Big Whoop!

The Trouble With Starting Over

2010-03-03T13:35:00.000-08:00

In 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.

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.

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.

1) We were both eating at a vegan restaurant, so maybe we have similar food habits.
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.
3) I wanted to wear her clothes, which means she would be a good shopping friend.

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? So awkward.

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.
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In other news, I found a piece of diced onion in my clean laundry last night. How’s that for living the domestic life?

Oh, hello there.

2010-02-23T22:55:00.000-08:00

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.

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.

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.

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 132nd. 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.

I appreciate the friends who say why don't you just move back, and the families that say we're so glad you're near. But what I'm most grateful for are those moments in bed, when the lights are off and Matt's softly snoring, and the setting is so vague that I could be anywhere. 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.

November!!!

2009-11-03T19:16:00.000-08:00

I feel like it's been a bit too serious around here lately, that's why.

Current book(s):
All the King's Men 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.
An Alter in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor - My women's bible study book, and it's awesome. Not cheesy. Awesome.
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... Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer, who I get to see tomorrow night at Powell's. YES!

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.

Current Playlist:
I've been listening a lot to my mix of late 60s/early 70s music labeled Let's Start a Revolution.

Current Shame-Inducing Guilty Pleasure:
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 Friends 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.

Current Color:
My red winter coat is back out. It's actually my favorite thing about winter.

Current Drink:
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.

Current Food:
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.

Current Favorite Show:
Hands down, Modern Family. 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.

Current Wishlist:
Dark, chocolately brown hair.

Current Needs:
Just give me today what I need for today.

Current Triumphs:
Having a perfectly cleaned house for two months now. Want your house to always be shiny and spotless? Put it on the market.

Current Bane(s) of My Existence:
The Jay Leno Show. I can't even fully describe how infuriated I get every single time I see him on prime time tv. I think I've even alarmed Matt with my irrational frustration. But he's NEVER BEEN funny. And he's NEVER GOING AWAY.

Current Celebrity Crush:
I honestly think I'm crush-free for the time being.

Current Blessing:
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 praise Jesus, 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.

Current Outfit:
For my day-to-day... Black puffy vest and my rain boots. It's that time of year!

Current Excitement:
I'm seriously excited to see Jonathan Safran Foer tomorrow night. I hope I get a good seat... or a good place to stand.

Current Mood:
So ready to be done with this thing.

Current Link:
Feed Your Soul: Free Art.

THE END.

What I Would've Said

2009-10-26T17:53:00.000-07:00

Four Weeks Ago: We're moving to Austin, Texas as soon as we sell our home.

Three Weeks Ago: We're moving to Fort Worth, Texas as soon as we sell our home.

Two Weeks Ago: We're moving to Fort Worth, Texas Thanksgiving weekend, as soon as we close on our home.

One Week Ago: I have no idea what the hell is happening anymore.

Today: Lord, give us today our daily bread.

I've been thinking a lot about that prayer the past few weeks. I've said it angrily, helplessly, and hopefully.

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.

And all the while I'll enjoy a little bit of peace that comes when you trust, obey, and believe.

I Guess I'm Also Wearing Heavy Boots

2009-10-14T20:47:00.000-07:00

This 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.

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.

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.

So in all the chaos and change right now, it's good to know I can at least count on the rain.

Trying to Find the Humor

2009-10-04T21:25:00.000-07:00

Friday was supposed to be a good day.

I woke up and got ready, took Matt to the train, went to my yoga class, and planned on starting my errands.

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.

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.

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 ok, you can do this. Just two items to get. 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 two items! You can do it! Buck up, bitch!

Only I couldn’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.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for marbles.”

“Why, yes. You clearly look like you have LOST THEM.”

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??

(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.)

(Also, on Saturday I found some marbles at the dollar store.)

Lessons in Prayer

2009-09-14T12:01:00.000-07:00

The 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.

“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.

And of course, I started crying. I don’t remember the last time I was humbled so fast.

When was the last time my first response to an ache, a problem, a need was to pray? Has it ever been?

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.

What Do You Mean It's Just Fiction? or On Losing a Mentor

2009-08-02T18:41:00.000-07:00

(Talking about Harry Potter. Yes, there's a spoiler, but it's been four years, read the book already!)

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.

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 Happy Birthday Professor Dumbledore! 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.

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, sigh: 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.

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.

So here’s my review for the movie: yes, it was good, but don’t ever make me watch it again.

Well, Hm.

2009-07-20T14:59:00.000-07:00

There's something very odd about being congratulated for filing unemployment. Here's how I interpret it:

Congratulations! You're only 26 and you've been laid off!!

Congratulations! You've got lots of school debt for a degree that can't get you a job!!

Congratulations! You're back at square one!!

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!!

Clearly, this calls for a celebration. I'm going straight to my backyard with a bottle of wine and a good book. Come on over!

All Because of the Kitchen Blinds

2009-07-15T10:01:00.000-07:00

Last 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.

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 (Am I really writing about blinds? 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!

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. Those 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!

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.

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 The Rebuilding Center, they were only $25 (compared to $200 at Pottery Barn).

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?

Also, the dark furniture is an espresso color, not black like the picture makes it look.

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.

And I Have Another Pair At Home!

2009-07-09T20:53:00.000-07:00

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.

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.

Well, DAMN.

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.

(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!)

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.

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.

Getting Things Running Again

2009-04-30T20:42:00.000-07:00

My 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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!)

6. We started reading Catcher in the Rye today. Few things make me happier than to hear my kids laugh out loud at literature.

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.

8. Knowing that God cares more about who I am, instead of what I do.

That seems like a good thing to end on, yes?

Summer, Please.

2009-03-09T21:20:00.000-07:00

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.

It’s been that kind of month.

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.

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.

Monday: All Over the Place But With Exciting News

2009-01-19T13:47:00.000-08:00

I don’t watch a ton of tv, but when I get into a show, I GET INTO IT. Do we even need to recap my obsession with Friends?

Last month, Matt and I watched all the Mad Men 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 ol’ WWJD 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.

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.

We ordered two, we drank them before dinner was served, and we agreed that yes, this is exactly what Don Draper would drink.

I’ve been noticing lately that I haven’t been getting carded unless I’m wearing my bright red Mad Men lipstick. I guess it kind of makes me look like I’ve been playing in my mama’s make-up drawer. I’m okay with that, though, because frankly I’ve been feeling kind of old. Do you know why?

MY LITTLE SISTER IS GETTING MARRIED.

That’s right. Steph is engaged and set to tie the knot sometime this summer. We couldn’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.

But you have no idea how cute it is to hear Steph giggle on the phone. During her toast at my wedding, Steph said it was the happiest day of her life… until she gets married.

Well what do you know? That day is just six months away. OH MY.

The News Called It SNOWZILLA 08

2008-12-22T08:59:00.000-08:00

Well, Matt and I are currently stuck at the airport. How fun!

No, not really.

How we've spent this weekend:

Saturday: Watch the entire season of Mad Men. Love snow.

Saturday night: church gets canceled, feel sad, start watching Friends.

Sunday morning: wake up to more snow, start to panic about flying out in less than 24 hours.

Sunday afternoon: drive to the store and get chains, stop in at New Seasons for soup samples. SO GLAD to get out of house.

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.

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.

11pm: Flight still on schedule. Go to sleep.

4am: Flight now delayed 3 hours because the crew needs sleep. Told to go to airport anyway.

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.

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.

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.

6:30am: find a quiet gate and fall asleep. pray nobody steals our bags, MUST SHUT MY EYES JESUS, PLEASE WATCH THE BAGS.

8:15am: alarm goes off, bags are still safe. go to gate. flight is delayed until 10am.

9:15: flight is now delayed until noon.

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.

But hey! Merry Christmas, y'all! And pray we fly out soon!

This and That

2008-12-16T13:18:00.000-08:00

Two weeks ago, I started teaching again. The past two days, though, I’ve 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.

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.

All of my classes are quite lovely, with the exception of one, which is really due to just a handful of kids. I’ve found myself thinking in class ah, this is why teachers burn out so soon. I’m praying this doesn’t happen to me, but judging by my anxiety and the sleeping pills I’ve been popping, I’m going to have to pray a bit harder.

And that’s all I’ve 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.

I'm Getting Bold Here

2008-11-20T12:14:00.000-08:00

I 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.

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.

I want to put an end to the chaos.

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.

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.

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 just because it’s December 25th? I’m tired of celebrating consumerism in the name of Christmas.

I want to celebrate and worship Christ, 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. Christ gave himself to us. Now what does buying my husband an ipod have to do with that?

The first time we heard the idea of Advent Conspiracy, 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.

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.

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.

**********

Interested in changing your Christmas but feel totally lost for ideas or need more information? Check out these websites:

Advent Conspiracy: info, sermons, resources, etc.

Rethinking Christmas : a place to share ideas

Ready Made Magazine : more ideas

The Mother Letter Project: a lovely idea and it needs YOUR help!

Living Water International: a water organization Advent Conspiracy teams with

These are just a few I’ve found… feel free to pass on new ideas!

Big Changes Ahead

2008-11-17T12:29:00.000-08:00

I 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 tv 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 tv/vcr combo and a twenty dollar dvd player from Wal-Mart. Somehow, those things didn’t make it to Oregon.

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 tv, which I affectionately call Gregor; from the couch, it looks like we’ve got our very own giant roach. It’s not exactly classy, but we hide them when guests come over. (See? JUST LIKE GREGOR.) It doesn’t bug me (HA!) to watch the tv, but one fade-out and Matt is bouncing around to find the next perfect spot to pose the antenna. I’ve conditioned myself to believe that tv is supposed to have interruption.

And that’s my approach to technology. My tv/vcr combo is supposed to want to keep the tape after I try and eject it. My dvd player is supposed to be propped on its side to play. My ipod is supposed to be thicker than a pop-tart. My hair dryer is supposed to smell like fire after two minutes.

Eventually, I always come to realize it’s time for a replacement. Last week, it was finally time to replace my cell phone.

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 didn’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.

4.5 years to be exact – one year longer than I’ve been married to Matt. The cover of the phone still says Cingular, 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.

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?

The Weekend

2008-11-12T12:55:00.000-08:00

Last 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.

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.

We’ve had a lot of visitors stay with us in Portland, and I take pride in my hosting skills. But Chels definitely gets the award for being the easiest to please. She’s a photographer, an amazing 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 HERE. 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?

So if you live in Phoenix, it’s time you hire Chels to take some pictures. And if you don’t live in the area, it’s time you fly Chels to your home. She is an excellent guest.

Whether You Consider it a Win or Loss, At Least it's OVER

2008-11-06T11:43:00.000-08:00

There 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.

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.

I ran into some old-coworkers yesterday who are lovely people. Outspoken people. Very political people. And this video made me laugh so much thinking about them.

I just hope they don’t die.

