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!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
This and That
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.
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.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
I'm Getting Bold Here
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!
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!
Monday, November 17, 2008
Big Changes Ahead
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?
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?
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
The Weekend
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.
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.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Whether You Consider it a Win or Loss, At Least it's OVER
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.
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.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Totally Worth It
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
What Comes Next
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Why Hello...
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.
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.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
A Few Unconnected Thoughts
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!
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!
Friday, September 12, 2008
Celebrating with a Hurricane
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.
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.
Monday, September 8, 2008
First Day on the Job
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Being Sandy
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.
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.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
I Don't Really Do This Sort of Thing
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.
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, August 15, 2008
Friday Candy
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.
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.
Friday, August 8, 2008
A Stone to Remember
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
A Twenty Dollar Misunderstanding
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.
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.
Monday, July 21, 2008
On Sucky Things and Awesome People
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Why the Blob
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
The Making of Something Awesome
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.
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.
Monday, June 23, 2008
A Tribute
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.
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.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Who me? Complain?
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.
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.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
!!!
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!
Monday, May 26, 2008
If you really want to hear about it...
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
The Weather May Be Crappy, But We're Still Having Fun
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Young at Heart
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.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
At Least I'm Tan
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.
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.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Afternoon Thoughts (To Put off Grading)
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.
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.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
I Forgot This Thing Was For Writing
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.
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.
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