tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80004423176606326432024-03-05T05:34:00.958-08:00Big Whoop!Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-33983224279307746992010-03-03T13:35:00.000-08:002010-03-03T13:47:53.509-08:00The Trouble With Starting OverIn Portland, during the summers when I wasn’t working (but still getting paid, which is infinitely better than not), I spent a lot of time hanging out with my girlfriends. We’d get coffee, see a movie, go to a happy hour, or shop.<br /><br />The one thing that has kept me from going completely nuts moving to a new town is that I do have a few old friends in the area, good friends from college and high school. I’m not working, Matt works from home, and we haven’t found a church, so if it weren’t for the relationships I already had, then I’d be one lonely girl. Poor lonely Nicole.<br /><br />The other day, Matt and I went to lunch together. This cute girl sat across from us, and I mentioned our friend Dave should ask her out. (Never mind the fact that we no longer live in the same town; it’s just an old habit, I suppose.) Then I said that I wanted to be friends with her for several reasons.<br /><br />1) We were both eating at a vegan restaurant, so maybe we have similar food habits.<br />2) She had bangs. There is something about bangs on a person that makes me automatically like them. It’s like we could sit around and dream about the 60s together.<br />3) I wanted to wear her clothes, which means she would be a good shopping friend.<br /><br />I jokingly told Matt I wanted to ask her to hang out, and he laughed loudly and said NO. But seriously, how awkward would it be if I went up to her and asked to hang out? <span style="font-style: italic;">So awkward.</span><br /><br />It’s tough making new friends. Therefore, if you are a friend of mine, please just relocate yourself to my neighborhood. It’s quite cute.<br />----------<br />In other news, I found a piece of diced onion in my clean laundry last night. How’s that for living the domestic life?Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-41379453431830966002010-02-23T22:55:00.000-08:002010-02-23T23:41:31.625-08:00Oh, hello there.I pumped my gas for the first time in nearly five years a couple weeks ago. I looked clumsy and stupid, too. No one was at the 7-11, so I sat in my car for a few seconds before I remembered I'm not in Oregon anymore and I had to fill up the tank myself. I got out, fumbled with the cap, and thought that I really wouldn't mind paying an extra 20 cents a gallon for someone else to do this.<br /><br />We've moved and settled now, in a new town, a new state, a new climate. I actually really love our new house, the one we're renting, that’s just a few blocks from a good friend from high school. But I also really miss our old house, the one we owned, the one that Matt remodeled the bathroom, the one with the roses I cared for, the one where friends would drop by to drink wine, play games, and laugh.<br /><br />There is so much about this city that is unfamiliar to me. I look at every corner with a bit of skepticism, a bit of curiosity, a bit of wonder. What will I come to love in this new place? When will I start to feel comfortable? When does this new life start to feel like real life? It's this idea of home that I can't stop thinking about.<br /><br />When you move, when you uproot your life with a lot of hope and not much else, everything feels uneasy at first. Home is no longer the place on 132<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">nd</span>. New Seasons is no longer our local grocery store. The book on Portland happy hours that we kept in our car is now useless to us. But because of all these silly things, I’m reminded what home actually is.<br /><br />I appreciate the friends who say <span style="font-style: italic;">why don't you just move back</span>, and the families that say <span style="font-style: italic;">we're so glad you're near</span>. But what I'm most grateful for are those moments in bed, when the lights are off and Matt's softly snoring, and <span style="font-style: italic;">the setting is so vague that I could be anywhere.</span> In that moment, lying next to my husband, I feel such comfort because I know that I'm home; that we are each other's home, wherever we might be.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-40426214437920512612009-11-03T19:16:00.000-08:002009-11-03T20:50:25.326-08:00November!!!I feel like it's been a bit too serious around here lately, that's why. <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Current book(s): </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">All the King's Men</span> by Robert Penn Warren - This was one of Matt's favorite books this summer, so it's only fair I read it. So far, so good.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">An Alter in the World</span> by Barbara Brown Taylor - My women's bible study book, and it's awesome. Not cheesy. Awesome.<br />And I'm not reading it yet, but I will be soon because I've made it my new tradition to reread it every Fall... <span style="font-style: italic;">Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close</span> by Jonathan <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Safran</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Foer</span>, who I get to see tomorrow night at Powell's. YES!<br /><br />I think I could write about books all the live long day. Suddenly, I have a really strong urge to teach an English class right now. Sigh.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Playlist</span>:<br /></span>I've been listening a lot to my mix of late 60s/early 70s music labeled <span style="font-style: italic;">Let's Start a Revolution.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current Shame-Inducing Guilty Pleasure:<br /></span>Okay, this isn't current, but it dawned on me the other night how some habits are just hard to break: I still watch a <span style="font-style: italic;">Friends</span> episode every night before I go to sleep. In high school, I did it with a bowl of blue bell, so I guess I've changed a little bit. Not by choice, though.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current Color:<br /></span></span>My red winter coat is back out. It's actually my favorite thing about winter.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current Drink:<br /></span>I've been doing a lot of black tea lately. It's cold again, and as much as I enjoy coffee, it consistently gives me a headache after every cup. So, I've resorted to tea.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current Food:</span><br />The farmer's market has ended. You have no idea what this does to our household every winter. We were out of town this weekend, so we missed the last one, and now we don't have any produce. I realized this this morning as I was trying to figure out our meals for the next week. When I went to the grocery store today, all I bought was cheese. I'm going to need to step it up tomorrow or else we might die.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current Favorite Show: </span><br />Hands down, <span style="font-style: italic;">Modern Family</span>. OH MY HELL, so funny. Please watch it so it doesn't get canceled. ABC, Wednesday nights, 9/8 central. Matt and I cry laughing every single week. SO worth the time.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Wishlist</span>: </span><br />Dark, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">chocolately</span> brown hair.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current Needs:</span><br />Just give me today what I need for today.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current Triumphs:</span><br />Having a perfectly cleaned house for two months now. Want your house to always be shiny and spotless? Put it on the market.