Totally Worth It

2008-11-03T19:26:00.000-08:00

Can I just brag for one minute about how awesome Matt is?

Last week, he came home with tickets to see David Sedaris. Some of you might be rolling your eyes and thinking how white of you, 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. GO.

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.

Oh, but don’t worry. We still made it to a bar in time to catch the 4th quarter. I think they even won.

What Comes Next

2008-10-29T09:02:00.000-07:00

Every 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.

Mary’s youngest son is in my preschool class on Sundays. Our conversations are always brief when she drops off her son, but I’ve finally gotten to know her through our morning bible study. And that woman loves Jesus and people in big ways.

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 God, give Nicole a teaching job. Just like that. Her words made me sit up and watch her as she just kept praying.

I thought it was a nice gesture on her part, but it certainly took me by surprise. I didn’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’ve 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.

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 didn’t really need to interview me since, you know, I’ve 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.

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 Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. 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!

But let me set the record straight: I AIN’T NO HOLLABACK GIRL.

Except for this one time.

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 didn’t want to teach anymore, I knew that was a super big, super fat lie.

I don’t claim to understand prayer, but I’m pretty sure I didn’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.

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.

Why Hello...

2008-10-14T11:34:00.000-07:00

Amber 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!

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.

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 FOR FREE.

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. Swoon.

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.

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:
The less you talk, the more your listened too.
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.

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 Katy 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.

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:
* Broken Halo IPA
* Bridgeport Haymaker
*Full Sail Session
* Widmer or Pyramid Hefeweizen
* Mcmenamin’s Hammerhead or IPA

7. We’re going to Houston for Thanksgiving. We’re going to Arkansas for Christmas. I’m happy about these things.

A Few Unconnected Thoughts

2008-09-25T19:52:00.000-07:00

Whenever 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.

And to completely change the subject, our very good friends, Bryan and Laura, got married this weekend. They had a perfect wedding at one of our favorite wineries, one that we often visit together, and Matt and I got to be part of the whole thing. So special!

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.

The beautiful bride! I love these ladies!

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.

I know! I'll go back in time!

Celebrating with a Hurricane

2008-09-12T09:53:00.000-07:00

Today 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.

Aren't they the cutest? They're basically my favorite parents ever, and I just wanted to let everyone know.

P.S. Ike! Back off! It's my parent's anniversary.

First Day on the Job

2008-09-08T14:52:00.000-07:00

When I took a subbing job today, it said it was for a middle school Language Arts teacher. When I showed up, my schedule included 3 keyboarding classes and a PE class.

I don’t do PE.

I was wearing my Rachel Green dress with heels. Below is what my dress looked like, except it went to my knees – I’m not THAT teacher.

Most teachers are very casual, but since I look about 18 on a good day, I try to compensate by always dressing up. My motto: I’d rather be overdressed than underdressed. I think more people should make that their motto, too. Just sayin’.

So there I stood in the gym with my dress and heels taking attendance. But this was not the first time I found myself in this situation; last time it happened, I was wearing a pencil skirt and heels. I guess it stands to reason that no matter how old I get, I will NEVER feel comfortable in a PE class.

The students today were to practice throwing a football using the right techniques. Right techniques? Like don’t hit anybody in the face? That’s about as technical as my football-throwing knowledge gets. But on the lesson plan that the teacher left, she said for me to “demonstrate throwing a football for the students to see.”

OH HELL NO.

I don’t throw footballs. I CAN’T throw footballs. And doesn’t it seem a bit unfair that she would assume I could? What if I was a handless substitute? Or someone who is unable to do anything athletic? I’m good at bocce ball, and that’s about it.

So I found two boys who demonstrated for the class. And this is what I learned: opposite foot forward, fingertips on the spiral, hand near the back of the ball. Piece of cake.

And what did I add? Don’t hit me in the face.

Being Sandy

2008-09-02T10:26:00.000-07:00

Last week I had a couple of bad days dealing with life changes, unemployment, and impatience. There’s a lot of emotion running through me, and I’m trying really hard not to fall into The Funk. Matt is also trying to keep me from The Funk, and he kindly offered to do anything for me. So last night we watched Grease together.

Now, if I do say so myself, I have pretty good taste in movies. I know Grease isn’t exactly a movie you add to your list of favorites on Facebook, but it’s my weak spot. I can’t help it, the awful lines and the cheesy songs and the silly dance moves get to me every single time.

We watched the movie, and I sang along the whole time. My favorite part is the moment Sandy appears at the carnival and says, “Tell me about it, stud” in that breathy voice she uses. As soon as she says that, my heart gets all jittery and I’m suddenly overcome with the idea that I too want to be an actress, need to be an actress. Strangely, it only happens when I watch Grease.

I turned to Matt and said, “The little girl in me is about to run and make some very important phone calls.”

“What??”

“To find an agent.”

When I was around nine or ten, I used to sneak into my dad’s office after watching Grease and make a few phone calls on his business line, as if that made the whole thing more serious. The big yellow phone book was open to A, and with my heart racing, I’d pick a few that sounded promising and start dialing. I didn’t quite know how to go about all this, but I knew that I had to become an actress ASAP. After someone picked up, I always started out with “I’d like to be an actress.”

“Okay, why don’t you send us your headshot?”

“Great! Where do I get those?”

“Well, we can refer a few places for you.”

“Okay, and about how much does that cost?”

“On average, around $1,000.”

This is when I would abruptly hang up. I did this four different times, until I finally decided I didn’t care to be an actress; I just wanted big hair, black spandex, red heals, and some sass - I wanted to be Sandy.

Coincidentally, my babysitter gave me a few hand-me-down unitards from jazzercise, and I would push the sleeves down and walk around the house in my mom’s shoes. It satisfied the craving to be an actress. Last night, though, when Sandy walked out all I could think was WHERE’S MY UNITARD, I NEED IT NOW.

AND OH YEAH, CURL MY HAIR MATT. YOU SAID YOU’D DO ANYTHING FOR ME.

I Don't Really Do This Sort of Thing

2008-08-21T21:51:00.000-07:00

If there’s one thing I absolutely CANNOT stand to discuss it’s that thing you do in the bathroom that requires more than one wipe. But I’m going to challenge myself to talk about it. (Oh GOD. What if I’m the only one that requires more than one wipe and I just totally embarrassed myself?) (Just got off the phone with Matt to confirm he also uses more than one wipe. In fact, he said that if you don’t then you’re DIRTY. So there.)

My dog Taylor and I have had a really rough week. Here’s the thing: I’m not an animal person. And I know that’s not a good thing to admit. I love my dog, but I don’t really feel affection toward other animals. It’s just not who I am. It’s the same as all those parents who say they’re not kid people, but they mostly like their own kids. I get it. But this week, Taylor and I had a major meltdown, and I really wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to look her in the face again.

She ate her own poop.

Last Thursday, Matt and I were sitting on the back porch, drinking wine, and playing cards. Taylor was outside with us. Everything was normal; it could have been any other night of the week, and we would have been doing the exact same thing.

“I think Skip-Bo is a good name for a kid.”

“It’s your turn, Nic.”

“Think about it… go to your room, Skip-Bo!”

“What’s Taylor eating?”

“Probably an apple.”

Matt got up to check on her while I sipped my wine.

“It’s poop! She was eating her poop!”

“SHIT.”

After reprimanding her, we continued our game. But we couldn’t concentrate; I mean, she kept breathing and coming near us like everything was cool. AND IT SO WAS NOT. I kept wondering where we went wrong. The past few days I had been moody (some might call it PMS), and I know I took it out on Taylor. Was this her attempt to get back at me? You know, 9 times out of 10 Matt is the one who gets the brunt of my moodiness, and he’s never eaten his own poop, TAYLOR. That would be grounds for separate beds. FOREVER.

We quickly wrapped up the game and I went inside to consult with Google while Matt gave Taylor a bath and brushed her teeth. Turns out most dogs eat their poop at some point or another, and it’s usually not a big deal unless it becomes habitual, which it hasn’t.

But this doesn’t mean I still wasn’t thoroughly disgusted by her. I gave her the cold shoulder for two solid days. As I was putting away the recycling one evening, Taylor came and sat by me at a distance. She looked sad, lonely, and apologetic. And then I felt terrible. I hugged her, apologized, and gave her a treat. Because, after all, everyone makes mistakes. Some just make you want to vomit – A LOT.

Friday Candy

2008-08-15T09:04:00.000-07:00

My girl Amber is a poet. It's one reason why we're such close friends -- we both just love words. She was an English major also, and don't you know that all English majors have a bizarre, unexplainable bond to each other? It's the words, man. They build a chain connecting us all.

Ask any artist to call herself an artist, and she immediately tries to change the subject. But that's what friends are for; while Amber is trying to change the subject right now, I'm letting everyone know that she's an incredibly gifted poet. And you can check out one of her poems HERE.

A Stone to Remember

2008-08-08T12:51:00.000-07:00

As a high school teacher, I dealt with a lot of teenagers who felt they were better than most and thus deserved more. I heard things like, "I like to park in two spots so cars are further away from my Audi," and "I showed up to class every day... why didn't I get an A?" All teachers have moments when they wouldn't mind slapping a kid around a bit because, really, who do they think they are?

When I started to notice that attitude in my students, I started to notice it elsewhere. Adults deal with it, too. (What?! SHOCKING.) We deserve more money, we deserve a bigger house, we deserve to have a day off, we deserve recognition. And while some of that might be true, is it right for us to demand it?

This has been a summer of lessons in entitlement for me. I started the summer by consistently saying, "This should happen to me because I deserve it." And, dammit, I meant it. But after a few weeks of carrying around that attitude, I began to really annoy myself. Because how does that attitude fit in with my faith? The gospel I read doesn't have Jesus telling others he deserves to have his feet washed because he's awesome. Jesus actually washes others feet because he's humble.

There is no room for compassion or gratefulness with an attitude of entitlement. Every time I find myself beginning to think I deserve something, which, let's face it - is often, I have to remind myself that there is no goodness that comes from such an attitude. And I think we'd all be better off with a bit more compassion and gratefulness.

A Twenty Dollar Misunderstanding

2008-07-23T18:31:00.001-07:00

Matt's out of town right now, and I'm leaving town tomorrow, but he's coming back in a few days, so I did what any good wife would do: stocked up on frozen foods. While I was driving to the store, Matt called. I told him what I was doing, and he asked if I'd pick up some wine for him, just one or two. I thought this was a bit odd because Matt is much more likely to have a beer or a gin and tonic rather than a glass of wine while he's home alone. In fact, the image of Matt sitting at home alone watching tv with a bottle of wine is really making me grin right now.

I pulled into Trader Joe's, picked out two bottles of wine, grabbed some burritos and pizza, and went on with my day. When Matt called later, I mentioned that I got him his wine.

"Why did you buy me wine?"

