Making one of my least favorite chores a little more interesting...

Grocery shopping and I are not friends. Can you tell? I love to cook. Having food is always a bonus, and putting it together in creative ways is one of my most favorite things. However, this whole grocery shopping thing...not a fan.  

I like eating out even less, and so I rely on frozen soup from past cooking adventures and cans of tuna in times like this. It's what my refrigerator currently looks like. Before leaving town for the week, I intentionally at everything that might go bad, so it's not surprising that this was what it looked like upon returning Saturday night. Now it's Monday. I have a lunch meeting today and pizza at a different work function tonight. There's one Luna bar left for breakfast tomorrow before a tough work out (had to save it for that!), and the leftover chili from stuff I defrosted last night will suffice for dinner. I can scrounge for lunch. Therefore, it might be Wednesday before I go buy any food. 

Yes, grocery shopping and I are not friends. But thanks to Krista, I now have a fresh perspective. Before heading to HEB in Austin last week to get all the food for Thanksgiving, she suggested that I take my iPhone and headphones, plug in and listen to music while shopping. Genius! Grocery shopping was less painful. And even if there are only a few items on my list, unlike last week's trip to the grocery store, I plan on having headphones handy.

Thank you, Krista. 

Crafty Christmas Cards

I like crafts. However, I have a bad habit of starting something and never really finishing it...so I'm working on that.  I started painting this year. I make cards. I used to mess with little fun jewelry and even went through a candle-making phase.

Last year, I saved about a dozen gift tags from presents. They were the huge, thick decorative ones. This year, I actually remembered that, found them (even after two moves!) and made about ten cards. There weren't many, and they're super simple...but some people I know will get these simple cards this Christmas. I'm all about saving money and recycling stuff in crafty ways. I took a picture of the tags before starting this project and sadly sealed up all the envelopes before getting a shot of the finished product.

Adding Space

I deactivated Facebook about two weeks ago. I made the decision sort of on a whim having dabbled with the idea for several months. I finally just clicked the button, typed in my password and confirmed my choice. It was official.

I thought I'd miss it. I thought I'd wonder. I thought I'd cave. And I did, for a minute. But overall, I didn't really miss it. I didn't really miss the status updates, the pictures or the groups. Sure, when I was bored or procrastinating, it would have given me something to do, but instead I called a friend, went to sleep early, straightened up my apartment or crossed off something on my list of things to do. I was more productive. I was more engaged in the moment. I stopped wondering about life in other places and focused on my own. I was curious, for a few minutes, some days...but not really. I logged on this morning and made a change to my profile, but after several clicks, I deactivated it. Again.

I'll probably still be back at some point. Perhaps even next week? My friends in Austin seem to plan more social events using the Website and post more pictures than my growing community here in Atlanta. So yes, maybe I'll log on using my email and password to reactivate my account. It's that easy. But until then, I'll be getting things done and making more phone calls. And writing more blogs :)

  

It's a first...and I don't like it very much.

2010 is the first year in my memory - in at least a decade and maybe my whole life - that I am not spending one week, one day, one hour or even one minute in the great state of Colorado. For those of you who have known me for longer than a brief moment or have read this blog for a while now, you know just how much I am in love and am obsessed with that glorious place that is home to the Rocky Mountains, Summit County, three of my favorite cities in the whole wide world and more life-long friends than any other single state.

I was blessed. For four years, I called it home. When I met people on airplanes and they asked, "where are you from," I quickly replied with "Denver" or "Boulder" proudly. I wasted no time in bragging about my state, a state that wasn't truly mine to claim...but I did it anyway. Natives to this place take great pride in their heritage and even have stickers reminding others that they were born there. Those of us who pretend we can call a bit of it our own are left with the "Transplant" reminders stuck on our cars and Nalgene bottles. We quickly fit in and wonder why we didn't get there sooner.

When I moved to Texas, one of my biggest fears is that I would lose Colorado. Colorado would drift into the ancient past like a distant memory and eventually would be something I experienced a long time ago in a different life. That didn't happen. As I wrote "Austin" on the return address part of an envelope, I still stayed closely connected to the mountains...and Amy, Julie, Anneke, Julia, Jessica, Carolyn, Becky and countless others. It was my home away from home away from home. In 2009 alone, I managed to spend at least seven weeks with those people and in those places. It was magical.

Then I moved to Atlanta. Atlanta is not a bad place. It's close to the Appalachian mountains. I've visited Greenville and Asheville, Nashville and Chattanooga, Kim and Dan, and Blair and JP. Elizabeth came through town, and my cousins vacationed here. It's been a good city. I've managed to get back to Austin many times for important reasons. I've been to DC more than usual to see family. I even was able to go to Chicago twice already, and it's not even Christmas yet.