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current Bane(s) of My Existence: </span><br />The Jay Leno Show. I can't even fully describe how infuriated I get every single time I see him on prime time <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">tv</span>. I think I've even alarmed Matt with my irrational frustration. But he's NEVER BEEN funny. And he's NEVER GOING AWAY.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current Celebrity Crush:<br /></span>I honestly think I'm crush-free for the time being.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Current Blessing:<br /></span>Matt and I were in the car the other day, and it was quiet and I was thinking. I suddenly burst out, "Praise Jesus for Crown Financial Ministries." I don't normally say things like <span style="font-style: italic;">praise Jesus</span>, but I meant it. We took their class two years ago, and it was life-changing for us. Had we not taken it and gotten our finances together, we'd be shit out of luck right now. So PRAISE JESUS.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current Outfit:</span><br />For my day-to-day... Black puffy vest and my rain boots. It's that time of year!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current Excitement:</span><br />I'm seriously excited to see Jonathan <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Safran</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Foer</span> tomorrow night. I hope I get a good seat... or a good place to stand.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current Mood:</span><br />So ready to be done with this thing.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current Link:</span><br /><a href="http://indiefixx.com/2009/02/12/feed-your-soul-the-free-art-project/">Feed Your Soul: Free Art. </a><br /><br />THE END.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-26555545676433802942009-10-26T17:53:00.000-07:002009-10-26T18:08:28.858-07:00What I Would've SaidFour Weeks Ago: We're moving to Austin, Texas as soon as we sell our home.<br /><br />Three Weeks Ago: We're moving to Fort Worth, Texas as soon as we sell our home.<br /><br />Two Weeks Ago: We're moving to Fort Worth, Texas Thanksgiving weekend, as soon as we close on our home.<br /><br />One Week Ago: I have no idea what the hell is happening anymore.<br /><br />Today: <span style="font-style: italic;">Lord, give us today our daily bread.<br /><br /></span>I've been thinking a lot about that prayer the past few weeks. I've said it angrily, helplessly, and hopefully.<br /><br />Today, I feel peace, and I honestly haven't been able to claim peace in a good while. I've hit my point of weariness. I'm worn out from trying to control what I can't, so today, I sincerely mean Lord, give me TODAY what I need for TODAY. Tomorrow, I'll pray it again.<br /><br />And all the while I'll enjoy a little bit of peace that comes when you trust, obey, and believe.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-34138130577915396122009-10-14T20:47:00.000-07:002009-10-15T00:11:16.831-07:00I Guess I'm Also Wearing Heavy BootsThis morning it was rainy and gray. Yesterday our grass was green. Today, it is dotted with yellow leaves dropped by the wind. Portland has put on its rain boots, and I imagine they'll stay put for a long while.<br /><br />This morning before I left my house, I put on my rain boots. I grabbed my rain coat. I stood at the back door as I let the dog run out and run back in. I followed behind her in the kitchen, wiping up her paw tracks with a kitchen towel. The rain doesn't bother me today. Today, it reminds me I know what to do. These fall days are so familiar to me. With so many things changing, familiarity can be so comforting.<br /><br />After four years, I'm getting ready to take off my polka-dot rain boots and hang up my simple rain coat, the one I also wore in Northern Ireland. I'm about to say good-bye to dear friends, pass on the keys to our first home, and leave a church I love. I'm scared, excited, heartbroken, and hopeful.<br /><br />So in all the chaos and change right now, it's good to know I can at least count on the rain.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-76878852968719920152009-10-04T21:25:00.000-07:002009-10-04T21:37:06.065-07:00Trying to Find the HumorFriday was supposed to be a good day.<br /><br />I woke up and got ready, took Matt to the train, went to my yoga class, and planned on starting my errands.<br /><br />I went to Target first. I only had to get two things for Sunday school: flashlights and marbles. As I walked in, I of course started browsing the clothes. I found a really cute summer dress on clearance and, as I stood there debating its relevance to my closet, my phone rang. I threw the dress in my cart and answered the phone while moving on to get the two things on my list.<br /><br />The phone call gave me bad news. Shocking, unexpected news. News that I might just look back on in a few years and laugh at how I handled it, but for that moment? It was BAD. It still feels bad.<br /><br />I LOST IT. I found a corner near the maternity clothes (no connection to this story, by the way) and cried over the phone. I hung up, stood there for a moment, and thought <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ok</span>, you can do this. Just two items to get. </span>I made it to the toys department and started looking for marbles, all the while crying. I thought I’d gained control of my emotions, but then I started doing that hiccup thing, and snot was running, and I’m sure mascara was around the perimeter of my face. I know I should have immediately left the store, but I kept telling myself <span style="font-style: italic;">two items! You can do it! Buck up, bitch! </span><br /><br />Only I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">couldn</span>’t find the marbles. I started to look for someone to ask for help but stopped about half-way down the aisle. I was in no condition to talk to anyone, let alone ask someone for MARBLES.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Excuse me, I’m looking for marbles.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Why, yes. You clearly look like you have LOST THEM.” </span><br /><br />At that realization, I did what was best for everyone and left the store, marble-less. Seriously, could I have been looking for anything more appropriate??<br /><br />(And if you’re concerned about the bad news, thanks. Pray for peace. Lots and lots of it. We’re okay with some Jesus and some peace.)<br /><br />(Also, on Saturday I found some marbles at the dollar store.)Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-83929483414031117372009-09-14T12:01:00.000-07:002009-09-14T12:08:19.977-07:00Lessons in PrayerThe beautiful thing that happens when I teach preschoolers is that they end up teaching me. A few months back, I was in the preschool room, which is really a section of a basketball gym, making my teacher rounds by playing trains, drawing flowers, putting a baby doll to sleep. I walked over to the reading corner where two of my favorite girls were sitting. The first girl, Pam, said she didn’t feel well. I thought to myself she probably just wanted her mom, but before I could say anything Bellie jumped in first.<br /><br />“Pammy, can I pray for you?” And after Pam said yes, Bellie scrunched her eyes shut, rested her hands palms up on her knees, and asked Jesus to help Pam feel better. <br /><br />And of course, I started crying. I don’t remember the last time I was humbled so fast. <br /><br />When was the last time my first response to an ache, a problem, a need was to pray? Has it ever been? <br /><br />So in the midst of all my unknowns right now, I think of gorgeous Bellie. Her reaction to a friend wasn’t to worry or to feel apathetic or to even be afraid. It was to pray. I want to pray. Just like a little girl with big faith.