"Well, you asked for it. Really, Matt, start remembering things!"

"No... I asked for limes, one or two."

"Oh. ... ... well, limes sure would have been cheaper for me to buy."

See? I knew he'd rather have a gin and tonic.

On Sucky Things and Awesome People

2008-07-21T11:29:00.000-07:00

Before we left for Arkansas, I had hoped to have an interview scheduled with a school to get rehired for this fall. Naturally, they scheduled the interviews while I was away. And of course I found this out during our layover the day we left Portland. (This is the point in which I give a bewildered look up to God and foolishly question his timing.) My options were to fly home five days early or have a phone interview. If I flew home early, I would miss visiting the Haines completely. If I had a phone interview, I felt my chances of getting the job would drop significantly.

I took the phone interview. I know that I want to always choose to invest in my relationships over investing in my career, status, and money (a lesson learned from my dad and Jesus). And wouldn’t this be the perfect time to say AND LOOK! I GOT THE JOB AFTER ALL! Only I didn’t.

But I can say that I don’t regret that phone interview at all. Sure, I might have gotten the job had I flown back earlier, but I’ll never know. The only thing I’d know is that I missed my sweet, sweet time with Amber and Seth and their three fantastically adorable boys. They are my soul family. When I met Seth eight years ago, he said I’d love his new wife. AND OH MY. If there were a way to bottle Amber up and keep her with me always, I would have done it a loooooooong time ago. She is one of the very best people in my life. And together, Amber and Seth are some of the greatest Jesus-loving people I’ve ever known. It is a huge treat to spend a week with them.

The day I found out I didn’t get the job could have been awful. I imagine if I were in Portland at the time, I would have simply stayed in bed eating chocolate covered pretzels until Matt got off work, in which I'd pretend I'd been productive, only the crumbs and chocolate stains would have given me away. It’s pretty impossible to stay sad with Isaac, Jude, and Ian, though. Those boys put some Jesus straight into my soul with their simple words, silly giggles, and cuddly hugs. Even the littlest people can have a big impact.

Overall, I had the best time with the Haines crew. We laughed a lot, we were honest and ourselves, we ate and drank well, we encouraged and prayed, and we lived fully. I think that’s the way Jesus wants it.

Why the Blob

2008-07-08T09:26:00.000-07:00

So the blob was for our children's ministry at church. The early childhood kids are learning about creation this summer, and the blob is the "soup of nothingness," as The Message calls it. I actually find it pretty creepy to imagine this endless abyss that was the beginning, but the kids ate it up. They just loved the blob. As we taught them the story inside the blob, they just sat in awe. And that's why it's cool to watch a little kid learn about God -- they don't get wrapped up in the questioning and doubts and fears. They just take it as it is. It's refreshing to be around.

Matt and I are leaving this afternoon for Arkansas. Now that I've been away from N-dub for nearly three years, going back has become more nostalgic. I'm over my GETMEOUTOFHERENOW phase, and now it's just really fun and special for Matt and I to go back together. The first four years of our relationship took place in Arkansas. We're excited to see family again and catch up with old friends. And I'm getting the shakes just thinking about eating Chick-fil-a. Number one combo with a coke, please.

And next week, Matt is likely going somewhere for work so I'm staying with my favorite family for a few days. Everyone should be very jealous.

The Making of Something Awesome

2008-07-02T20:48:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, Matt and I sat bored on a weeknight. Sister had left town, the weather was sunny, and we needed something meaningful to do. So we made a BLOB. Naturally. So here's how it works:

First, you'll need at least 2 black plastic sheets, found in the drop cloth section at Home Depot. We went with 3.5 mil, and I believe it was 10x20. I'm not very good with dimensions; Matt later found this out as he struggled to explain just how big the BLOB would be when combined with two sheets and then folded in half -- I still don't get it. Frankly, it gives me the same kind of headache I get when I think of the word eternity. ANYHOODLE. You'll also need duct tape, trash bags, and a box fan.

Once you've got your supplies, open up the two black sheets side by side, long wise. Tape the two together! Follow Matt's lead:

Don't be alarmed; Matt is in fact wearing shorts.

So once you've taped the two sheets together, fold it in half -- like a hot dog. Now you're going to tape all around the edges. Seal it up like a ... uh... pita pocket? HOT POCKET!

Make sure the edges are lined up together.

And then tape away on the remaining three sides. Look at that teamwork!

So now the BLOB should be like a super sturdy slip 'n slide. You'll be tempted to turn on your sprinklers, and if it's hot enough, go for it. It was a cool 65 degrees for us, so no slip 'n slide. Sadly.

Time for the fan! If you have a large enough trash bag (50 gallon... do they make those?), it should slip right over the box fan. If you're like us, you'll need to lay down three 30 gallon trash bags and tape them together. Then, wrap it around the fan like a tube and tape away. I was too excited at this point to remember pictures. Use your imagination or just give up and pretend you were trying to make a slip 'n slide all along.

Using a box cutter (I didn't tell you to get one of those; quick, grab a knife! ), cut a small opening on one of the short sides of the BLOB. Slide the trash bag tube in about 2 inches and tape it to the BLOB.

If everything's good and taped, turn the fan on and watch it blow up. Run to the opposite end of the fan and with the box cutter make a slit about 3 feet long as an entry way. Voila!

Careful, though. The BLOB can attack.

A Tribute

2008-06-23T17:03:00.000-07:00

In my kitchen, I have old cinnamon raisin bread wrapped in saran and nestled in an Avon bag that I can’t bring myself to throw away. Our precious elderly neighbor, Ms. Rowlfs, made it for us last Monday, a common gesture we’re gladly used to. But what I’m not used to is death – Ms. Rowlfs quietly passed away Tuesday evening.

When Matt and I began searching for our house, we had a list of things we wanted (at least two bedrooms, a nice backyard) and things we didn’t want (carpet). Those were items we could somewhat control in our purchase. We also knew how great it would be to have a good community of neighbors, so we earnestly prayed for neighbors we could learn and grow to love. We prayed for our future neighbors the entire time we searched for a house.

Ms. Rowlfs lived next door to our right. She was 88 years old and full of spunk. She was honest, kind, independent, and loving. There’s a worn path between our front doors from the consistent exchange of food and greetings and Taylor sniffing her porch flowers. I have fresh-picked strawberries in my refrigerator that I normally would have split with Ms. Rowlfs – she would have given them back in a pie. That’s my kind of community: a community that simply gives of each other, to each other.

It’s always funny to see how God responds and provides for our needs. It’s never quite what we imagine, is it? When Matt and I prayed for our neighbors, I fully hoped for young couples to befriend; although we have two great sets of couples as neighbors, it is Ms. Rowlfs who impacted us the most. When I thought I needed more friends, God knew I needed someone to step in and act like family. And for two years, Ms. Rowlfs did just that.

Matt and I made an effort to care for her, as we’d want others to care for our grandparents. Matt always took care of her front and backyard; I gave her flowers and fruit. We both visited with her and gladly accepted her pies and bread. But she gave us more – she taught us how to be the old-fashioned kind of neighbors, she taught us to care for the elderly around us, she showed us strength and independence, and she made us feel that we weren’t thousands of miles away from family, but merely a few steps.

Who me? Complain?

2008-06-09T16:41:00.000-07:00

I know I've been a bit on the whiny side lately. And frankly, I feel my whines have been totally justified with the crappy weather, the illness, and my pending unemployment. But, I like myself more when I feel grateful. So, taking a cue from one of my favorite people in the world, here's my list of things that make me happy. (Because I actually AM happy. )

My sister is visiting in less than one week, and she'll be here for eight full days. I am just so overcome with excitement!! I can't wait to see her again, to laugh and be totally immature with her. There is no better sister than Steph, and she's all mine for EIGHT DAYS.

I'm the 3s room leader at my church, and my love for this ministry and my kids grows each week. I'm thankful for all my little friends who make me laugh and smile and are so excited to color with me. I love the stories they share from their little lives about gardening and monsters and mom and dad. They are a breath of fresh air.

Being able to teach this past year was the most unexpected surprise. There were plenty of tough moments and plenty of tears from stress, but it was always the best job for me, and I never doubted that. I am grateful that when my seniors left, I was so sad to see them go.

And even though I'm 5 days away from unemployment, I'm hopeful. I am grateful.

!!!

2008-06-05T19:47:00.000-07:00

I'm over my HCD, so it's time to move on. I am a bit grumpy, though. It's mainly due to the weather, which was so lovely a few weeks ago but now all I can think is PORTLAND IS A BITCH. Sometimes, when I'm driving or watering my garden or walking into my school, I flip off the weather. It's the only way I know how to fight back. In a few weeks, our weather will be absolutely perfect, and I'll apologize to Portland and come running back into its arms, but MY GOD, PORTLAND, YOU ARE A BITCH!

If you really want to hear about it...

2008-05-26T18:48:00.000-07:00

Back in high school (junior year, to be exact), I struggled with HCD. So did my dear friend Scott. There could have been others, but Scott and I were each other’s support through such misery. HCD is when you so desperately want to scream into a pillow and simultaneously rid your life of all the phonies, assholes, and tools of the world, and in our case, Mayde Creek. In other words, we were overcome with the Holden Caulfield Disorder (or was it disease?).

We supported each other mainly by listening to the other person bitch about the day, the week, the month. Eventually, we realized our support was pretty unhealthy and at times hypocritical and almost always unloving. So we cured ourselves of HCD, which I think really just meant we quit whining about the people of this world to each other. That’s not to say the thoughts weren’t still there, though. It’s a tough disorder.

Nine years later, and I’m once again reading Catcher in the Rye, only this time I’m teaching it to juniors. (I’ve said this before, but my curriculum this year = awesome.) I love watching my students read. I love to see their eyes change and move and feel as they scan the pages and their minds digest what the words are saying. Frankly, I can’t imagine a better job. Anyway, our discussions have been great, and part of me wants to tell them about HCD and see if anyone feels afflicted, but the other part of me knows how rancid a disorder it can be and I certainly don’t want to pass it on. Because for me – it’s back.

Maybe it’s bad timing. I mean, my job did get cut, and I am once again looking for employment, which is never fun. So it’s probably not the best time to be reading Catcher, if my job didn’t require it. But I have to admit something: I actually left a get-together the other night partly because I was so overcome with HCD, and I think I would have combusted otherwise. I thought I had come so far, and yet reading Catcher has done something to me, despite the fact that I know Holden is quite hypocritical, terribly depressed and in an institution. I know that Holden is not healthy, and I shouldn’t let him influence me. And as I told Matt about this, he laughed and asked how much longer until the book is back on the shelf.

Soon. I love that damn book, but my time with it is about up. I’ve had about all I can take.

The Weather May Be Crappy, But We're Still Having Fun

2008-04-23T19:37:00.000-07:00

Matt and I went on some vacations and here are our pics to prove it.

