if...

If I had another chance, I would do it differently.
(Maybe that's the point of the entire exercise?)





When I have another chance, I will do it differently.
I think that's the point of the entire exercise.

visting old friends.

in this case, the old friends are posts i wrote on xanga in 2005-2007. i recognize the writing, but man, the girl who wrote those posts is a total stranger. there's a part of me that wants to keep reading to find out who she is, and if she might come back, but there's another part of me who doesn't want to peek into that life...it was a long time ago. so much is different. not automatically worse, but decidedly less-good. in many ways, to me.

when does nostalgia mean something?

remembering.

As I drove home from work tonight, I was reminded how much I love summer nights. This night is especially perfect for driving, listening to music, thinking things through.

And now, a confession, if you don't mind: summer nights make me wish I were in love.

I is for in-laws.

No, I don't actually have in-laws. Not any in-laws of my own, anyway. The in-law relationship is a curious thing...a relationship borne out of marriage. I've seen all sorts of things modeled around me: great relationships between my friends and the women and men who raised their spouses. It's a beautiful thing. Or it can be anyway. Soon after my Mom died, I realized that the man I marry would never know my Mom. How sad and awful that the person I would grow old with would never meet my greatest earthly influence...meeting and knowing her would help him to understand me. That's less of a worry now (because I don't think marriage is in my future), but one that I still think of often.

I also used to spend time thinking/wondering about/praying for a mother-in-law who would love me like I was her own. I would want her to know that my Mom was amazing and because of her influence, I've seen what a good wife is...I know what a good wife looks like. She looked like my Mom. (I know she wasn't perfect, but she was a remarkable woman. She was a great wife to my Dad, and I wish I could tell her how much that example meant/means to me.) Getting to the place where I let go of the idea of being married someday is also letting go of the idea of having that Mom-figure in my life, and in such a special way. She would love me and I would love her and it wouldn't fill the hole created by my Mom's death, but it would provide a special sort of comfort just the same.

---------------------------------------------

Yeah, I know this is a strange post. Some of you are probably thinking that if I want in-laws so desperately, I'm welcome to yours. I kindly, and respectfully, say that I want your in-laws no more than I want your spouse. It's not about that, so much, as it is about family. I miss my family, the way we once were. I look at what's ahead and honestly, I'm struggling with trusting God. I feel like my Mom's death was a sucker punch and I don't trust him not to do it again. I want to rest in the knowledge that he works every single event and circumstance for my good (which is to be like him), but there's definitely a disconnect between what I understand the words to mean and what I believe is true. I know that God's nature is good. But this? How ...? I can't even find the words.

I is for in-laws, but it's also for Insecurity. I just looked up "insecurity" and was intrigued by the following definition: not firm or fixed, unsteady.

Yep. That pretty much sums it up.

I is for...eh, whatever.

I'm feeling frustrated and angry today.

And I know I suck because I missed yesterday. Welcome to my universe.

encyclopedia of me.

I'm doing this little NaBloPoMo thing this month and I'm probably going to do posts that begin with successive letters of the alphabet. I'll generally do one letter a day to give me a place to start my posts.

Today's letter is A, of course.

Well, it should be. I think I wanna talk about children instead. In the course of my job, I see a lot of people throughout the course of the day. Some of the people are parents or other caretakers of children. The store in which I work is not one that lends itself to occupying small kids. Or big ones, really. Many of our displays of propped out and some of those props are toy-like, but it's a tough store for little ones. I get that.

What I don't get are parents who let their kids run wild in public. And I'm not talking about kids who will misbehave out of a parent's line of sight, but will respond to a chastening look or attention-getting phrase. Kids who have tantrums, whine and yell back to their parents...I just don't get it.

I actually feel sorry for parents when I see their children behave that way. They can't think it's good or normal. They seem a little sad, a little mad and maybe a little defeated.