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-38400283440770639812009-08-02T18:41:00.000-07:002009-08-02T18:50:23.988-07:00What Do You Mean It's Just Fiction? or On Losing a Mentor(Talking about Harry Potter. Yes, there's a spoiler, but it's been four years, read the book already!)<br /><br />During my internship four years ago, one of the classes I taught was a senior AP Lit class that only had fifteen students. It was the kind of class I always dreamed about teaching one day, and I secretly felt sad whenever the bell rang. That spring I had just finished reading the Harry Potter series for the first time, and the sixth book was about to come out that summer. My AP Lit class, made up of supremely awesome, nerdy book-lovers, would discuss all things Harry Potter during the last five minutes of class each day. We shared theories, favorite moments, and predictions. At some point that semester, I commented that I wanted to one day be a teacher just like Dumbledore: wise, compassionate, and loved.<br /><br />The last day of my internship also happened to be my 22nd birthday. The students came in with goofy grins and whispers. I walked over to the desks to see what was going on, and they all shouted out, “Happy birthday!” I looked down to see a big cookie cake with the words <span style="font-style: italic;">Happy Birthday Professor Dumbledore</span>! written in thick, gooey icing. Truly, my fellow Harry Potter fans, my bright and kind students, had given me one of the best compliments of my lifetime. I only wish I would have had a camera to capture it.<br /><br />When the sixth book came out, I was a newly-wed and we were about to move across the country. I finished the book one afternoon while Matt was at work. When he came home, he found me curled up in our bed sobbing. We should all know the horrific event that led me to totally lose my shit and go into mourning. (Okay fine, for those of you that didn’t read the series, <span style="font-style: italic;">sigh</span>: Dumbledore dies.) Matt reacted as any new husband might: utterly and totally freaked out. I don’t quite remember how he handled the situation, but my guess is that it probably involved Chili’s.<br /><br />So the reason why it took us two weeks to see the sixth Harry Potter should not be surprising. While everyone else seemed excited, I felt nervous and apprehensive. We finally went and saw it this weekend. And once again, HOLY HELL, LOST MY SHIT ALL OVER THE PLACE, BIG TIME, CRAZY GIRL COMING THROUGH. It was bad enough to read it, but to see it on screen? Unbearable heartache. And unfortunately for me, the movie theater was on the fourth floor of the mall, which made it especially awkward to walk through with my mascara-streaked face and swollen eyes.<br /><br />So here’s my review for the movie: yes, it was good, but don’t <span style="font-style: italic;">ever</span> make me watch it again.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-53014524216554490172009-07-20T14:59:00.000-07:002009-07-20T15:12:26.560-07:00Well, Hm.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu35_HuPvY7b5h90a194ieyL2ZuBmX-Iey_c3xod9sBddWPCbnBFrMiYe_HjWbL8Hlji2AYX6D_jyi-h7WCnQ78c9z-u2ZCjhywxfsGfeFWwpUnCuJdGFgttH0ec2xY9EscCqrOYTtF9mN/s1600-h/Picture+3.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 398px; height: 81px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu35_HuPvY7b5h90a194ieyL2ZuBmX-Iey_c3xod9sBddWPCbnBFrMiYe_HjWbL8Hlji2AYX6D_jyi-h7WCnQ78c9z-u2ZCjhywxfsGfeFWwpUnCuJdGFgttH0ec2xY9EscCqrOYTtF9mN/s320/Picture+3.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360665664932685282" border="0" /></a><br />There's something very odd about being congratulated for filing unemployment. Here's how I interpret it:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Congratulations! You're only 26 and you've been laid off!!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Congratulations! You've got lots of school debt for a degree that can't get you a job!!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Congratulations! You're back at square one!!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Congratulations! If it wasn't for your husband, you'd either be living with your parents or in a gutter with feces on your face!!</span><br /><br />Clearly, this calls for a celebration. I'm going straight to my backyard with a bottle of wine and a good <a href="http://www.powells.com/biblio/62-9780670033041-0">book</a>. Come on over!Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-42917628664283614922009-07-15T10:01:00.000-07:002009-07-15T10:50:35.518-07:00All Because of the Kitchen BlindsLast week, I was cleaning the kitchen and quite suddenly I became totally disgusted with our blinds. I spent a good portion of my afternoon attempting to clean them, but FAIL.<br /><br />So of course, OF COURSE, I couldn't stop thinking about them. Seriously, who knew I could become nauseous over blinds? We had a gift card to Ikea, so we went to get some nice, new blinds (<span style="font-style: italic;">Am I really writing about blinds? </span>God help me.) Only, Ikea didn't have what we wanted for the kitchen, but they did have some nice curtains for the dining area! And we should go ahead and replace those blinds, too! I'm sure they're nasty!<br /><br />We came for blinds, but we left with three different types of curtains to choose from, a salad spinner, and a floor mat (spending only $20 of our own!). Matt put up the new curtains, and while we loved them, it suddenly threw off our decor in the living area. <span style="font-style: italic;">Those</span> curtains were too green now. But how convenient! We had also purchased some light green curtains that we were going to take back, but why not use them!<br /><br />So Matt then replaced our living room curtains. Only, those blinds started to disgust us, too. An hour later and we had new wood blinds from Home Depot. We had planned on doing this some day; we just didn't realize it would be THAT day.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6Km_ag1MG5YEPkzEPoTdTFjRT8p5e-vi1gGUPh9O_6kXO-RB_hoJEaCfadB7w_USRGlelZID2a3y7bkYHq5TK12tP2cj1AaHeZ5SzKggL0vx1VonSfrcH9RW4JgdpE0xsLbcD3_OW3M1/s1600-h/DSC04541.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6Km_ag1MG5YEPkzEPoTdTFjRT8p5e-vi1gGUPh9O_6kXO-RB_hoJEaCfadB7w_USRGlelZID2a3y7bkYHq5TK12tP2cj1AaHeZ5SzKggL0vx1VonSfrcH9RW4JgdpE0xsLbcD3_OW3M1/s320/DSC04541.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358738832611944738" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZFa-1lCxQ2q9-GhjT7CswyXJ4YiPlDkNK3FDzbUmZCVgg7iVJWL3Q8DbNMeVAiSWPe05a8bw3WUaQNIReJcYW4xFhkBUxpuDvtXKYx6lheBnEUOgProZZ390qLlPPgZLmygszh56dyHhv/s1600-h/DSC04535.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 347px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZFa-1lCxQ2q9-GhjT7CswyXJ4YiPlDkNK3FDzbUmZCVgg7iVJWL3Q8DbNMeVAiSWPe05a8bw3WUaQNIReJcYW4xFhkBUxpuDvtXKYx6lheBnEUOgProZZ390qLlPPgZLmygszh56dyHhv/s320/DSC04535.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358738143615621042" border="0" /></a><br />We had these bright green square tile things from West Elm that hung on the wall connecting the dining area to the living area. The pattern on them, though, looked terrible next to the new dining curtains. We took them down and stared at the huge empty wall space. It needed something. Two days later, and we found three large shutter doors to rest against the wall. Reused from <a href="http://www.rebuildingcenter.org/">The Rebuilding Center</a>, they were only $25 (compared to $<a href="http://www.potterybarn.com/products/p12563/index.cfm?pkey=xsrd0m1%7C20%7C%7C%7C0%7C%7C%7C%7C%7C%7C%7Cshutters&cm%5Fsrc=SCH">200</a> at Pottery Barn).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHPV5b8gjZ291cXkWdgfXsu0AyUza6F-W7-hs4pfgs_tWqqwXNWUTxB0aSIeVuHIw1WXyd2_gd1uIraOX0MBRRubV7PK8BGqJx_a-zNCQSeytu7yYrV7oJ7CxBt0HYmc0unQGYqYyhxTFx/s1600-h/DSC04540.