Mexico!! I wish we could go down every weekend. I really don't think I'd get tired of the warm weather. Or the margaritas. And doesn't Matt look so handsome?

There's a billion reasons why I love Matt, but in the top 5 would be how darn goofy he gets around me. In fact, last time we were around my sister she asked me if Matt had gotten weirder. (YES.) We took this picture while drinking martinis because we're just all sorts of classy. And no, we were not drunk - THIS IS JUST WHO WE ARE.

So, Mexico + having a spring break = totally awesome.

Oh, but the barrel of fun didn't stop there. Last weekend, we went with some of our favorite friends to Washington wine country. 12 wineries in two days with delightful company is a perfect kind of weekend.

There were 6 of us, so we rented a van. Allison is about to beat me for singing and Matt for his erratic driving. She can be aggressive.

Here's the gang: Allison, me, Matty, Giant, Laura, and Gurley. Such a fun time, such delicious wines!

And even more fun: my parents will be here this weekend to celebrate my 25th birthday. I've asked for eye cream.

Young at Heart

2008-04-08T20:01:00.001-07:00

I've been waiting for this documentary to come out for some time now. As Matt and I were watching this video he said, "Wow, it looks like everyone's crying," completely unaware that I was sitting right next to him bawling.

At Least I'm Tan

2008-04-03T20:35:00.000-07:00

A year ago, Matt and I went on vacation. I was working at that terrible terrible job, and I desperately needed to step away for a few days and get re-energized. I was miserably unhappy, so I thought some time off would help out. The day I returned to work was one of the worst days for me, though. After I got off, I walked around downtown to Matt's office crying. And not a hide-behind-my-glasses, cover-my-face-with-my-hair kinda crying; no, the mascara was streaky, my face was splotchy, and I was sobbing. And I didn't care. (I have to admit, it helped that there were plenty of crazy folks out that day also wandering about.) I knew at that moment I had had enough. That weekend Matt and I talked it through and I had a plan to quit and find my way into teaching.

We just got back from our Spring Break vacation a week ago and get this -- I was actually really excited to get back to work. Our last night of vacation I talked about how great it felt to love my job and that I felt so thankful. And my first day back was great. I caught up with my students, we started some great books, and I wore an awesome necklace. It was a very good day.

But now that I love my job, and my career is on the right path, I should be set, right? Well, because I was hired in November, my contract is temporary. This means, unlike most other teachers, my job is over at the end of the year unless I get rehired. I'm confident my principal likes me, and I know I've done a pretty good job, so I shouldn't be worried. Yesterday, though, my principal announced that enrollment is down by 130 kids and 8 positions will need to be cut. And since I'm a temporary teacher, my job is essentially the "cleanest" to cut. Which is really an awesome feeling.

I've been reading my prayers from the summer to remind myself of God's faithfulness. I'm trying to relax, but it's much easier to panic. I should be a pro at this whole trusting God thing at this point, but right now I'm just a pain in my own ass.

Afternoon Thoughts (To Put off Grading)

2008-03-02T15:59:00.000-08:00

Lately, I've been in the mood to curl up in a corner and pray pray pray. The lazy girl in me hasn't found that corner, though, which is probably for the best since I don't clean the corners of our house very well. One of the best parts of my job is getting to know so many different types of people. I hear stories all day long that surprise me, make me laugh, make me sad, and make me want to find that corner and get to praying. Perhaps it's the fact that I chose to teach Candide, a book that satirizes optimism, but I have had my fill of brokenness over the past few weeks. The stories I have heard remind me of just how terribly broken we are and how much we hurt. Stories of dying parents, rejected gay siblings, cancer, abuse, depression, racism, poverty, suicide... I need that praying corner just to get me to the next day.

And yet, I feel grateful. I'm grateful that when someone tells me she's lost her faith, I can say then let me pray for you. I'm grateful for the reminder that we are broken. It's no coincidence that I'm reminded of our brokenness as we journey to the cross, to Easter.

The sun is out and our flowers are blooming, and I feel hope. And I know Easter is coming.

I Forgot This Thing Was For Writing

2008-02-23T17:07:00.000-08:00

Seriously. I'm on here often enough to read other blogs, but rarely does it dawn on me to actually write. And of course since I have, oh, 800 billion papers sitting next time me waiting to be graded, I suddenly found something to blog.

Actually, I've got nothing.

But, hi. 29 more days until Spring Break!! We're going down to Cabo, (how very cliche, I know) and I can't wait. Actually, I wouldn't mind first going back in time, grabbing my body from our honeymoon, and holding on to it for dear life because that body? IS GONE. Do you know how long I stared at a picture of fried chicken and gravy today? Too long to admit. Deprivation is a bitch.

Other than that, school's going well. We barely made it through Hamlet, but we're now soaring through Candide. How lucky am I to teach Candide?! I want to hug my curriculum.

So that's all. Told you, I've got nothing -- except a huge stack of mediocre papers to read.

Christmas is Coming, The Goose Is Getting Fat

2007-12-23T19:19:00.000-08:00

It's been a peaceful Advent season for Matt and me. Our church has led us to rethink Christmas, which has made this December somber, meaningful, and beautiful. We are so thankful for this. So thankful.

And on that note, a survey.

1. What kind of tree do you have?
We have a noble fir that we chopped down ourselves. (Actually, I stood there taking pictures while Matt worked. I did make sure to move the saw myself a few times just so I could say I helped. Which was hardly helpful of me.) In the past, we've always had a doug fir, which is lovely and all, but once we got out to the tree farm and compared the two... well, there's just no comparison. I'm in love with our tree right now, and I'm so sad it's almost time to recycle it.

2. What is your favorite Christmas movie?
Top 3: Home Alone 1, Elf, and Love Actually.

3. What is your favorite Christmas holiday food?
I hate how my family serves ham and only occasionally turkey. I HATE HAM. We usually have a delicious Christmas eve meal, though, like roast or soup. My mom also makes french toast Christmas morning, and my dad makes super crispy bacon, so it makes up for the ham fiasco. And as far as the sweets go, I love Snickers nutcrackers. Seriously, Snickers are infinitely better when in the shape of something. The lady at Target agrees with me.

4. Do you use wrapping paper or gift bags?
Here's where I'm torn. I love love love wrapping gifts and making them all pretty, and I also love ripping the paper off, but OH MY GOD. It creates an alarming amount of trash, and most wrapping paper cannot be recycled. I feel a little bit sick on Christmas morning picking up all the paper and filling two garbage bags. So it is better to use gift bags, but gift bags are way lame.

5. Do you have a nativity scene in your house?
Yes! And I love it! My parents got it for me last Christmas, and I was so excited to use it that I put it out on Thanksgiving. I stare at it a lot. Baby Jesus makes me happy.

6. What is your favorite Christmas song?
I feel silly that I don't have one favorite Christmas song. I love the ones that make me reflect. I have a chill Christmas mix that I have to listen to every day. Matt and I also do a fantastic duet to Baby, It's Cold Outside. And I can't hear Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas without laughing and dancing and thinking of Natalie, Katy, Amy, Mel, Mandy, and Brad.

7. What was the most memorable gift you received as a child?
One year in high school, my parents gave each of us kids something that once belonged to them. I got my mom's cross she had since high school, my sister got her ruby ring, and my brother got a baseball signed by someone cool from my dad. They each wrote us a letter explaining the significance. By far the most meaningful Christmas morning I remember.

8. What was the worst gift you ever received?
I don't remember. I usually like the gifts people buy me. I'm not picky, I suppose.

9. Most annoying thing about this time of year?
How unspiritual Christmas can feel. I read an article the other day in which an atheist said he feels completely comfortable celebrating Christmas because it has nothing to do with Jesus anymore. That bums me out.

10. Favorite thing about this time of year?
Family. My church. Jesus. You know, the good stuff.

Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope you feel peace and God.

Baby, It's a New Day

2007-12-09T21:05:00.000-08:00

Oh, hi. You know when you're trying to come up with a really great introduction to some really great news and all you really want to do is just blurt it out and have everyone toast to you and praise Jesus for some mighty fine providing skills?

I got a job! HELLS YEAH.

That's right, folks. I'm totally a high school English teacher. (I'm still so tickled to say that.) I have keys to the classrooms, a desk to call home, and 100 names to learn. Last week was my first week teaching, and it was hard and overwhelming and awesome. And I love it. This is what I get to teach: creative writing (already fantastic), literacy (very challenging), and classic world lit (surprisingly a lot of fun). I'm very thankful.

I'm creating most my curriculum, which is fun but also a ton of work. So here's my request: to all my writer friends and English majors (and anyone else, please!), any excellent creative writing ideas you remember that you'd like to pass my way? I'm trying to channel Mrs. Kirk in class, but I'm afraid she's way too good to be channeled.

Also, I must decide between Macbeth and Hamlet. Thoughts?

And finally, everyone must know how incredibly grateful I feel right now. It's a new day.

How a 6th Grader Apologizes

2007-11-19T10:13:00.000-08:00

I've been subbing now for over a month and, surprisingly, I love it. I was always so afraid to be a sub, but it's not nearly as bad as I expected and it's a great chance to sharpen my classroom management skills. Also, I'm trying to befriend every secretary at every high school so she can keep me posted on any job openings (because this district doesn't actually advertise open positions). Overall, it's a pretty great job and I am much happier than I ever was at my previous employer.

I only sub for high school and middle school, which seems like I'd have plenty of horror stories to share. Honestly, though, the students have all been pretty good, and as long as they're not loud enough for the teacher next door to come over, I'm okay. So far, I've only had to leave two negative notes for the teacher. To me, that's awesome.

Last week, I subbed for a middle school art class. Most of the classes were respectful and easy-going. But there was one class of 6th graders that was unbelievably terrible. I exhausted all levels of punishment left by the teacher and still they continued being awful human beings. By the end of the period, I hated who I was: a cold, mean bitch. I just wanted them gone. And after they left, I wrote a letter to the teacher.

This morning, I checked the mail and received a package from the middle school. I opened it and found 30 handwritten letters of apology to me. Here's some of the best:

"Ms. W always says, "Do they lock you up and make you stay absolutely silent all day long?" The answer is no, we just are apparently disrespectful of subs and teachers during this part of the day."

"I conclude that I am sorry for our bad behaviour and hope that you don't end up quit teaching because of us."

"I would like to apologize on behalf of my classmates. I know it must have been very tiring for you... p.s. I feel I was on task most of the time."

"I'm sorry for my classmates about their rude behavior. I hope that they will be more respectful next time you sub. I was sitting in the front left table. I was the one with blond hair and helped you with the class. Hopefully my classmates will apologize with respect."

"I know that I was talking a little bit and I am very sorry. It's just because I knew all that stuff on clay."

"I'm not sorry for not talking. I am sorry for all my classmates. I was on task."

