Thanks" for things like food or school shoes or ballet lessons? Of course not. Yet they continued to do their job of parenting. I didn't really know what it was like to not have something. But when something went missing, who did I look to first to fix the problem? Dear old mom and dad. Well, the same goes for us living here in the United States. We don't know what it's like to not have the rights and privileges that we do. But if we woke up one morning and suddenly they were gone, who would we look to first and wonder what happened? Not mama and daddy, but Uncle Sam's nephews and nieces. Of course the people responsible for fighting for these freedoms we have lived a long time ago. However it's the generations that have followed who were and are responsible for maintaining them. I mean, one can't lose a bunch of weight and then immediately revert back to eating cookies and cheeseburgers and expect to keep the weight off right? It has to be maintained. The same goes for the protection of a nation. If we had no military, I imagine that we would all be saying things like oot and aboot or however it is that those crazy Canadians to our north say things. Or we'd all be taking an afternoon siesta between lunch and the end of the work day...ok, that might not be so bad. The point that I'm trying to make is that I think that we all have roles to play as Americans. If we aren't cut out for camo and combat boots, then we need to do our part to show our appreciation to those who are. So all that to say...Thanks. Thanks Pop and Papa and Uncle Hugh and Kyle and Kasey. Thanks friends. Thanks prospective student who I'm working with as he is making plans to get back into school next fall after he serves his last few months in Iraq. Thanks. And Happy Veterans Day.
"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." - John 15:13

[Note: Originally published on November 11, 2008.]

"Y'know, Nietzsche says: 'Out of chaos comes order'."

2010-11-04T18:38:00.005-04:00

Really?!? This is the desk of one who is within weeks of graduating with a Master's degree in OD? I'm sure housekeepers have dirty homes, right?

Soundtrack: OPP Edition.

2010-11-03T12:25:00.005-04:00

My inspiration for this week's soundtrack post was founded in last week's Hollywood buzz that my boy Justin has gone and cheated on Jessica. [Yes, as a matter of fact, I did enter a period of brief mourning because I do love Justin T.] We all know that human nature loves a good story about liars and cheaters with no regard to the actual truth of the matter. I will tip-toe out on a limb here and say that usually though where there is smoke, unfortunately there is fire. What we all think really doesn't matter though because the two people that really matter know the truth. And even if he looks directly into her eyes and assures her that he loves her and she's his one and only, when Mary Camden gets really honest with herself, she'll know if he's telling the truth or not. He can't hide those lyin' eyes. Even if she doesn't want to believe what her gut is telling her. I mean, it really is like a 7th Heaven episode, isn't it? And if the rumors are true then I hope Jessica Biel rocks on with her smoking hot [butalittletoomasculineinmyopinion] body and says bye bye bye to the boy that will soon be cryin' a river of his own when he realizes that what goes around comes around. She can put on her boots and start walking to the beat of this little playlist I've created.

Your Cheating Heart by Hank Williams, Sr. I mean, seriously. Country music was made for cheating songs. I might as well pull an oldie but goody out of the archives to get this party started. After all, Jessica is wearing boots.

You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette. In my opinion, Alanis is kind of like caffeine. Small doses taken in moderation is fine but if you push your limits and have too much of it, it sends you straight. over. the. edge. I wonder if Alanis was having a bad day when she wrote this song. More importantly, I wonder if Alanis has ever had a good day.

White Blank Page by Mumford & Sons. Did you think I wouldn't feature a Mumford & Sons song? What are you? Crazy? Why do you think I've been listening to that CD nonstop for weeks now? This song, is why. I also think that Damien Rice and that girl (why can I never remember her name?) could have done this song really well in their own style. Speaking of...

9 Crimes by Damien Rice and Lisa Hannigan. I know I've mentioned this song before and I try to avoid sounding like a broken record (ha!) but it's just too good not to use again. And now I'm bloggin' cause it's relevant, not just for the helluva' it. [Seriously, I am on a roll.]

Beautiful Liar by Beyonce and Shakira. I. Love. This. Song. I had totally forgotten about it until I started thinking about that country song about cheating that was performed by two women. Any guesses where I'm going with this one? If you are a girl born between the years of 1975 and 1982 who was exposed to country music for at least 5 minutes during 1993 and haven't performed your own rendition of this song with your greatest gal pal then you really haven't lived. I'm just saying. Give up? Alright, here's your answer...