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHPV5b8gjZ291cXkWdgfXsu0AyUza6F-W7-hs4pfgs_tWqqwXNWUTxB0aSIeVuHIw1WXyd2_gd1uIraOX0MBRRubV7PK8BGqJx_a-zNCQSeytu7yYrV7oJ7CxBt0HYmc0unQGYqYyhxTFx/s320/DSC04540.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358740619975622034" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GiCO4Q25it6IGilHTicbB8SLNvJKWu1acY23gYvcHT8OCg-ix0oPk368vbs0JLM-lA6S4lYLHXXvLRSos4zmEw2jt5ckeZyKvbQTqaECU3KaWJzsxr1M_mFWnPny94aeYUhFTRQn-SQs/s1600-h/DSC04524.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GiCO4Q25it6IGilHTicbB8SLNvJKWu1acY23gYvcHT8OCg-ix0oPk368vbs0JLM-lA6S4lYLHXXvLRSos4zmEw2jt5ckeZyKvbQTqaECU3KaWJzsxr1M_mFWnPny94aeYUhFTRQn-SQs/s320/DSC04524.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358745650177814594" border="0" /></a><br />Next home improvement project? I need to paint that armoire. I love the wood shutters, but it's too much next to the wood armoire. It was cheap, and we're not crazy about it, so next week I'm going to paint. What color do you think it should be?<br /><br />Also, the dark furniture is an espresso color, not black like the picture makes it look.<br /><br />And one more thing. Those beautiful flowers? Those are from our garden. Matt picked them, which is all sorts of special. My dad does the same thing for my mama.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-90708949080694677432009-07-09T20:53:00.000-07:002009-07-09T21:29:51.356-07:00And I Have Another Pair At Home!Today I met my sweet friend Jessica for lunch. It was kind of a last minute thing, so I scrambled around to get ready and get out the door. Because Matt is out of town, I’ve accumulated a few pairs of flip-flops next to the couch. I got dressed in my bedroom, did a once-over in the mirror, slipped on my shoes in the other room, and scooted out the door. <br /><br />I was about five minutes away from the restaurant when it dawned on me that I didn’t actually pay attention to my shoes. I thought, "now wouldn’t that be something if…" I looked to my left and saw my brown leather flip-flop with gold trim. I looked to my right and saw my black leather flip-flop with a flower on top. <br /><br />Well, DAMN. <br /><br />My pair of shoes didn't match. I’ve always wondered how the hell people do this sort of thing, and looky-here. I managed to pull it off without explanation. I ran through a list of scenarios that could have made it worse: could’ve worn my skinny jeans, could’ve worn a dress, could’ve worn a flat and a flop. Thankfully, I was wearing a pair of jeans that, if I walk carefully, I can hide most of my feet and show off just my toes. <br /><br />(Also, this is the same pair of jeans I bought with Amber, who, after putting them on and realizing they’re a bit snug, I called to ask if we bought them last year or the year before. She said last year. DOUBLE DAMN!) <br /><br />Anyway, I walked into the restaurant and slid into my chair without anyone noticing. I confessed to Jess the truth, and as she looked under the table we shared a good, long laugh. <br /><br />Honestly, I think my brain is turning to mush. I have a lot of free time on my hands; I clean, I run errands, I cook, I read… and there’s still a lot of free time. It’s not too difficult managing a two-person household. So, uh… suggestions? How can I keep my brain from sloshing out my ears? Suggest things to blog, hobbies to pick up, places to go, things to do. My brain clearly needs a kick-start. HELP.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-34193134816944062272009-04-30T20:42:00.000-07:002009-04-30T21:27:25.377-07:00Getting Things Running AgainMy blog has been quiet for some time now. I've got a lot running through my mind blahblahblah laid off blahblah, so to get all the blah off my mind, I'm going to take a cue from others. Here are things that are totally making me smile right now:<br /><br />1. Among other things, I planted broccoli two weeks ago, and it's flowering! I love seeing the progress, and I feel proud like a mama.<br /><br />2. On Thursdays, I take yoga, so Matt is in charge of dinner. My yoga instructor says it's good karma, but I think it's just having a killer husband.<br /><br />3. But since Matt is out tonight, I ate a bowl of ice cream and had a beer for dinner. It was delicious, although I do think it negates my yoga.<br /><br />4. A few days ago, we saw a man running on the sidewalk and LITERALLY stopped to smell the roses. It was amazing, and we both sat speechless and then had a good laugh. I don't ever want to forget that image, so I'm filing it away under PERFECT.<br /><br />5. I had a delightful birthday complete with tulips from the parents, an amazing dinner, a brand new bike, and a day off work. (Those sick days expire, you know!)<br /><br />6. We started reading <span style="font-style: italic;">Catcher in the Rye</span> today. Few things make me happier than to hear my kids laugh out loud at literature.<br /><br />7. In less than two months, I will get to see my little brother graduate high school, host a wedding shower for my little sister, and travel with my husband to Italy.<br /><br />8. Knowing that God cares more about who I am, instead of what I do.<br /><br />That seems like a good thing to end on, yes?Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-52676827932890274422009-03-09T21:20:00.000-07:002009-03-09T21:25:11.047-07:00Summer, Please.Yesterday, while I was making grilled cheese for lunch, I grabbed the leftover bottle of wine sitting on the shelf and took a big swig. Wine dripped from my chin, and Matt stared. It had been that kind of weekend.<br /><br />It’s been that kind of month.<br /><br />Granted, I did it to make Matt laugh. But the point is we needed to laugh badly. We’ve reached that point in Oregon where the weather is old and depressing. It’s still really cold, it’s still grey, and it’s still raining. Do you realize it snowed on my way to AND from work today? Well it did. Now, it’s just raining.<br /><br />This is the last week of the trimester, and then I get a new batch of classes. After going through painful budget cuts and barely scraping past a layoff this month (thanks Obama!), I am looking forward to the change. New kids, no more nervous, edgy teacher, and better books. I’m excited and hopeful. But I could still use some – what do you people call it? OH. SUNSHINE.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-14044168139699166392009-01-19T13:47:00.000-08:002009-01-19T13:56:32.255-08:00Monday: All Over the Place But With Exciting NewsI don’t watch a ton of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">tv</span>, but when I get into a show, I GET INTO IT. Do we even need to recap my obsession with Friends?<br /><br />Last month, Matt and I watched all the <span style="font-style: italic;">Mad Men</span> episodes. So, naturally, I started drinking scotch and wearing bright red lipstick. We talk about what the main character, Don Draper, would do in a certain situation – a much dirtier, immoral version of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ol</span>’ <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">WWJD</span> bracelets. I think of poor Betty Draper and understand why my grandma was addicted to booze back in the day. I have never hated a fictional character more than Pete Campbell.<br /><br />Matt took me out to dinner on Saturday to a new restaurant in North Portland. Usually, we’ll have wine with dinner, but you know what was the name of the first cocktail on the list? THE DON DRAPER.<br /><br />We ordered two, we drank them before dinner was served, and we agreed that <span style="font-style: italic;">yes, this is exactly what Don Draper would drink. </span><br /><br />I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ve</span> been noticing lately that I haven’t been getting carded unless I’m wearing my bright red <span style="font-style: italic;">Mad Men</span> lipstick. I guess it kind of makes me look like I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ve</span> been playing in my mama’s make-up drawer. I’m okay with that, though, because frankly I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">ve</span> been feeling kind of old. Do you know why?