Now that's awesome.

How I Spent My Fall Break

2007-11-09T09:48:00.000-08:00

Or, that week in which I decided to take off work (yes! I'm employed again!) and school.

Last week, Matt and I went down to Arkansas for a family visit. I spent all day Saturday with one of my old roommates, Mel, a lovely new mama. We took her baby, Callie, for a stroll around JBU and introduced her to the buildings and our memories. Walking through the old halls of our dorm with a baby was an interesting experience. Basically, Callie owes her life to JBU because without it Mel wouldn't have met her husband Nate and thus Callie would not have been created. Here, Callie is just bursting with gratitude:

Later, when Matt and Nate returned from the football game, Matt kindly read to Callie the book that he bought her. She really seemed to enjoy it.

Yep, that's a children's book about scabs. We found it at a book outlet, and it's translated from Japan. It says things like, "Can I eat my scabs?" and "This tastes like poop!" For all of you out there looking for that perfect Christmas gift, look no further. You're welcome.

On Monday, I went and stayed with our good friends Seth and Amber. Amber is one of my best friends, and together they're about as awesome and real as it gets. They have been a huge blessing to me over the many years we've been friends. Amber also just had her third kid, bringing the grand total to 3 boys ages 3 and under. So I thought I'd join in on the fun for a week. It was FANTASTIC.

L to R: Isaac, Ian, and Jude. Oh how I miss them crawling all over me. Seriously. When I got married, my sister said in her toast, "This is the happiest day of my life. Until I get married." And to say something similar, I love these kids the most. Until I have my own. Just look at them!

One of my favorite moments with the boys actually involved changing a dirty diaper. After his nap, Jude had one hell of a stinky mess in his pants. I wanted to be tough and not bother Amber with it, so I committed to changing it on my own. Isaac was sitting by me when I undid the diaper, and half-jokingly I said to him, "Woooo-wee, Isaac, I'm going to need some strength from the Lord for this one." And in my best southern voice, I smiled and said, "Help me, Jesus!" which Isaac continued to repeat. After it was over, Isaac and I high-fived and said, "Thank you, Jesus!" The next day, I was again changing Jude's diaper with Ike nearby. It wasn't a bad one, but Isaac ran up to me and leaned on my shoulder and said, "Did Jesus help you again?"

And that's how I spent my most awesome fall break.

Setting Theology Aside for a Second

2007-10-19T15:35:00.000-07:00

The other night Matt, Gurley, and I went to a show and saw a Christian band. I can’t say that I’m super fond of these sorts of shows, but Matt really wanted to go and I really do enjoy this band’s music. So we went, and it actually was a pretty good concert. Except for one thing: In the middle of one of the songs, the singer asked everyone to raise their hands. (I felt skeptical so I did not participate, which was a good choice on my part.) He then asked everyone to start clapping. A couple thousand people were clapping above their heads when the singer happily said, “This is what we’ll be doing in heaven forever and ever and ever and ever and ever!” And the crowd DIDN’T SEEM BOTHERED.

Damn it! I hate clapping! Oh sweet Jesus, tell me I won’t have to clap in heaven forever. I only enjoy clapping to Deep in the Heart of Texas. And that song’s only like 30 seconds long.

After the singer said that, and after I momentarily panicked, and after I remembered that singer-man doesn’t really know, I started thinking about how I would want to spend my time in heaven, assuming there’s a choice in the matter. I imagine Jesus and me floating in a pool alternating between watching Friends on a floating screen and chatting about life and literature while eating all the foods that we crave, mainly ice cream and gorgonzola fries.

But I won’t have to clap. Right??

Being Well-Dressed Should Start on Day 1

2007-10-16T12:54:00.000-07:00

All weekend long, Matt talked about how much he needed a neck pillow for his upcoming trips. By Sunday evening, he was still neck pillow-less, and MYGOD I was sick of hearing those words. I told Matt that if he would please just stop talking about it, I would go on a hunt for one on Monday.

My hunt failed. Where the hell can one obtain a stupid neck pillow?!!!

I went to Target on my search, and while I was there I thought I’d pick up some baby clothes for our friends who have had babies in the past two weeks. (Three new babies!) And next week, Matt and I will be in Arkansas and get to meet two of the babies, so naturally I want to bring gifts. But why must all baby clothes have some sort of creature sewed on? Every time I found a really cute looking pattern or color, I’d pull it off the rack to find a squirrel in the middle doing a dance or a bear waving while flying a plane. Is it just because I’m not a mom that I don’t find these sorts of things especially cute? Why does a lovely striped onesie have to be ruined with a choo-choo train? The print doesn't really bother me; I don't mind a shirt with something like ducks on the fabric nearly as much as I mind a huge duck sewed to the center of the shirt. You know, like a patch or a huge fuzzy sticker. It’s like the poor babies of the world are forced to go out of the house wearing one too many accessories. And that just doesn’t seem fair.

But good news: Matt bought himself a pillow this morning. We can all breathe a sigh of relief. Now if only I could solve the baby clothes crisis…

(Also, I want to personally apologize to Nikki and a certain Sunday School teacher. I did not realize I was frustrating you with my absence. I will work on it. And I do believe this is kind of a lame post, so I am also sorry for that. But I am afraid if I wait much longer for an exciting event to post, someone will tell Jesus and I’ll get kicked out of heaven because my Sunday School teacher filed a complaint against me. And that would make me immeasurably sad. And Nikki, please don’t send me any more hate mail and computer viruses. You used to be such a good friend.)

The Apprentice: Season Who Cares Anymore

2007-09-26T13:15:00.000-07:00

Life has been a bit hectic around the Tatum house for the past week or so. It’s like all our meetings, volunteer activities, work projects, school work, and laundry joined forces and created an epic battle over our time and energy. And oh did we come out sore losers. Quite literally.

Matt recruited me to help him out on a project for some ugly Nike boot that will soon be seen in stores near you. If you’re in the ghetto. The project has become a beast of sorts, and Matt’s office got stuck with the task of packing and shipping a million displays, which meant that Matt, Bryan & Laura (such kind friends and lovely co-workers), and I got stuck with the task of packing and shipping a million displays. This is to say that none of us can walk straight or feel our legs or feet or properly use our brains anymore. We have become a delirious group of people, pulling saws out of our purses at Chili’s, shouting to the chickens that are running around the warehouse, and truly believing that one of us is going to get fired by Trump when we have to go to the boardroom tomorrow.

We are all exhausted and sore. I am so tired that last night I woke Matt while screaming and wiggling in bed. I had a dream that there was a spider, who also happened to be an illegal immigrant from Mexico, on my neck and I couldn't’t get it off. I hate having things on my neck. As Matt woke me up, I went from screaming to laughing because I just realized what was really going on. I also had a dream that The View had a new cast: an old bald man, Joy (the red head), and a 5 year old Asian girl. It was not very good.

So today, I am tired. And I know the others are as well. But I have to admit, it has been fun watching Matt in action. He’s a pretty awesome project manager, and when we go into the boardroom tomorrow, you know who I’m going to throw under the bus? The damn chicken that crapped all over our car.

Fine. Goodbye, Summer. Whatever.

2007-09-18T14:41:00.000-07:00

So yes, summer is over. And this has put my mood into such mourning. I always feel like a little piece of me dies at the end of each summer. And I wish after that statement, someone could roll their eyes at me and say, “GAWD, you’re so dramatic.” But no one can. BECAUSE IT’S THE TRUTH. Overall, I think I’m a much better human being in the summer than any other time of year. I smile more, I’m nicer to strangers, and for the love – I’m tan.

So here’s my list of reasons Why the Summer Should Return and Give Global Warming One Redeeming Factor.

1. I prefer summer clothes. Please let me wear dresses and skirts every single day. I hate sweaters oh so much. I am a petite girl who feels swallowed and scared of sweaters. Remember on Friends when Phoebe is trying to put on a sweater but she’s really struggling to get it on? Her head gets caught and she shouts out “Monica, I’m scared!” This is exactly how I feel every time I put on a stupid sweater. Is this going to be the time I get caught and no one is around to save me?
2. I hate wet jeans. This isn’t a problem for the majority of the country, but I live in a little corner in which there’s a slight drizzle 90% of the day. Which means the ground is always wet. Which means my jeans always get wet. And oh this angers me. I end up walking on my tippy-toes while tugging my jeans up; it’s not a flattering look.
3. I’d rather pick berries than go snow-skiing. Berry picking is actually better for your health: you don’t have to feel claustrophobic in clothes, berries provide antioxidants, and it is extremely rare for someone to plow into you from behind or for you to lose your balance and plummet down the mountain.
4. I have more lazy Saturdays when it’s not summer. I sleep more, and Matt and I spend the day watching movies and eating junk food in our pajamas. Which sounds nice occasionally, but we do this EVERY SATURDAY that the sun is not out.
5. I can’t handle all the football. It’s loud and obnoxious and, frankly, it doesn’t look that hard. I could do it. So football? BIG WHOOP.
6. I’m happier when I’m warm. Nothing puts me in a bad mood faster than being cold. I can’t get comfortable, I don’t feel like talking, and I definitely don’t feel like moving around outside. This makes it difficult to go out since Portland doesn’t believe in parking lots and every restaurant you want to go to requires a 7 block walk. Thank goodness for a husband who doesn’t mind dropping me off while he circles the entire city looking for a parking spot.
7. Matt and I have a recurring fight in the winter. He says, “You can’t wear that.” I say, “Why not?” He says, “It’s 40 degrees outside and a silk strapless top won’t keep you warm.” I say, “I don’t care! I refuse to let this stupid cold weather dictate how I dress!” He rolls his eyes and walks away. Later I say, “I’m freeeeeeezing! Can I wear your jacket?” He says, “BITCH I warned you! Get your own jacket!” (So Matt is actually quite kind to me and will usually offer his jacket before I ask. But I bet that’s what he’s thinking in his head since we really do have this discussion every single time we go out. He even has nightmares about it in the summer. True story. Ask him.)
8. Our car’s leather seats are awfully uncomfortable when they are cold. And I love the idea of starting the car 5 minutes before I leave, but I feel a bit guilty letting the car run when it’s not in use. I’m torn on this.
9. It gets dark at 4:30!!! I strongly believe Oprah should not be watched in the dark. Nor should I go to work before the sun gets up and leave after it’s already down. Which is why I have given up working.
10. I fall in the winter. I like to think I’m a fairly graceful person, as in I can at least walk straight without looking like a total goon. But since living in Portland, I have fallen while crossing streets, walking into a store, and leaving my own house. I think it’s a combination of walking on my tippy-toes to avoid wet jeans and walking in heels on slippery and icy steps. And each one of my falls has left bruises on my body and rips in my clothes. So I guess I’m not that graceful.

So, fine. Summer I can’t keep you from leaving me, but know I will always welcome you back with open arms and a bbq.