Ugh. Just ugh.

maybe, just maybe...

i think i'm done here.

owls and flatulence.

i had an absolutely abysmal customer interaction today. so much so that it made me cry. granted, i was already feeling a little sensitive and thin-skinned today, but she was nasty when there was no need for it. in re-telling the experience to a more seasoned co-worker, i teared up. (what a wuss i am! but that's not the point of this story. okay, maybe a small point.)

i ended up having a great rest-of-my-day, and didn't give much thought to ol' nasty pants until i got home and was thinking about how small and loser-y she made me feel. i remember distinctly feeling that same way one year ago today. i had an interaction with an administrator who was nasty when there was no need for it. he had a choice to be nice or not, and he chose to be ugly. in front of students. and loudly.
it was not my finest moment. and it definitely was not his.

one of my co-workers from many workplaces ago once gave me a sweet wish. he said, "i wish you had thicker skin. you are too sensitive for your own good." how right he was. and is. for all the things i am, one thing i am definitely not is a let-it-roll-like-water-off-of-a-duck kind of girl. i envy that in people. i want to be tougher. tough, but not hard.

so i guess what i want to say to that woman today and that man from last year is this:
give a hoot. (about the feelings of others. it's simple. try it.)
don't be a toot. (nobody likes a stinker.)

just this and that.

there's so much that i miss there. people, mainly.
there's so much here that i wouldn't give up to be there.



i am learning how hold dear without hanging on. it's trickier than it seems. to me, anyhow.

obsessions.

a few things that i love, lately:
chicken fried rice. (like, a lot.)
creme de menthe altoids. not with item number one.
insoles.
keens.

facts and oddities about me:
i buy organic milk. and pop tarts. (but they are the low-fat kind.)
i lurve to snooze.
i'll be thirty-five next week. and thirty-four really, really sucked.
i think i might need glasses.

other news:
i miss my friends, but i'm glad to be working.
i had an allergy attack last night that lasted about four hours. rude.

sorry. except not.

i hate it when people say they're sorry when they aren't the least bit sorry.
if you're doing something you know you shouldn't do, stop doing it.
if you're doing something you know you shouldn't do and don't want to stop, then don't talk about it.
if you're doing something you know you shouldn't do and don't want to stop and don't want to stop talking about it, don't expect people to swallow your "sorry" when it's got a million jagged and insincere edges.

if that chaps your hide, i'm...not sorry.

working.

I start my new job tomorrow. I'm excited! I'm nervous. I have lots of self-doubt. I wonder if I can do this. I keep remembering other things...not good things...I know this is a new start.
God's faithfulness is so constant and so there. He's never failed me.

Still, I worry.

Tomorrow will be a good day.
The next one, too.


I desperately needed grace and you didn't give it to me. You're a petty, small, chickeny person. You had a great opportunity to not be a jerk and you didn't take it. That says more about you than it does me. POO. ON. YOU.

bald facts

so. i'm going to be forty in fewer years than i'd like to admit. no matter what, god willing. i'm going to be forty in not-so-many years.

i ask myself this:
will i be happy if i'm doing then what i'm doing now? if nothing in my life changed, would i be satisfied?


the answer is a resounding "no."


so then it's time for baby steps.
i gotta take baby steps to get to where i want to be.

phew.
there was a time, not so long ago, when i was not capable of looking forward. not at all. it's not that i didn't want to, it's that i couldnot. i didn't have the ability. that may not surprise some of you, but just now, justnow, i am able to see how far i have come. praise god for the healing he brings.

and for the record, i'm not sleepy again. yet. again.
insomnia is gross. and mean.

the monkey's his uncle?

I miss getting dressed up.
Okay, scratch that. I miss getting dressed. I looked in a drawer with my jewelry in it and I thought, "oh earrings, I miss you." (See, one doesn't need earrings when laying [or is it lying?] about all day.)

I love the pageantry and the human interest stories presented in the Olympics. So much skill, talent and sacrifice for one race, one routine, one moment in time. (Cue the Whitney Houston song from the '88 Games.) Feel free to sing along with your cell phone illuminated and held aloft.

We took my soon-to-be ex-brother-in-law his belongings last weekend. He'd left a garageful of stuff at Jen's and was perfectly content to leave it there. Not as a "leave behind" (a la George Costanza), but just because he's lazy. And a first-class not nice guy. But in taking his crap to him, to his very nice apartment property on the other side of town, she lost 250 lbs. and got her name back.
Turd.
Him, not her.

I love the high bar in men's gymnastics. So much power and strength. Amazing.