<br /><br />MY LITTLE SISTER IS GETTING MARRIED.<br /><br />That’s right. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Steph</span> is engaged and set to tie the knot sometime this summer. We <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">couldn</span>’t be happier for her, and I’m so very excited to gain a brother-in-law who I love to pieces. But the thought of my little sister becoming a wife? Now that just makes me feel old.<br /><br />But you have no idea how cute it is to hear <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Steph</span> giggle on the phone. During her toast at my wedding, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Steph</span> said it was the happiest day of her life… until she gets married.<br /><br />Well what do you know? That day is just six months away. OH MY.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-80009950746951955232008-12-22T08:59:00.000-08:002008-12-22T09:43:07.799-08:00The News Called It SNOWZILLA 08Well, Matt and I are currently stuck at the airport. How fun!<br /><br />No, not really.<br /><br />How we've spent this weekend:<br /><br />Saturday: Watch the entire season of <span style="font-style: italic;">Mad Men</span>. Love snow.<br /><br />Saturday night: church gets canceled, feel sad, start watching <span style="font-style: italic;">Friends</span>.<br /><br />Sunday morning: wake up to more snow, start to panic about flying out in less than 24 hours.<br /><br />Sunday afternoon: drive to the store and get chains, stop in at New Seasons for soup samples. SO GLAD to get out of house.<br /><br />Sunday night: debate when to leave for the airport to catch our 6am flight. Decide to stay the night with our friends' Peter and Jessica, who live very close to airport.<br /><br />9pm: drive 30mph across town. Worry about getting stuck in neighborhood. On 1-84 overpass. On 39th. And Sandy. And 66th. Portland is empty and feels weird and beautiful. Barely make it to the Stitcher's.<br /><br />11pm: Flight still on schedule. Go to sleep.<br /><br />4am: Flight now delayed 3 hours because the crew needs sleep. Told to go to airport anyway.<br /><br />4:30am: thankful we stayed at our friends' house. snow is coming down hard. matt has to get out at every intersection to scrape off ice.<br /><br />5am: make it to airport parking lot. AWFUL. Snow drifts are several feet high, can't drive. SUV passes, so we follow their tire marks. Park, get out, realize if our flight gets canceled, we are, HOLY HELL, stuck at the airport. Our car isn't budging.<br /><br />5:30am: check in is smooth, flight to take off at 9:15. decide to throw some extra clothes and toothbrush in my carry-on just in case. eat breakfast.<br /><br />6:30am: find a quiet gate and fall asleep. pray nobody steals our bags, MUST SHUT MY EYES JESUS, PLEASE WATCH THE BAGS.<br /><br />8:15am: alarm goes off, bags are still safe. go to gate. flight is delayed until 10am.<br /><br />9:15: flight is now delayed until noon.<br /><br />And here we wait. I told Matt it's a good thing we're so excited to see family, otherwise THIS WOULD NOT BE WORTH IT.<br /><br />But hey! Merry Christmas, y'all! And pray we fly out soon!Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-12790359401241546912008-12-16T13:18:00.000-08:002008-12-16T13:23:45.788-08:00This and ThatTwo weeks ago, I started teaching again. The past two days, though, I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ve</span> been at home enjoying some snow days. These are my first real snow days ever in the history of my entire life. I can see why kids like them.<br /><br />This trimester, I am teaching four of the same classes. Planning has been great, but by the last period, I am so tired of repeating myself. Last week we read a play that I’m not very fond of – do you know what it’s like to listen to students read aloud a play you don’t like four times in a row in a matter of hours? It’s PAINFUL. Thankfully, the play is now in the past, and we can move on to literature that I actually want to teach.<br /><br />All of my classes are quite lovely, with the exception of one, which is really due to just a handful of kids. I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ve</span> found myself thinking in class <span style="font-style: italic;">ah, this is why teachers burn out so soon</span>. I’m praying this <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">doesn</span>’t happen to me, but judging by my anxiety and the sleeping pills I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ve</span> been popping, I’m going to have to pray a bit harder.<br /><br />And that’s all I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ve</span> got from my little corner of the world. If I could give everyone a Christmas gift, it would be a warm, quiet house with a twinkling tree and snow outside with sun shining through the windows. A day like today.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-51892473195091838582008-11-20T12:14:00.000-08:002008-11-24T12:19:51.719-08:00I'm Getting Bold HereI grew up with big Christmases. There were always lots of presents to open, some big and some small. My role as the oldest child was to distribute the gifts and make sure everyone had a gift to open when it was their turn. After that, we’d eat breakfast, clean up, get ready, and head over to an aunt’s house for Christmas Round Two. Again, gifts were passed out, but because there were so many of us (often over 30) we all just opened the gifts at once. Thank-yous were shouted across the room as gifts continued to be opened. It was fun, hectic, and strange. I think the first time Matt celebrated Christmas with me, he was very overwhelmed by all the chaos.<br /><br />Here’s the truth: I could not tell you what I’ve received from an extended relative ever, relatives who I really do love deeply. It’s not that I wasn’t appreciative at the time. Sure, I wore the scarf for a season or I used the shower gel until it was gone. But the meaning of WHY we give gifts at Christmas always seems to get lost in the chaos we create.<br /><br />I want to put an end to the chaos.<br /><br />My parents are excellent gift-givers. My mom knows exactly what kind of pants I wear from The Limited, what piece I need for my nativity scene, and what earrings I like to wear. Frankly, I love Christmas morning at my parent’s house; it's by far the best part of the day. But when I think of the Christmas mornings that really meant something to me, one always comes to mind first.<br /><br />One year my parents didn’t have as much money to spend on us kids as they did in the past, something that I know was hard for them. But it wasn’t hard on my sister, brother, or me. We each received something special from my parents, something they wanted to pass down to us. My sister got my mom’s ruby ring, a ring my mom purchased for herself when she was a teenager. My brother got an autographed baseball, something my dad treasured since he was a little boy. And I got my mom’s cross, something she once wore for years. Each gift was accompanied with a letter explaining the significance of the item, and why my parents chose to give it to us. I remember all of us sitting in the living room, reading the letters. There was a quiet, peaceful spirit surrounding us. I will never forget that morning. My parents gave of themselves to us, which meant more than anything that could have been purchased.