3 Year Olds

2007-09-10T14:21:00.000-07:00

For a year now, I've worked with the 2 year olds at our church, but recently I moved to the 3s room. The 2s were fun, but the 3 year olds? They know how to tell some kick-ass stories and do some hilarious things. Yesterday was my time to be with the kids, and it was so refreshing to remove myself from the stupid adult world that's been making me all mopey and weepy. Instead, I played with the legos and drew a picture of my mom and ate some animal crackers while making monkey noises. My only complaint is that I couldn't get in the moon walk (or bounce house, whatever you called it as a kiddo) -- apparently I'm too big or something.

During circle time, we discussed that God made today to which a child shouted out: "God also made the alligators!" God made today and alligators. Got it?

After our very brief discussion, we sang This is the day, this is the day, that the Lord has made, that the Lord has made... When we were done, we asked the kids if there were any other songs they'd like to sing. Well, one little boy clearly must have all the right answers so he suggested Jesus Loves Me. After singing that song, we asked if there were any other songs they'd like to sing.

"Jingle Bells!"
"Yeah, Jingle Bells!"

The other teachers and I looked at each other and didn't really have a good reason not to sing. So in a very hot gym on a very hot day, ten little children and 3 big people sang Jingle Bells.

Clearly, This Housewife Thing Hasn't Left Me with Much to Write

2007-08-29T11:19:00.000-07:00

My computer has picked up a nasty virus that kind of scares me. When I start the computer, all is well with the standard green meadow stretched onto the background. After thirty minutes of use, the background changes to blooooooood red and makes this noise: Mwhahaahahahahahahaha. It's creepy, so I don't like to be around my computer much right now. It's like The Blob is taking over.

Oh, right. It doesn't really mwhahaha. But it totally does in my head.

And also, I kept this virus a secret from Matt for a day because, you see, we may or may not have legally or illegally downloaded an episode of Weeds because I might have been going crazy knowing that there was an episode out that I hadn't seen. (Our friends, acquaintances, and every stranger I've asked do not have Showtime. We had NO CHOICE, PEOPLE.) And basically, I was afraid that Matt was going to blame Weeds for the nasty virus and then tell me we had to give it up. But the virus kept mwhahaha-ing at me, and I got all freaked out, so I told him.

And praise the Lord, Matt loves Weeds just as much as I do. We downloaded another episode the next night. Matt says the virus has been with us for awhile now. Well, welcome.

And for the love, does anybody out there watch Weeds? Anybody? Hello?

Okay, fine. I'll stop talking about it then. Your loss.

Playing House

2007-08-21T10:05:00.000-07:00

So often I feel way too young to be living my life. A few times a week, I’ll think this is my house? And he’s my husband? And this is our city we call home? And then I feel thankful and weird that yes, I am old enough for this, even though some days it feels like Matt and I are just playing house and soon he’ll drop me off at my dorm.

Well nothing snaps me out of that idea quite like walking through a college’s freshman orientation, which I happened to do yesterday afternoon. They were standing in a large circle, with two-by-fours and rope in the center, doing some awful character-building activity. And thank God I didn’t have to participate. Because there are few things I hate more in life than those stupid “games” that are played at any new person orientation. I HATE THEM. They’re not games, so don’t try and trick me into playing with you!

(Perhaps I still have some anger issues to work out between me and everyone who tricked me into playing a Do You Trust Me game. Because 1) no, I don’t trust you. I don’t know you. You could really hate my shoes and thus choose to drop me and I will be hurt and sad. And 2) that’s not a game! Don’t lie to me! I hate being coaxed into playing a game, only to discover there’s no game!)

So after watching the freshman go through the pain of orientation, I drove home and started making dinner. I decided to make one of Matt’s favorites, meatloaf. I hate meatloaf. I hate the way it looks, the reputation it has, the name (it’s a loaf of meat!). But Matt’s been all sweet and breadwinner-y since I quit my job, and if meatloaf can convey my thankfulness, then meatloaf it is. I stood there mashing and sculpting, and again I suddenly felt way too young to be making meatloaf for my husband.

But then Matt went for seconds, and everything felt just right. Sometimes I feel too young, and sometimes I feel too old – but I’m learning to always feel thankful.

How to Feel Like an Accomplished Housewife

2007-08-13T14:24:00.000-07:00

What a lovely weekend. Good friends, good food, good TV. (OHMYGOD, has anybody seen the show Weeds? It's the best new thing in my life right. Unbelievably addicting, which I think is all cute and appropriate since you know, it's about pot. So, if you haven't seen it, run to Blockbuster right now or throw it in your queue and cancel any other plans you might have. You're welcome.)

(And also, Mary-Louise Parker should totally be my BFF. We could sit around and talk about how cute her big brown eyes are or how much I want to look and dress like her, or haha you sell drugs and you're a mom and I can't separate fact from fiction, but whatever! We're BFF!!)

Anyway.

We went to a wedding this weekend that was one of the most adorable and classy weddings I've ever attended. And I love going to weddings. Everyone is so happy, and it's the only time Matt will really go out and dance with me. I wish I could go to a wedding every weekend. Except at this last wedding I spilled red wine all down my dress. I would like to go to a wedding every weekend and not make a fool of myself.

This was especially embarrassing because it was at the very beginning of the reception. It was my second glass, and I hadn't even had a sip out of it yet. But I was also famished and my mind was entirely focused on getting the cheese and cracker into my mouth while still holding my purse, cardigan, and glass of wine. It was a tricky move that didn't work out. All of a sudden I felt something very cold trickle down my entire dress. Just lovely.

I went to the bathroom to try and salvage my poor dress, and somehow, miracle of miracles, it worked. The stain practically vanished. I have been playing housewife for two weeks now, and I have already conquered red wine stains in emergency situations.

I am so domestic. I think it's time I go out back and pick apples from our tree and make a pie.

Don't think I'm kidding.

Just seconds before I added stripes to my dress.

Made it Home

2007-08-07T15:11:00.000-07:00

I made it back from Texas last night. Just as I said I would, I brought home 14 pints of Blue Bell ice cream. It was a bit more challenging than I anticipated, though. My mom and Katy have both carried ice cream on to planes before, and all within the past year. Neither one of them had issues, so I didn’t expect to either. WELL. After I put my cooler on the conveyor belt, I look up to see TSA Lady #1 staring at her monitor. She looks at me, looks at the screen, and yells out, “Bag check!!” I tell her it’s okay, it’s just frozen ice cream with a bit of dry ice ,which yes, it is okay to carry on less than 5 pounds of dry ice (mama researched it). Well, that’s when she gave me evil eyes and said, “No, this bag isn’t going past security.”

This is the part when my passion for ice cream develops into anger at TSA. Because like I’ve said before, nobody gets in the way of me and my Blue Bell. I explain that my mom did this two months ago, and my friend did it a year ago, and can you just let me move on? At this point, I’ve been handed off to TSA Lady # 2 who is told to handle me.

And this is when I put on my bitch face. I start ranting that if only TSA remained consistent with their rules and regulations then maybe I’d take this stupid homeland security thing a bit more seriously. I am then handed off to TSA Lady # 3, who takes my cooler and walks me out. She says I have to check it in, which, fine, whatever, I can do that. But then she says that it’s going to cost me $70 since I’ve already checked two bags, and oh yeah, there’s a dry ice handling fee. So of course this sends me over the edge, and I start to cry.

I go all the way outside to the curbside check-in because the man who processed my bags the first time around was so kind to me. I walk up, teary-eyed and pathetic and beaten down and he just looks at me and says, “No worries.” He took my bag, didn’t ask for money, and just smiled and said have a great flight. I had to go back through security, and is anybody shocked to learn I was patted down and searched?

This morning I sent an email to Continental and told them how lovely their employee, Mark, was. And then I got up, opened my freezer, and just marveled at all the beautiful pints, relieved to see they made it here safely.

And for the record, I’m all for TSA -- IF ONLY THEY WERE CONSISTENT!

Vacation Time

2007-08-02T08:30:00.000-07:00

So last Friday was it for me at work. All I can really say about it is that it was an extremely bizarre day. Just weird. But the cutest thing in all the world happened -- each of my co-workers brought me an apple. My desk was covered in apples as they all wished me well on pursuing my teaching career. The best part, though, was when the three foreign employees came up to me and said, "I don't know why, but I was told to give you an apple."

And now I'm in Houston. I've divided my time into eating and floating in the pool. Tomorrow we're headed to the beach for the weekend and right now it's storming. Normally, I feel a little guilty when I have time off and Matt doesn't, but he's currently in Germany with work, so the guilt? Not so much. But I do miss him. I know he's jealous of all the food I've consumed. I mean, who wants to eat sausage for dinner??

Everyone Knows Food is the Way to My Heart

2007-07-24T14:12:00.000-07:00

Here’s what rocks about turning in a two-week notice: a lot of free stuff. I have been taken out to lunch four different times, have two happy hours scheduled, and have been given teacher trinkets and books for my month off. I’ve learned that people are actually bummed to see me go and so they want to, you know, do something kind. Instead of purchasing myself coffee, I’ve learned to wait thirty minutes. In that time, someone is bound to get on the elevator for coffee. If I make eye contact and smile before the elevator arrives, they will think to themselves, “Gee, Nicole’s leaving and I sure will miss her…” and two seconds later, I’m being asked what kind of coffee I like. Carmel latte, please. It's worked for a week straight.

I should have turned in a four-week notice. I think I missed out on a lot of free food.
---
As a completely random thought, I was browsing Powell's website and noticed the top five bestsellers at the moment are four Harry Potter books and a Pottery Barn book. It's like people were thinking HarryPotter, HarryPotter, HarryPotter, Pottery Barn, HarryPotter. And all the people went home and collectively said shit! How did that happen?!

No Spoilers Here

2007-07-22T22:43:00.000-07:00

Oh, Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry.

Perfect. Just perfect.

So Friday evening, we had dinner with several of our neighbors. Matt and I knew we had to leave by ten, though, and the entire hour leading up to that I was a total dud. I couldn't think of anything else other that THE SEVENTH BOOK WAS ALMOST HERE. None of them are Harry Potter fans, so I was trying to be kind with my departure, but THE SEVENTH BOOK WAS ALMOST HERE! By 10:15, we ditched them and were on our way to the party at Powell's.

We showed up around 10:30 and found the end of the line. It seemed terribly long, and it was, but I have never experienced a faster moving line. We were in and out by 12:30, which I think is quite impressive, considering the line weaved through every aisle. We got our copies and ran out to the car to GET HOME. Such an exciting weekend, to know this was the only chance to find everything out on your own, before everyone in the world knows. So magical.

And the weeknd? KICKED ASS.