Does He Love You by Reba McIntyre and Linda Davis. The lesson to be learned here? The redhead will always prevail.

Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss. Y'all. How could Brad and Alison just stand there and sing while poor little Ricky Schroder gets his heart broken after returning home from the great war to only drink himself to death? What? It's just a story? Well, then I take back every tear I've ever shed while watching this video.

All These Years by Sawyer Brown. Because once I bring you down with a song, I like to keep you there for awhile by mentioning another ridiculously sad song about men who love women that treat them oh so wrong. See, men aren't the only womanizers out there. I mean...well...you know what I mean.

Hit 'Em Up Style by Blu Cantrell. Thanks to Anna for reminding me of this little tune. I'm pretty sure this is featured on my MTV Party to Go Vol. 4926 CD right between Ginuwine's Pony and that terrible Fantasy song by Ludacris. Ol' Blu is classy like that.

Not Gon' Cry by Mary J. Blige. If there was ever a great uniter between the country and R&B genres it is the lack of faithfulness in relationships. At least something of worth was brought together over cheating. If Mary J. isn't going to cry, then I don't think Jessica should either.

Bonus Track: November Rain by Guns N' Roses. It's November. It's raining. It's the best song GNR has ever done. And one day my wedding dress will look just like the bride's in the video. I sure do hope my groom looks like the groom in the video. And once again my sarcasm ruins a perfectly good musical moment.

Soundtrack: Pursuing the Dream Edition.

2010-10-27T08:00:00.000-04:00

Think back with me for a few moments to your childhood. If it's been so long since you were there that you can't remember much of it, at least think back to the period in your life when your dreams weren't completely eclipsed by your reality. Are you there? Good. How many of you wanted to be famous when you grew up? Somebody big who was known for something good. Personally, I'm still waiting for Lorne Michaels to call and invite me to join the cast of SNL. Hmmm...did you notice how I worded that? I'm still waiting. Waiting doesn't really equate to doing, now does it? Perhaps somewhere along the way some of us let go of our dreams because we realize how much blood, sweat, and tears they will cost us and we aren't willing to pay the price. Or we are confronted with the reality that there is a reason why there aren't multiple athletes who have won 8 gold medals in a single Olympic games, and perhaps that reason isn't lack of heart or desire but natural ability. As with anything the harder we have to work for something, the more we appreciate it. [Or am I the only one whose mama told her that when my friends were being given things left and right and I was throwing on my Kroger polo shirt for my Saturday night shift?]

Maybe you are in pursuit of your own dream. Maybe you are standing on the sidelines watching someone else in his or her own personal pursuit. Maybe you've become so bogged down with the realities of today that you abandoned dreams long ago. If that's the case, might I recommend that you have a conversation with a child. [Preferably one you know or else the child's poor mother will likely report you to the local authorities.] Ask them what they want to be. Ask them who their heroes are. Maybe they want to be a firefighter and their hero is their daddy. It's the spirit behind their eyes when they talk that is most important.

In today's post I'm one of those people standing on the sidelines watching and cheering and waiting for a dream to unfold for a pair who is working really hard. You see, I know these people. Don't believe me? Exhibit A taken by yours truly in my grandma's garage as they were passing through town. It's true. Their futures are so bright that they have to wear shades. One of them I've known since that morning in late March when I was confronted with the reality that the baby girl cousin I was hoping so badly for was well...a baby boy cousin. Ahh, the tribulations of an 8 year old. Individually they are Justin and Sarah. Together they are Common Thread. They've got some pretty exciting things going on in addition to midterms and final exams in Music City USA. [Does anyone even call Nashville that anymore? Will I ever have a shot as their publicist if I'm not down with the proper lingo?] What's more exciting than cramming for an exam and enjoying the freedom that accompanies the life of a college student? How about sets at The Bluebird Cafe (and other places!)? Or time spent writing and recording and filming? Filming? Yes, filming. Take a look.

You saw them here first folks. Now get out there and start living your own dream. You don't have to be a household name to be somebody big who has accomplished something good. Just ask Keith McVey.