<br /><br />I’m tired of celebrating, worshiping consumerism – isn’t that what Christmas has really become? Don’t we celebrate the sales, throw ourselves into debt, run ourselves ragged and tired – for what? To buy a gift that we’ll forget we gave, to receive a gift that we don’t care about <span style="font-style: italic;">just because it’s December 25th</span>? I’m tired of celebrating consumerism in the name of Christmas.<br /><br />I want to celebrate and worship <span style="font-style: italic;">Christ</span>, my savior who was born for me, for all. A baby who entered this world to offer us grace and peace and redemption and himself. <span style="font-style: italic;">Christ gave himself to us</span>. Now what does buying my husband an ipod have to do with that?<br /><br />The first time we heard the idea of <a href="http://www.adventconspiracy.org/">Advent Conspiracy</a>, two years ago, we knew we wanted to be part of it. The truth, though, is that it was hard. Last year was a bit easier, and this year? Well, I’m pretty excited about this year. The point is each person’s response might look a bit different, and that’s okay.<br /><br />The idea behind Advent Conspiracy is that we spend less, give more, worship fully, and love all. For example, the gifts I’m giving this year will cost less but I hope they are much more meaningful. I’m giving relationally, just as Christ gave himself. The money we save will be donated to our church’s Advent offering, which will be 100% redistributed locally and globally, again, just as Christ gave himself. Throughout this, we worship Christ, not consumerism.<br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/eVqqj1v-ZBU&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/eVqqj1v-ZBU&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />What do you think? Does this approach to Christmas stir your soul? It does mine, and I know it does others. As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve always been a sucker for a good conspiracy.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">**********<br /></div><br />Interested in changing your Christmas but feel totally lost for ideas or need more information? Check out these websites:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.adventconspiracy.com/">Advent Conspiracy</a>: info, sermons, resources, etc.<br /><br /><a href="http://rethinkingchristmas.com/">Rethinking Christmas</a><a href="http://rethinkingchristmas.com/"> </a>: a place to share ideas<br /><br /><a href="http://www.readymade.com/">Ready Made Magazine</a> : more ideas<br /><a href="http://www.motherletter.blogspot.com/"><br />The Mother Letter Project</a>: a lovely idea <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> it needs YOUR help!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.water.cc/">Living Water International</a>: a water organization Advent Conspiracy teams with<br /><br />These are just a few I’ve found… feel free to pass on new ideas!Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-89971338377463816912008-11-17T12:29:00.000-08:002008-11-17T13:03:48.747-08:00Big Changes AheadI have never gotten into technology; I can work it just fine, but I don't really care about having the latest thing. I could care less what phone I talk on, what <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">tv</span> I watch, which computer I browse, or how I listen to music as long as it does what it’s supposed to do. When Matt and I got married and moved in together, he brought all the cool gadgets, and I brought a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">tv</span>/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">vcr</span> combo and a twenty dollar <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">dvd</span> player from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Wal</span>-Mart. Somehow, those things <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">didn</span>’t make it to Oregon.<br /><br />We don’t have cable, and I don’t say that to sound self-righteous. We don’t have cable because we’re lazy enough without it… bring in 100 channels, and we’d never leave the couch again. Instead, we have rabbit ears on top of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">tv</span>, which I affectionately call <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Metamorphosis">Gregor</a>; from the couch, it looks like we’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">ve</span> got our very own giant roach. It’s not exactly classy, but we hide them when guests come over. (See? JUST LIKE GREGOR.) It <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">doesn</span>’t bug me (HA!) to watch the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">tv</span>, but one fade-out and Matt is bouncing around to find the next perfect spot to pose the antenna. I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">ve</span> conditioned myself to believe that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">tv</span> is <span style="font-style: italic;">supposed</span> to have interruption.<br /><br />And that’s my approach to technology. My <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">tv</span>/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">vcr</span> combo is <span style="font-style: italic;">supposed</span> to want to keep the tape after I try and eject it. My <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">dvd</span> player is <span style="font-style: italic;">supposed</span> to be propped on its side to play. My <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">ipod</span> is <span style="font-style: italic;">supposed</span> to be thicker than a pop-tart. My hair dryer is <span style="font-style: italic;">supposed</span> to smell like fire after two minutes.<br /><br />Eventually, I always come to realize it’s time for a replacement. Last week, it was finally time to replace my cell phone.<br /><br />The battery began to only last for an hour or two, even after being charged all night. I let this go on for about a month until Matt finally convinced me it was time for a replacement. I asked Matt to just pick one out for me; I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">didn</span>’t want to deal with it, and all the options overwhelmed me. My phone and I had been together for a long time, much longer than anyone expected.<br /><br />4.5 years to be exact – one year longer than I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">ve</span> been married to Matt. The cover of the phone still says <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Cingular</span>, and the 2 and 3, Matt and my mom’s speed dial numbers, are rubbed off completely. There are scrapes and scratches all over. But up until a month ago, it worked just fine, so, even though I could have upgraded my phone twice already, I just didn't see a reason until now.<br /><br />My shiny, new phone arrived last Thursday. It took a few days for me to get used to it, but you know what? I think I love it. Did you know cell phones these days CAN TAKE PICTURES?Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-11276758922755823642008-11-12T12:55:00.000-08:002008-11-12T14:12:32.902-08:00The WeekendLast weekend, my good friend Chelsea came for a visit. She was my first college roommate, and after our first meeting we were both confident we’d need a new roommate at semester. Thankfully, our first impressions of each other were completely off.<br /><br />We’re not typical friends. We are both very different people, and we have very different friends, which is why I treasure our friendship so much. I have a handful of friends that I consider some of God’s very biggest gifts to me – she’s one of them.