Speaking of amazing power and strength, Stephen moves to Houston on Saturday.

I love the nightlife, I love the boogie.

It is after 4 am and I am awake. I wish this were not the case.
Like, a lot.

happies

I am feeling decidedly poopy, so this post is dedicated to things that make me smile. Enjoy!

*The most awesome Crystal Light in the history of the planet. Try this. You won't be disappointed.
*The Mamma Mia! soundtrack. I have been listening since I bought it and I love it for all of it's cheesy, musical goodness. (Have I mentioned that Mamma Mia! made me cry? I'm pretty sure that wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. First 27 Dresses, now this. I clearly should not see any additional comedies.)
*Belkin's neoprene sleeve is like a cozie for my laptop! What's not to love?
*Do yourself a favor and make this for breakfast one day. You will be very, very happy you did. Unless you have lactose issues. Then you'll be siiiiiick. Even then, you should really give it a whirl. It's that good. You can even pour it on the cat and eat it off of him. And I don't even like cats.
*Speaking of food, you might also consider having oatmeal one day. Not that instant mushy business, but the kind you have to cook. On the stovetop. It's actually quite tasty. Okay, it might be the tablespoon of brown sugar I hid in the bottom of the bowl, but whatever it takes man. Whatever it takes.
*While I was in Puerto Rico, Michele made pancakes with this baking mix one morning and they were perfect! I am a bit of a pancake lover, and these were light and fluffy and full of tasty goodness. The mix is pricier than many other, easier-to-find options, but the quality is better too. Give it a spin. Lemme know what you think.

Of course, this post is about stuff, and I know that stuff is just stuff, blah blah blah. The best things in life aren't things, yada yada yada.

But good waffles and a laptop cozie?
Sheer awesomeness.
(But not together of course. Silly.)

I have come to fully realize that I am a liberal hippie. I don't mean to be, but in contrast to my Dad and sister, I am so far to the left, they can't even see me. That's an entirely different post, though.

just because

I really like waffles.

That is all.

the button jar

I have a button jar. Do you?

When you purchase new clothes, the manufacturer almost always includes extra buttons. I have buttons from clothes dating back to high school. It's funny...I can look at some of the and remember exactly which shirt or pair of pants they belong to, and others seems as foreign to me as...something especially foreign. Just before I moved, I sat down and emptied the buttons from their individual plastic bags into a glass jar. (Sidebar: Do you miss glass jars? I do. I understand that it costs less to transport food when it's sold in plastic, but I miss glass jars. I don't know why. Metal coffee cans, too.)

I don't know how many buttons it was, but there were also extra threads from chenille sweaters, sequins and beads from this outfit or that...it was a neat experience to go through my buttons. I got to thinking, though, about me cutting the buttons off of each of those garments. I really, really enjoy shopping for clothes. Okay, that's not entirely true. I enjoy buying new clothes. Shopping is often hit or miss, largely depending on the size of my arse and my bank account.

When I put on a new outfit, I never cut the price tags off of an item until I'm ready to walk out the door. Not only is this part of me insulating myself against buyer's remorse, but I have a tough time committing to things. (Sometimes. Not with you. You, okay. But you, you're my favorite.) I have ideas that a pair of pants will go with a top I've got and sometimes I'm wrong. If it doesn't work, I will often take it back instead of hunt around for a matching piece. Not always, but sometimes. But once I'm ready for something to be mine, I'll cut the tags off and put the buttons in my sewing kit.

The buttons often hang around long, long after the item has made its way through my wardrobe. By the time the buttons fall off, the item is usually someone else's. When something is new, though, and I've got it on and I'm feeling like a million bucks, those extra buttons are the last thing on my mind. The manufacturer knows something that I don't want to think about though: at some point, the dress won't be new and it won't be in such good shape and it'll need attention.

I am like that dress! I sometimes feel fabulous, in touch with the Lord and with the people closest to me, like I'm firing on all cylinders in perfect sequence. In those moments, the thought that I'll need some maintenance to feel like that again (quiet time with the Lord, down time to recharge, quality food and fresh air, enough sleep) is the farthest thing from my mind. It makes sense though.