Being Thankful

2007-07-17T15:36:00.001-07:00

There are about a million things I won’t miss about my job. I don’t need to list all the awful things that made me seriously consider jamming a pen up my nose and pulling it through my eyeball. But, I cannot deny the fact that I am unbelievably grateful for my experience because of what it taught me. And that has to do with the environment.

I’m a sucker for mentors, and any time a wiser, older person wants to invest some time in me, I’m all over it. At work, there were two women who took me under their wings and opened my eyes to all things green. They’re both extremely influential in the company, and they’re both extremely intelligent. One of them sent me to a class in California to learn more; another let me research and write papers informing others how to live green. They both let me take part in important meetings that discussed issues like climate change and greenhouse gasses and sustainable investments. They don’t believe in God, but they profoundly affected my faith.

Matt and I did a complete turn-around with our life after I started my job. We live with an eco-conscience, meaning we question the things we do and buy in relation to the earth. Sometimes I don’t think my parents recognize us. I may hate my job, but I am filled with gratitude for the two women that taught me how to take care of creation.

Sometimes it really pisses me off that JBU never discussed this as an issue. We had hot topic chapels that discussed gasp! homosexuals, but did we ever discuss a believer’s role in caring for creation? Live Earth took place a few weeks ago, and regardless what you think about its impact on resources, it did raise some awareness. I was pretty indifferent to Live Earth, but like my mentor at work said, “Anything to get people thinking twice.” But there was a moment while watching a concert that I got really sad – it seemed like this was a movement that believers of God and creation should have started ages ago. I mean, if we’re going to be bold and claim that this planet and these people are His creation, then shouldn’t we be leading the pack when it comes to taking care of it?

Thank God somebody is leading.

I know I don’t look the part of a tree-hugger. That’s because I’m not. The only high maintenance thing that I cut out from my life when we moved up here was that I don’t wear fake nails anymore. (That’s not to say I don’t want to, though.) But that’s the thing – there’s not a certain look to loving the earth. Recycling or changing your light bulbs or riding the bus or praying for earth-friendly legislature doesn’t mean you’re a hippie or a liberal or Captain Planet himself – it hopefully means you’re just one person hoping to leave the world a little bit tidier than when you first showed up. And that's not really asking too much.

Hermione VS. Sabrina

2007-07-16T15:09:00.000-07:00

My sister is not a Harry Potter fan, much to my disappointment. Her boyfriend is, though, thank God. She called last Friday, when Matt and I were on our way to the Delta Cafe for some good ol' fried food, to let us know she would be watching the first HP film that evening. Her boyfriend, John, planned a HP marathon before he took her to see #5 in the theater. Bless his sweet soul.

I told Steph I thought she'd enjoy them, if only she'd give them a chance. She responded, "Yeah, you're probably right. I do really love Sabrina the Teenage Witch."

And I really love my sister.

The Beauty of Blue Bell

2007-07-13T15:04:00.000-07:00

I feel much better today. Today I am excited and hopeful. In two weeks, I will be walking away from my terrible job for good. And the day after that, I will be flying to H-town to pick up some cake batter Blue Bell. I told my family I was coming to visit them, but I'm actually on a mission to bring back as much cake batter ice cream with me as possible. I was made to love this stuff.

When my mom visited two months ago, she brought a whole variety of Blue Bell pints with her. We still have a few in our freezer. One of them was cake batter, and ohmygod, the second it touched my mouth, I felt heaven. We totally got our church on, with all the Jesus-praising that happened in our kitchen. It's so good, it would make Nietzsche believe God was alive and kicking again -- if Nietzsche were alive and kicking. Matt and I committed to two spoonfuls a day, and we held to it. We finally ran out a few weeks ago, and it was a very sad moment. I wanted to dip my head in the container and lick the sides because surely, surely the taste had been absorbed. I didn't, though; I still have some of my dignity, thankyouverymuch.

But in two weeks and one day, I will be reunitied with the lovely cake batter ice cream. And I will stock up and bring some home, making sure to buy enough to share with friends. If you haven't tried it, go now. But if I run into you at the store, and there's only one pint left, I will kick you in the face. Nothing comes between me and my ice cream.

I Did It!

2007-07-11T12:41:00.000-07:00

I really quit. And it was not at all amazing like I thought it would be. I started to cry. Yes, I am that LAME. So here’s what happened:

I walked into his office, letter in hand. I gave it to my boss, and he said, “Why am I not surprised? So does this mean you got your teaching job?”

Enter tears. “No. I don’t have a job.” (What my boss heard was “I’M CRAZY! I’M QUITTING WITHOUT A NEW JOB AND HERE! PLEASE TAKE MY STEADY PAYCHECK BACK! I LAUGH IN THE FACE OF DANGER! [Or maybe that’s what I heard.])

Actually, he was very kind to me. He offered me tissue, but then he realized he was out. (Thought that counts, right?) I explained my somewhat solid plans for the future, which include grad school and substituting. We briefly talked about my time here; he apologized for not providing me with a more solid and challenging position and he wished me the best for the future. I feel relieved to be leaving my job, but there are a lot of people that I’m actually going to miss. Sure, I have lots of great stories about incompetent people, but this is an office of 130 – there are also plenty of fantastic people.

A lot of my co-workers see me as their bartender. I constantly let people lean on my desk to gripe about the latest issue, personal or professional. I always offer to pour them a drink, and then I slide them some candy. But on my last week? I’ve decided to bring in the booze. Give the people what they deserve. You need a pick-me-up in your coffee or coke? Come see the bartender. She’s only here for a few more days.

(I have more to say later. Right now, though, I am not in a proper emotional state to be discussing any more of my future. I am hungry.)

A History of My Jobs

2007-07-06T12:21:00.000-07:00

I just spoke with a co-worker who said she's only worked 3 jobs. She's 26, and this just seems absurd to me. I don't have anything to do today, so I thought I'd list my jobs. Turns out I had a lot.

This is also in honor of the fact that today was supposed to be my "I'm quitting" day, but as I was writing this, I got an email from the boss-man who said he wasn't coming in. So, dammit.
---
First Job: Checker at NASA. (or Kroger, whichever name you prefer to call your grocery store) This was my first real job, the first time FICA stole my money, and I had to wear a uniform. I enjoyed this job a lot, actually. I hated the idea that I worked at a grocery store, but most of the people I worked with were very funny. Or they at least thought I was funny, which automatically meant I liked their company.

Favorite Moment: My new boss had a terrible case of lazy eyes. I didn’t know this, and the first time I talked to him, he kept staring off to the side. I nearly said, “Would you please look me in the eyes?” but thank goodness I didn’t. His response would have been, “No, I can’t look you in the eyes.” And that would have been awkward.

Quitting Time: I was looking to get promoted into Customer Service but instead was moved to Video. And OhMyGod, video is, like, where the losers work. So I decided it was time to end the relationship.

Lasted: 8 months
---
Second Job: Babysitter for two children that my friend Nikki used to baby-sit. What Nikki didn’t tell me was that the younger boy was a direct spawn from Satan.

Favorite Moment: One time I locked my keys in the car and we had to sit outside in the heat waiting for my dad to save the day. It was fun watching the evil child melt. And I scored my highest bowling score that summer – 180. And that made the evil child cry.

Quitting Time: “I’m going to camp, so I think it’s best we end this now.”

Lasted: 6 weeks
----
Third Job: Hostess at Taste of Texas. This was a very established, very organized nice restaurant, and I worked with several friends every Saturday and Tuesday night. Unfortunately, we had to wear a cumber bum, bow tie, and hose. This definitely was the worst uniform I ever had to wear.

Favorite Moment: It’s a tie. At the end of each night, I’d grab a cheese roll, a regular roll, and a cup of Coke to go. Coke never tasted so good. I still quiver when I think about it. My other favorite part of the job was being Caller 1 or Caller 2. Those were the hostesses who were stationed out in the restaurant, and when a table got up to leave, she would call in on her ear piece to the front that a 6 top would be available in 2 minutes. God, I loved that ear piece. It was all very James Bond, with the cumber bum and tiny microphone.

Quitting Time: Left for college. It was actually quite sad.

Lasted: 15 months
---
Fourth Job: Secretary for Faith Community. I got to work with awesome people and do awesome things. This might be my favorite job ever.

Favorite Moment: Entertain Nicole days. On Thursdays, the pastor, youth pastor, and the other secretary had the day off. It was just Scott (who was supposed to be the youth intern) and me, and Scott spent most of the day making me laugh, because he is one of the funniest people to ever exist. Oh! This is also the summer Harry Potter came out in theaters. Scott looks JUST LIKE Harry, and I still remember the day Daniel Radcliffe appeared on Yahoo and the other secretary and I yelped because Scott! Was on the internet! As Harry Potter!

Quitting Time: Back to college. BOOO.

Lasted: 3 months
---
Fifth Job: Youth Intern at Faith Community. I played around all day with kids. I got to expense taking people to Chick-fil-a and Baskin Robbins. It rocked.

Favorite Moment: Having my brother and sister around in the youth group. They’re awesome. I also backed into the youth pastor’s truck and made a tiny dent. There was a kid in the car, and I think I said shit. She probably thought I was evil. Come to think of it, she didn’t really come back much.

Quitting Time: Again, back to school.

Lasted: 3 months
---
Sixth and Seventh and Ninth Jobs: Admin crap for my mom at her jobs, and admin crap for my in-laws.

Favorite Moment: getting my mom to buy me lunch.

Quitting Time: For school, duh.

Lasted: two summers
---
Eighth Job: Order puller at Dayspring. I showed up, was given a list of orders, and had to walk around the warehouse packing up boxes. It was awful, but I got to make my own hours, and I made pretty good money for a college kid.

Favorite Moment: I cannot think of a single good moment.

Quitting Time: I called and said, “I’m not coming in today.” The next day, “I’m not going to make it in.” And the next, “I think I’m done.”

Lasted: 4 months
---
Tenth (and final) Job: Administrative Assistant/ Marketing Assistant/ Sustainability Assistant/ Receptionist. I work for a bunch of architects and engineers, who are surprisingly helpless considering they’re able to build buildings and all.

Favorite Moment: I have a document on my computer that is a script I’ve been writing using real life office moments. I intend to submit this script to The Office, and I hope to catch some of my situations on TV one day. The script is filled with favorite moments. Here’s an excerpt:
Michael: (leaning on Pam’s desk, sighing) Hi, Pam.
Pam: (not looking up from her screen) Hi, Michael.
Michael: Listen, are you going to videotape the all staff meeting today?
Pam: No, we don’t have a recorder.
Michael: Oh, man. Because I won’t be able to hit that.
Pam: (stunned, shocked look) Oh. You know, you really shouldn’t say that.

Quitting Time: Well, I was supposed to turn in my notice today, but my boss is “working from home.” Looks like it will have to wait until Monday.

Lasted: 18 months
---
Eleventh Job: who the hell knows anymore?