<br /><br />We’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ve</span> had a lot of visitors stay with us in Portland, and I take pride in my hosting skills. But <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Chels</span> definitely gets the award for being the easiest to please. She’s a photographer, an <span style="font-style: italic;">amazing</span> photographer, and what she wanted to do most was take pictures. So we took her to one of our favorite wineries, and we took her to the park downtown, and then she asked to go to an old warehouse. So we did. And if I do say so myself, she got some mighty fine pictures along the way. You can check some of them out <a href="http://chelseahudson.wordpress.com/">HERE</a>. Don't be confused: they're not our engagement pictures; they're our 3.5 years of marriage, Portland life pictures. Doesn't everybody take those?<br /><br />So if you live in Phoenix, it’s time you hire <a href="http://www.chelseahudson.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Chels</span></a> to take some pictures. And if you don’t live in the area, it’s time you fly <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Chels</span> to your home. She is an <span style="font-style: italic;">excellent</span> guest.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-13853662076127954982008-11-06T11:43:00.000-08:002008-11-06T15:21:26.582-08:00Whether You Consider it a Win or Loss, At Least it's OVERThere are two reasons why I love living in Oregon during an election. First, we only do mail-in ballots. I spent one evening researching our state’s measures and candidates and voted on what I believed ALL FROM THE COMFORT OF MY COUCH. And then! I just put it in my mailbox! Some have said this leads to conspiracy (I'm usually all for a good conspiracy, but I've chosen to sit this one out.), and some say it’s not as meaningful as standing in line and being in a booth. I don’t care; mail-in ballots are totally on my top five of favorite things ever.<br /><br />The other reason why I love elections in Oregon is because of the time difference. I don’t have to stay up late watching the news, waiting and wondering. As soon as the west coast states’ polls closed at 8pm, guess what happened? We had a new president, a president that I won't deny I voted for. Feel free to either thank or hate California, Oregon, and Washington.<br /><br />I ran into some old-coworkers yesterday who are lovely people. Outspoken people. Very political people. And <a href="http://www.theonion.com/content/video/obama_win_causes_obsessive">this video</a> made me laugh so much thinking about them.<br /><br />I just hope they don’t die.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-29548902628829164062008-11-03T19:26:00.000-08:002008-11-03T19:40:05.088-08:00Totally Worth ItCan I just brag for one minute about how awesome Matt is? <br /><br />Last week, he came home with tickets to see David Sedaris. Some of you might be rolling your eyes and thinking <a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2008/01/26/25-david-sedaris/">how white of you</a>, while others might be wondering why we would pay money to hear someone read. But it was absolutely worth it. Sitting on the back row in the sold out concert hall, Matt and I laughed the entire two hours. He read stuff written just for the tour, stuff that didn’t make it in his book, and a few articles recently published. If Mr. Sedaris is ever in your neck of the woods, GO. No, seriously. <span style="font-style: italic;">GO</span>.<br /><br />Matt also loves Sedaris, so it was a treat for him, too. But he loves the Portland Trailblazers more, and their first home game was the same night. Matt’s office has season tickets, so he gets to go just about whenever he wants. He could have gone to the Blazers’ game, but he took me to Sedaris instead. That is why he is so very awesome.<br /><br />Oh, but don’t worry. We still made it to a bar in time to catch the 4th quarter. I think they even won.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-84903421651870771852008-10-29T09:02:00.000-07:002008-10-29T09:09:36.376-07:00What Comes NextEvery other Tuesday morning, I attend a women’s bible study at church. We spend a good portion of our time in small groups, talking and praying. It has been so good for my soul to be around other women, women who love Jesus with me, who are bolder when they pray than I ever think to be, and who are flawed but honest about it.<br /><br />Mary’s youngest son is in my preschool class on Sundays. Our conversations are always brief when she drops off her son, but I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ve</span> finally gotten to know her through our morning bible study. And that woman loves Jesus and people in big ways.<br /><br />At our last bible study, Mary shared some challenges about motherhood. I shared about this waiting period I feel I’m stuck in – after getting laid off, and then not getting rehired, I’m pretty interested to figure out what’s next. When it came time to pray, Mary caught my attention as she prayed <span style="font-style: italic;">God, give Nicole a teaching job</span>. Just like that. Her words made me sit up and watch her as she just kept praying.<br /><br />I thought it was a nice gesture on her part, but it certainly took me by surprise. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">didn</span>’t ask for prayer. I thought I made it clear I was done with teaching – that I don’t even look for teaching jobs anymore. I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ve</span> finally reached some level of contentment as a substitute, and I’m getting pretty good at being a part-time housewife. So it was kind of Mary to pray for a job but not necessary.<br /><br />The next afternoon I got a phone call from my old school. A position opened up, and they wanted to interview me. I went, and my vice-principal and I had a casual conversation because he said he <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">didn</span>’t really need to interview me since, you know, I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ve</span> worked there before and all. And the next day, my old school officially offered me another job. I took it, and then I cried as I called Matt and then my mom.<br /><br />I cried because I could have never imagined this happening. I cried because I thought I had finally moved on. I cried for my tender ego, for my huge lump of pride. I cried because I had just finished <span style="font-style: italic;">Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close</span>. And the most shallow, honest reason of them all? I cried because I felt like the school’s bitch – hey, we need a teacher! Call up that one girl! She’ll always come back!<br /><br />But let me set the record straight: I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">AIN</span>’T NO <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">HOLLABACK</span> GIRL.<br /><br />Except for this one time.<br /><br />It’s now been over a week since I accepted the job, and each day I get a little bit more excited. Frankly, subbing is stupid. And I miss teaching; I miss the relationships. As much as I wanted to convince myself I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">didn</span>’t want to teach anymore, I knew that was a super big, super fat lie.<br /><br />I don’t claim to understand prayer, but I’m pretty sure I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">didn</span>’t get this job JUST because Mary prayed for me. My journal is filled with my own questions and heartaches and surrendering this WHOLE OBNOXIOUS THING. But I also believe Mary is no coincidence, either.<br /><br />What I really believe? I’m not sure. But I trust a God who knows better than I do, and, thankfully, has shown me what’s next.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-90236585492675177072008-10-14T11:34:00.000-07:002008-10-14T12:52:11.988-07:00Why Hello...<a href="http://isaacandjude.blogspot.com/">Amber</a> did this little survey thing and called me out to join her. And because she is a wise woman, I’m going to do it. Also, today is her oldest son’s 4th birthday and I love him so, so much. On one of the worst days of the year for me, sweet Isaac told me I was the best woman ever. BEST COMPLIMENT EVER EVER. So happy birthday, Ike!