There's nothing like wearing freshly laundered clothing. Even when I am tempted to complain about laundry, I challenge myself to be grateful for the fact that I have enough clothes to wait three weeks (or four) between laundry sessions and that I've got clean water in which to wash my clothes. There's nothing wrong with enjoying a sharply pressed suit or a set of clean sheets or having to reattach a button.

Being in good repair is not about being new. It's about taking care of things. It's about taking care of myself and remembering that at some point, it's likely I'll need an extra button from time to time.

I let all of my buttons come off toward the end of my time in Arkadelphia. I ignored the loose threads that told me I needed to pay attention.

I should have paid more attention.


Who knew you could learn a lesson from a jar of buttons?
Oh, that's just me, you say? Oh.
Okay.

G'night.

ugliness and the iPhone (or, when the beauty is a beast)

I'm a tech nerd. Did you know that?
I read all kinds of information online about technology and where it's headed and trends in hardware and software development. I find it interesting, particularly given the place technology has in our day-to-day lives. I read the reviews of Vista before it launched, same with Leopard. I know that Windows 7 is already in development, as is the next Mac OS and that it will be called "Snow Leopard" (a seriously lame name, but what do I know? perhaps that's a joke of some sort. does satan's little brother [steve jobs] have a sense of humor? i get the sense he doesn't.) I realize that anyone could get this same info just barely paying attention to the Technology section in the NY Times, but I'm just saying that I'm a bit of a tech nerd.

I read all kinds of info about the launch of the iPhone last year and I was fascinated with the public's reaction to this product. I mean, for the love of Pete...it's a cellular telephone! The media covered it like it was the second coming of, oh, I don't even know what. The lines, the hype...then the price drop at the end of the summer. Ha! Paying to have the latest bit of technology is little more than a "nerd tax" or simply the price of having the latest and greatest.

I am also an avid blog-reader. Okay, maybe not avid, but I read a few blogs of people I don't know and will likely never meet because I find them interesting or challenging.  Some are secular in nature, but some of these bloggers are people working in ministry and it's always interesting and refreshing to me to see what it is they are doing professionally and spiritually (or what they're writing about those things, anyway). One of the bloggers is a very techy guy who is the proud owner of an iPhone. He loves and uses Mac products and seems to enjoy it. Another of the bloggers is also techy but not an owner of the you-know-what. I read blog numero dos tonight and the site's owner asked if people who were reading were gonna bite the bullet and get the latest iteration of the eye-fone. **Disclaimer: I have to admit that this blogger often gets under my skin. Not in a "crap-I'm-convicted" sort of way, but just the self-righteous/preachy tone I get from that site from time to time.** I sensed some self-righteousness afoot among the answers and sure enough, about four answers in, I got what I was looking for: a response that related the frivolity of such a purchase while people are starving to death.

Dang.

That was a buzzkill.

I was irritated at the two-edged-swordness of the response while I admire the heck out of it. I'm even more irritated because I am thinking about purchasing a new phone, and maybe even the one that came out yesterday. I have been challenged by other things along the same vein lately, conspicuous consumption and all that. How do I reconcile that as a believer? Living in an affluent area of an affluent suburb in the most affluent nation in the history of the world...how do I remember that I am to be a good steward...and then be that good steward?

I think the iPhone is a gorgeous bit of technology and craftsmanship. Stunning. Do I want one? Yes, I do. Do I need it? (Eh, let's move on to another question.) I know there's nothing inherently wrong with stuff. It's the place of the stuff in our lives that is the issue.


Second disclaimer: I think I'm in the midst of this existential crisis because I'm about to move all of my stuff into my sister's house and I'm suddenly wishing I had a whole lot less of it. And cause I'm in the middle of a permanent hot flash. Seriously, I haven't been the same since I went to Detroit last month.

And there's a part of me that's screaming: Are you kidding, Sanders? YOU DON'T HAVE A FREAKIN' JOB. Not only do you not have a job, you don't even have a clue about one you want. Get a grip you crazy broad and quit being so willing to believe what you see is what you need! (Sometimes my inner monologue speaks to me harshly. You get used to it, but sometimes she hurts my feelings.)

Okay. That's enough for now.

I miss my Mom. Especially today.