How Not to Multi-Task

2007-07-03T11:10:00.000-07:00

A note taped to the refrigerator at work: “Please use spoon to get ice. Do not use your hands; I’ve seen you do it. Eew.” For real. There is such a note, unsigned, on our fridge. I love how passive-aggressive this office is.

Here’s what grosses me out: when I see people take work into the restroom. (And by people, I mean men. Because it’s the only restroom I can see from my desk.) Please do not make changes to that document while you’re sitting and doing your thing. Because I’ve put my drawing-to- conclusions skills to work, and if a man has work with him and he’s missing in the restroom for several minutes, he must be sitting. Which, eew. My biggest fear is that the work-related thing is going to be directly handed off to me for something. And I’m going to vomit. I’ll see a colored speck in the recycled paper, and although it’s clearly the recycled part of the paper, I will immediately assume it is a particle of something because that’s how my mind works. You want to multi-task? Listen to music while filing.

So I’m going to sneak into the men’s restroom and put a poster in each stall that reads “Are you doing work in here? Are you planning on giving that to Nicole? SICK.”

This Will Literally Knock Your Socks Off

2007-06-27T13:47:00.000-07:00

Of the three of you who read this, if you have not checked out the Literally blog on the side of this page, you must. It makes my heart swell with happiness. My only complaint is that it’s not updated hourly.

I tried explaining the website to Matt, who just kind of gave me a funny look and then spaced out. He apparently didn’t see the hilariousness of it all. Or I did a lousy job explaining, which I highly doubt. But! The other day we experienced an excellent ride to work, which helped Matt understand.

Our morning commute goes like this:
rush out the door and into the car
drive two blocks
turn around to grab Matt’s phone, laptop, or breakfast
either park at the train or hop on 26
IF we drive in on 26:
gripe about the traffic
promise to ride the train tomorrow
turn on the news
flip between CNN, CNN headlines, FOX, and ABC News to avoid the awful commercials XM chooses to air
gripe about the construction downtown
throw Nicole out of the car (Quick! There’s a bus behind!)

So the other day, we were listening to FOX (which let me tell you why I hate FOX – not because of their political stance [although that too can be bothersome], but because of how much they talk about Paris stinkin’ Hilton.)

(I changed stinkin’ from freakin’ because my daddio reads this, and although I can get away with saying nearly anything to my papa, it makes him shudder when I say freaking. So I will vow never to say freaking on this again.)

Man! I should not have had that last latte! I can barely write straight.

Back to FOX. After some update on Paris, the newsperson said, “And when we return, a story that will literally stun you.” I looked at Matt and said, “Quick! Change the station! I don’t want to be stunned!” The rest of the way in to work, Matt and I took turns pretending to be stunned in various poses. And let me tell you, Matt rocks at stunned poses. He’s like my very own mannequin.

Thank you, FOX. It was the best commute to work ever.

(p.s I know stunned can mean to shock or astonish someone, but it can also mean to make unconscious. Which clearly that's what FOX meant. the end. )

A Story of a Table

2007-06-19T11:39:00.000-07:00

At the end of my sophomore year of college, I bought a kitchen table from Wal-Mart for $100. Mel and I found it and thought it’d be perfect for our skanky little duplex we were going to live in the next year. I decided I’d splurge and purchase it; after all, $100 was A LOT for an unemployed college girl to spend at one time. But I was proud of it, and it felt like my first big furniture purchase.

The table was cute. It served its purpose in the duplex and moved with Mel, Natalie, and me to the triplex. We spent lots of time talking, eating, and laughing around the table. Most of the time it was covered in homework and books.

Then the table moved with Matt and me to our first apartment in Fayetteville. We just got married, so the table was always set with placemats and flowers and dinner at 5:30. Before long, we decided to move across the country. When the movers came, the table went with them. And it actually showed up in our Portland apartment in one piece. In that apartment, it started looking kind of frumpy. I was getting tired of it, but we didn’t have any room for a nicer, bigger table.

When we moved to our house a year ago, the table came, once again. Matt and I really began to loathe it. It became super wobbly – anything that had to be cut with a steak knife was out of the question for dinner. We couldn’t have many people over for dinner because we only had room for four. And it didn’t look right; we had this great living room with this awful, cheap ass table off to the side. The table hit rock bottom when our friends carried it into our kitchen for Flip Cup, a relay race beer chugging game that made our kitchen sticky for weeks. The fact that our table was perfect for Flip Cup was the final straw. We decided it was time to find a new table, and in January we bought a lovely modern dining room table from West Elm. This table was sturdy and big and pretty and Could Not Be Used For Beer Games.

The new table didn’t come with chairs, though. We wanted some sleek leather chairs to match, and we found some at a local Ross. But we only found two. So our quest for chairs began, and during that time we used the chairs from the old table to occupy our new table, ghetto fabulous style. We hit up every Ross in the Portland metro area weekly for months. We found one. Then we found another. And then we got stuck. With only 4 chairs.

And I don’t know if people know this about Ross, but they’re bitches when it comes to returning things. So we were truly stuck with four chairs.

But finally, finally, we found some lovely leather chairs that ended our search! And the table is just perfect. And this meant we could now sell our old Wal-Mart table on Craigslist. We posted the ad on Sunday evening, and by morning we had 10 offers.

And folks, I am unbelievably proud to say we sold the Wal-Mart table to two college girls.

They came to check it out and discussed re-upholstering the chairs. When those girls asked me where I bought the table, I told them Target. Because hello! They ban Wal-Marts out here! And I wanted the table gone!

The girls took it. And I hope they brag about their great Target find on Craigslist to all their college girlfriends.

The best part? We sold it for $80. BOOYAH!

The Good Attitude Initiative

2007-06-14T10:30:00.000-07:00

I’m not sure I slept last night. I know I went to bed, but this morning I feel like I was up all night cramming for a final or something. Coffee didn’t help. Of course, I’m sure it doesn’t work as well when I’m slurping it down while curling my hair and getting dressed because I refused to get out of bed on time. Coffee is meant to be enjoyed, right?

I had a pretty lousy day at work yesterday. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. But I went into work yesterday with every intention of having a good attitude. This meant no complaining, griping, rolling of the eyes, cussing under my breath, and using sarcasm as my only tone. I even went so far as to ask Jesus for help. And yes, I was sincere. I really did want to change my attitude. But by 12:45, I gave up. I couldn’t take it anymore, and frankly, I’m proud I made it to lunchtime.

I realized I used my sarcastic jokes and witty complaints to get me through the day. And when I tried to have a good freaking attitude, I depressed myself. So at 4:55, I left (my phone is 5 minutes fast, so I go by its time), got on the train, called Matt and said, “I need pizza and beer.” It helped. And then when we got home, we played some air band -- nothing makes me feel better than pretend-rocking to “Cold Hard Bitch.”

The evening turned into a game night with Bryan and Laura, and I didn’t crawl into bed until 11:30. I can handle staying up late, and I realize 11:30 isn’t that late, but I was exhausted after my failed attempt at The Good Attitude Initiative.

And now it’s another day, and I’m barely awake, but at least I have my sarcasm to keep me going. Screw The Good Attitude Initiative.

But you know what? Today is Matt’s birthday, which means it is a happy day. Because if he had not been born 26 years ago, I would have never had such an amazing lead guitarist for my air band.

Reason Number ONE BILLON Why I Need A New Gig

2007-06-11T12:36:00.000-07:00

A very important person in the office asked me to proof a letter he wrote. Now this person has notoriously awful grammar. I understand grammar mistakes happen – you make them, I make them, we all make them. Sometimes I even make them on purpose. Like fragmenting a sentence to convey a thought. But people – you’re not supposed to embrace grammar errors.

This person embraces all things wrong.

First sentence of the letter: Welcome back, hope your vacation was enjoyed and relaxing.

And my take: Welcome back -- I hope your vacation was enjoyable and relaxing.

I know there’s some passive voice going on that probably should have been fixed, but I know this person would have disagreed with me, demanded a change, and hit me with a chair. I had to be super conservative in my mark-ups. I mean, I am at the very bottom of the totem pole here. Beneath the surface of it, in fact. (I know that’s a fragment. It’s my style, yo.) I’ve lost my point.

Oh. So this very important person read the first sentence with my changes and said:

“You changed enjoyed. I liked it better enjoyed.”

And I just stood there. No response. Waiting for my cue to get the hell out of the office.

Later, I told my co-worker this story. I said, "When I'm boss, I'm going to demand all my employees use proper grammar." And then I realized I just described being an English teacher.

Won't you be my neighbor?

2007-06-07T14:16:00.000-07:00

When I was in kindergarten, I had a super-cool way of meeting friends. I still remember the first time I used my friend-making system. We were getting ready to do our round robin stations as a class. I scoped out a girl that was pretty and had nice shoes (some qualities in a friend never change, do they?). After choosing the soon-to-be friend, I went and stood near her, but I didn’t say or do anything else. I waited. And then when she looked at me, I looked back with a confused do I know you? kind of look. You know, tilted head, eyebrows scrunched, lips twitched to the side. And then, here’s how it all goes down: I said, “Um, I can’t remember. Are we friends?” Hell, yeah.

And we became friends. Because when opportunity knocks, mama always said to seize it.

Twenty years later, I’m not sure I could get away with the same method, as foolproof as it once was. I guess you could say people are smarter or something. We finally met our new neighbors across the street. Matt and I think we’re a great match (obviously), but really I just want to know if they’re on board with us or not. Are they willing to play games, eat our ice cream, and let me borrow sugar or not? Let’s just get to the point – are we friends?

It’s not that we’re desperate for friends; we’re not. I just really hate that ambiguous time in a relationship when you have no idea what kind of relationship you’re in. And maybe I’m just really excited about our neighbors. Because neighbor friends are some of the best, don’t you think?

Maybe we'll even rally a game of Hide & Seek with the other neighbors. Excluding our elderly neighbor -- she can just bake us a pie.

Blah Blah Blah

2007-06-07T13:10:00.000-07:00

Look at me! I’m writing again! Big whoop.

Doesn’t everybody blog now? I think so. My dog probably freaking blogs. Wait – no, she doesn’t. Our computer at home is broken. It’s for the best; she’d probably just bitch about how we never give her enough water or something. Well, Taylor! I don’t want to hear it!

So once upon a time I hung out on xanga. It was cool for a wee bit of time. But then it’s all about comments! comments! I need more comments! And that became lame. So my daily posts became weekly and then monthly and then never again. But then at work I went from kind of bored to poking my eyes out with the nearest sharp object might be fun bored. I decided for my own sanity (and for the sake of my pretty little eyes) I’d just goof around a bit more in this whole writing thing.

And really, one of my favorite people in all the planets finally created a blog, and I want to be just like her. So there you go – Alabamber is to blame.

p.s. Did you know that Unabomber is in the spell check system?