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.

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.

!!!

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...

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

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

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

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.