<br /><br />Anyhoo, I haven’t been blogging much because I haven’t felt like writing much. So here’s a list of 7 things that I would have posted earlier if I had been in the mood.<br /><br />1. The other night I was flipping through a magazine and smelled something delicious. It was a perfume sample for Armani Code. I ripped it out and handed it to Matt (hint, hint). He loved it, too, and jumped up and wiped it on my neck. I squealed out, “Stop! Stop!” and he confusedly did. I told him I needed to wear it tomorrow to test it out, and he thought this was hilarious. Is this odd behavior on my part? I never buy a perfume without test-wearing it first. Have I been wrong all these years with the perfume ads? Have I just totally admitted an embarrassing secret? Laugh all you want, I SMELL DAMN GOOD <span style="font-style: italic;">FOR FREE</span>.<br /><br />2. I think I might know where I got this idea, though. I received my first gift from a boy (I think his name was Dusty) in kindergarten. He walked up to me on the bus and said he wanted me to have it: a perfume ad sample from a magazine. <span style="font-style: italic;">Swoon</span>.<br /><br />3. And since I’ve already given you one great way to cut back costs in this tough economy, here’s another one. Now that it’s fall, I really want some new clothes. But we’ve got other expenses like plane tickets for the holidays to buy, so a shopping trip isn’t really a wise thing for me to do right now. I have bought a couple sweaters here and there, and I still like my clothes, so there’s no need for me to complain. PLUS, as a substitute, I go to different schools every day. And since I’m not a sweaty or messy person, I totally wear my outfit again the next day. Nobody knows! Except for you all, shhhh. The real reason I do this, though, is to save myself the ten minutes I spend in front of my closet tapping my chin wondering what to wear, what to wear.<br /><br />4. But back to subbing. An awful thing happened the other day. I was subbing for a middle school reading teacher, and on the board in the teacher’s handwriting was this:<br /> <span style="font-style: italic;"> The less you talk, the more your listened too. </span><br />Oh. Hell. No. It bugged me all day long, but I finally worked up the courage to fix the mistakes at the end of the day. I did it for the kids, really. But then I stayed up late thinking about how that teacher probably hates me now.<br /><br />5. I couldn’t fall asleep Sunday night, either, because I was thinking about something I might’ve done at church that morning. Every other week when I do the bills, I always write our offering check and slide it in my checkbook for church. When it’s time for the offering, I pull it out and briefly look at it to make sure everything’s correct. It’s just a little OCD thing I do. This past Sunday, though, Matt took it from me before I checked it and threw it in the basket. Immediately, I wanted to grab it out and look, but that’s not really acceptable. So I let it be. And then that night it dawned on me that I had also written a check to <a href="http://www.crazyauntkaty.blogspot.com/">Katy</a> that I hadn’t given her yet. That in the memo line I had jokingly written HOT LOVE. I panicked in bed until I finally got up to check. Thankfully, my church received the correct one. Katy, your check for HOT LOVE is in the mail.<br /><br />6. Matt and I tried to nail down our favorite beers the other day, so here’s what I’ve got. Top Five Beers in no particular order, subject to change at any time:<br /> * <a href="http://www.widmer.com/beer_brokenhalo.aspx">Broken Halo IPA</a><br /> * <a href="http://www.bridgeportbrew.com/#/our_beers/">Bridgeport Haymaker</a><br /> *<a href="http://www.fullsailbrewing.com/session.cfm">Full Sail Session</a><br /> * <a href="http://www.widmer.com/beer_hefeweizen.aspx">Widmer</a> or <a href="http://www.pyramidbrew.com/beer/beerguide/hefeweizen.php">Pyramid</a> Hefeweizen<br /> * <a href="http://www.mcmenamins.com/index.php">Mcmenamin’s</a> Hammerhead or IPA<br /><br />7. We’re going to Houston for Thanksgiving. We’re going to Arkansas for Christmas. I’m happy about these things.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-47364277516836026342008-09-25T19:52:00.000-07:002008-09-25T20:41:13.023-07:00A Few Unconnected ThoughtsWhenever Matt and I are faced with a predicament, my response is almost always "We just need to go back in time!" And Matt follows up with "I'll go get the crystals." It doesn't really help the situation, but it does make me laugh. So as Matt and I were watching the news, I realized the solution to our so-called economic disaster: GO BACK IN TIME. We could fix some things gone wrong, and then everything would be just fine. TRUST ME. I majored in English.<br /><br />And to completely change the subject, our very good friends, <a href="http://bryanandlaura.wordpress.com/">Bryan and Laura</a>, got married this weekend. They had a perfect wedding at one of our favorite <a href="http://www.davidhillwinery.com/">wineries,</a> one that we often visit together, and Matt and I got to be part of the whole thing. So special!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfe6Pn9ipl-EfhlBECLCTrdWiAmIvBwgeGnO8taHvfGoELfcAKnXH-HwEqSjYshuKP76yJUfYUIPyvRmqOwLdo22rU5L2LbKt2vNLqxzG035t49x79DxH7ZR6Siz5peivgSIgu-f06UQT0/s1600-h/DSC03709.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfe6Pn9ipl-EfhlBECLCTrdWiAmIvBwgeGnO8taHvfGoELfcAKnXH-HwEqSjYshuKP76yJUfYUIPyvRmqOwLdo22rU5L2LbKt2vNLqxzG035t49x79DxH7ZR6Siz5peivgSIgu-f06UQT0/s320/DSC03709.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250164856546708578" border="0" /></a>Matt and I in our bridesmaid/ groomsman get-up. Isn't the winery gorgeous?! Matt and I want to buy it. You know, with all that money we have.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-tN5mU1KYpB0YeEvc2QoYAQRTzgZPTzDMxPZstpn36HAXnNL_k_TZpuUCIrKAwOCALLXKrmQRFrsSShkvJbxG7Gr4ZJynmsV8KssduPGH5OnjefHJFDovlFMuQLoHMynJC4pmzJxuxxK/s1600-h/DSC03716.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-tN5mU1KYpB0YeEvc2QoYAQRTzgZPTzDMxPZstpn36HAXnNL_k_TZpuUCIrKAwOCALLXKrmQRFrsSShkvJbxG7Gr4ZJynmsV8KssduPGH5OnjefHJFDovlFMuQLoHMynJC4pmzJxuxxK/s320/DSC03716.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250165758063970178" border="0" /></a>The beautiful bride! I love these ladies!<br /><br />And here's my biggest regret from the weekend: not getting a good picture of Matt and me with Bryan and Laura. I know Laura wouldn't mind putting her dress back on (which bride wouldn't?), but unfortunately the tuxes have been returned.<br /><br />I know! I'll go back in time!Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000442317660632643.post-37121891961323081812008-09-12T09:53:00.000-07:002008-09-12T10:16:17.366-07:00Celebrating with a HurricaneToday is my mama and daddy's 27th wedding anniversary! I am so thankful for two parents who love and support me, but who also love and support each other.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO3mEWM52tDDYzcWV5IZ7ueQ7beNQtD27PPYgidHrw5liVlXQB30lRPw1U5I2VPS1jQo36KiS8YPAANDkEeBXsWNzDVb2fbsHHfMIOGz5E7lmZRItxBeM9AMrDe_3_1QBys6SpKGe6tAyN/s1600-h/m+and+d.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO3mEWM52tDDYzcWV5IZ7ueQ7beNQtD27PPYgidHrw5liVlXQB30lRPw1U5I2VPS1jQo36KiS8YPAANDkEeBXsWNzDVb2fbsHHfMIOGz5E7lmZRItxBeM9AMrDe_3_1QBys6SpKGe6tAyN/s320/m+and+d.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245180991625014018" border="0" /></a>Aren't they the cutest? They're basically my favorite parents ever, and I just wanted to let everyone know.<br /><br />P.S. Ike! Back off! It's my parent's anniversary.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17069383892998048105noreply@blogger.com3