Alas, I will not be making it to Colorado. 2010 will come to an end in just over a month. There are no tickets purchased with DEN as the destination. No emails and phone calls have been made to arrange places to sleep depending on how the snow falls. I will not be drinking Vic's coffee with Julie or walking at Wash Park with Carolyn. 2010 will conclude, and something will be missing.

2011 will have to make up for this kind of mistake. A ski trip should be planned immediately.
  
  

Without Hesitation

We signed up to paint. That's what they told us in the announcement and what was written on the paper where we jotted down our names. There was even a reminder and details email sent out including instructions on what to wear for painting and that lunch would cost $5. That's what was expected.

It was a church-wide service project, and we were partnering with an organization that meets the needs of widows in a poor area of Atlanta. People typically fix furnaces, do yard work and paint. Not that complicated. And we were going to do that: paint.

Upon arrival Saturday morning, all was going as planned. Our sleepy eyes looked around the circle at each other as the leader greeted us and explained the history of organization, told us what we were to paint and introduced us to the sweet, elderly lady who owned the house.

And then we were interrupted.

We were interrupted by Precious: her mangy-looking dog. It was a small dog, probably no bigger than a trendy purse, and looked more like one you'd see roaming around a third world country than owned by a woman in Atlanta. The kind woman explained how her dog was completely fine before she had to go to the hospital for two months. A relative had Precious for her but returned her looking absolutely terrible. We listened to her sad story, made the appropriate comments and began to paint.

But not Jeni.

Jeni came up to me almost immediately to inform me that she was going to take Precious to the vet. She would put this sad and dirty looking animal into her car, drive across the entire city of Atlanta, stop at home, go to one vet that she knew was open on a Saturday, have the dog examined, pay for it out of her her and her husband's own bank account, get her whatever necessary medicine she needed and return the dog to this kind woman on the other side of town, even if it took all day.

There was no "but..." The were no excuses. There were no concerns. There were no hesitations. She quickly mentioned the idea to her husband, he loved it and she went to complete the task at hand. And it took all day.

The poor little dog had flees. Bad flees. And they were so bad that she had somehow gotten an infection, as well, so she'd need medicine for that, too. Jeni returned Precious that afternoon to a grateful woman who could never even consider taking her dog to the vet because it was too expensive. She was full of such joy!

The part of this story that gets to me is the fact that Jeni never hesitated. She saw a need and realized that with a little inconvenience and sacrifice on her own part that she could meet that need. Right now. Immediately. Done.

How often do we see someone who is hungry, hurting, thirsty, sad, confused or struggling and quietly say to ourselves after considering a solution, "but..." But I'm too busy. But I'm running late. But it's not in my budget. But I don't know them well enough. But it'd be awkward. But it would take too much time. But someone else will help. But I don't know what to do.

We are good at making excuses. And it's OK. We don't doubt, criticize or question ourselves or others when we pass by an obvious need. Excuses and "buts" are completely socially acceptable. Jeni didn't make excuses. She didn't even mention a list of concerns or questions. She just did something with the resources - time, money and knowledge - that she had.

Sure, we painted the trim on that little old lady's house that day, which was nice. She thanked us and smiled appropriately. She expected that. we all did. But it's the young woman who restored her little dog to health that she always remember, the woman who met a need that was deeper, more personal and more important. Jeni blessed her in an unexpected way by responding without hesitation.

      

Rain, rain, please come and stay...

Rainy mornings might be my favorite. They grant unparalleled permission to stay in pajamas a little longer, brew an extra large pot of coffee and get a slightly later start to the work day. It's like a meteorological pause button reming me that it's OK to slow to take my time.

Sun-Dried Tomatoes

When I was in the 8th-grade, my friend Ruth and I spent many weekend hours at the mall eating mall food. Mall food, of course, was McDonald's. The best mall in our area had a Rock 'N Roll themed resturant with an old-fashioned game where you could win a high-bounce ball for a quarter. We collected the high-bounce balls, wandered in and out of the Gap, Express and Abrocombie and Fitch (when it was known for warm, wool sweaters - clothes that actually covered your body and kept you warm) and considered ourselves mature 13-year-olds.

As mature 13-year-olds, of course, it was time to graduate from french fries and chicken nuggets. So one day, with crinkled up dollar bills in our pockets, we went to California Pizza Kitchen. It took several $3-an-hour gigs to pay for dinner, but it was a dinner appropriate our mature age. They had waiters and waitresses and everything. And you got to order off of an actual menu in your hands, not the neon sign above the register.

I was sure that at that very moment that I had arrived. I was all grown-up. No more were the days of high bounce balls for me. After all, I was a teenager.

We looked at the menu that day, and I vividly remember wanting to order something different, something fancy, even though I never admitted or acknowledged that at the time. And so we did. We ordered a pizza with something called sun-dried tomatoes. It sounded very adult. I think that my friend Ruth had eaten this before and said it was good, but frankly, that detail slips my mind all these years later. After all, it was probably 1992...maybe 1993.

We ate our pizzas, probably while drinking Sprite, and handed over the $1s and $5s that families had us paid for playing with their children on Friday nights. It was an expensive meal. Only one family I knew paid $5 an hour, and that was only on special occasions.

I ate my pizza without complaint, acting very mature, of course, as we probably giggled over the boys at youth group that were were going to see that week and most likely failed to tip appropriately. We at sun-dried tomatoes on our pizza. Because that's the kind of thing adults order.

Over the years, I have often ordered sun-dried tomatoes. Maybe because they seem more exciting than regular tomatoes. Maybe because they are often combined with other foods that I pick on a menu. But the funny thing is, as I ate a cheese spread the other day infused with several flavors, including sun-dried tomatoes, I was reminded, once again, that I'm not really a fan. The sweet taste to them just doesn't fit with the other flavors. I find it too over-powering and that it changes the expected flavor into one of which I'm not so fond. I have memories of ordering them and picking most off, thinking that maybe - just maybe - there are just too many sun-dried tomatoes on whatever it is that I'm eating. If I just were to get rid of a few, it would be OK. I'd still have the sophisticated item but without the intense sweetness that my palate does not appreciate. But it never works. And I always regret the decision.

I can't help but wonder why we, as human beings, continue to cave into making choices for things that we don't really like? In college, I promised myself that I would never purchase capri pants. I ended up owning more than several pairs over the last decade. I refused to wear "sorority girl pants" around the same time, and now I have many old ones in my closet. These days, I am outspoken against skinny jeans. Seriously?! Do they really look good on anyone over the age of 21 who weighs more than a 100-pounds?! Not. A. Fan. And at the very same time, as the woman was running my credit card for a new pair of jeans yesterday, I wondered if I should have tried on some skinny ones. Ya know...just to see what they'd look like?

We like to claim that once we graduate college, we graduate peer pressure. No longer are we influenced by the choices of others and the pictures in magazines. Our friends don't influence who we date, and movies don't tell us what he or she should look like. Our wine selections aren't driven by the label, and our coffee beverage isn't made more complicated by a free sample that gets us hooked.

Yeah, right.


  

 

Deactivated

I deactivated my Facebook account today. There were several reasons that I decided to take a break from the wonderful Web site that promotes social events, reminds me of birthdays, shares pictures that are worth a thousand words and makes sure I know what a elementary-school friend - who, of course, I haven't seen in over two decades - ate for lunch. I'll probably return to the social phenomenon one day, maybe much sooner or much later than you think. I really don't know? Nonetheless, for today, you can find out about all the ridiculously exciting things going on in my life by reading my blog. Thank you!

Unpredictable

You already know that I love football season. It's not a secret. I wrote a blog about it a month ago. That has not changed. I like it even more than when I was in college. Back then, it was more a social function...and where there was also a game being played. Now, after living in Big12 areas of the country for several years, I've found myself turning on ESPN some Saturday mornings.


One of the things I love the most, besides my Mizzou Tigers, is the unpredictability of the sport that each and every Saturday can bring grown men to tears and leave the experts in shock.


The beginning of 2010 predicted that teams like Texas and Alabama would do well. They gave them high rankings in the polls and some thought that maybe, just maybe, even with certain players having graduated, they could meet again in a national championship game. Baylor would be Baylor. Mizzou would stay in the middle. And Oklahoma could easily steal Texas' glory by claiming the Big 12 Championship title. Schedules were made. Teams from South Dakota and California were picked to "warm up" the big guys who play real football, easily expecting to win.


Can you tell that the Big 12 is my favorite?


There wasn't much expected surprise and the announcers on GameDay probably didn't think that their predictions would be too controversial. 


Then the season started.


Kansas lost to some unknown school from North or South Dakota. UT lost to UCLA. Alabama was defeated by South Carolina. Mizzou beat Oklahoma (GO TIGERS!!). Auburn is in competition to go to the national championship game. Oregon uses pictures to call their plays. And Baylor has the best record in the Big12 South. They just beat Texas this past weekend.


No one predicted this. No one expected this. No one, based on all the logical information that they had, could call it. 


And that, my friends, is one of the reasons I LOVE COLLEGE FOOTBALL. You never know who will win, what freshman will surprise the big wigs on TV or what school spirit will overcome even the biggest bullies on the block. It makes it interesting. It keeps you on your toes. It shows that fans can make a difference with their spirit and support, changing the expectations of those who study the sport the most. It's a good reminder of how life is this way too, and for that I love it!




P.S.
M-I-Z...Z-O-U! Goooooo Tigers!