Enough Christmas

I have definitely reached the tipping point of having had enough Christmas. Call me a Grinch, Scrooge, Curmudgeon, Whatever. It's not everything that I hate. I love the gifts I get to buy willingly. I love my tree. I adore all of the little white lights everywhere. It's just that I had the nightmare party last night that pushed me over the edge.

In my office of 7 people, the week kicked off with secret santa. A-okay by me. But then our office party last night required an appetizer, an ornament, and enough cookies for exchanging. In my office I tend to do the wrong things to fit in. I arrived with wine and cheese. Everyone else loves dips and wine cooler punch. Greg said supportive things about my fancy cheese, but I believe everyone else was afraid of it. At the ornament exchange I received a horrid crocheted angel. Greg said I did a poor job of hiding my distaste (but I was really trying). I further alienated myself by not finishing my wine cooler punch, stopping at one drink, and only taking home one of each cookie. Greg declared that I don't fit in at all, but he was a huge hit showing up with a bottle of Jack Daniels that he picked up on his wine mission for me. The same people are doing another party next week.

The request for, couldn't I just pick up 2 more gifts for Tuesday, come up with a mixer game, lead carols singing, and coordinate rides was a stretch. Showing up to a party with Greg in Parker the wrong evening added to pile. I've said no to 3 other parties this weekend. My sweet friends asked me to go tree hunting with them this afternoon. While I initially said yes because I love spending time with them, I realized that my Christmas fetching needed to be done.

Sorry reader, but this was therapeutic for me. If you feel the same spirit of Christmas malaise, hang in there! And say no.

Pranked

My school's home economics class makes the kids haul around fake mechanical babies that cry and record how well the kids do as responsive caretakers. Good idea. Today I walked into my office to find 5 screaming mechanical babies who were inconsolable. It was very stressful. Then I tried to return them (or 2 of them) to their classroom as inconspicuously as possible while the bellowing continued worried that if I ran it would trigger a louder response. This is what I get at work for not having children.

Must seek revenge. Let me know if you have great prank ideas.

Half

Being half-loved is like this-
Getting a half cup of coffee that's great at first sip but gets cold too quickly
Half one-armed side hugs that are the awkward domain of you-are-not-mine
The half-baked bread that's beautiful on the outside but a doughy mess inside
The not-half-bad of the project that was almost great

I would make this thing whole if I could (confessing I only believe 3/4 exists). Retail efforts work for minutes, having a good imagination helps when I'm bored, sweetness results in saying I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for my car, my clumsiness, my hair, cold hands, my wanting too much.

But half is better than none. (I think?)

Beautiful Dreamer

It's hard to know the difference between helping a kid set realistic goals and breaking apart the beautiful dreams of those raised on the song I Believe I can Fly. Quotes from last week:

"I'm thinking of taking a year off to work on my skating. Then I'll study something with medical marijuana. I don't like chemisty. Where can I do botany?" (aka pre-drug dealing)

"I'll go where I can get a swimming scholarship. I'm joining swim team for the 1st time in January."

"I want to be pre-med! It's been my dream for as long as I can remember." (Said by multiple students with GPAs below 2.5).

I hope they are all on their way to being the exception. The inspiration. The counter-example. If not, I told them to tuck community college away in the back of their minds just in case. And I gave them a piece of candy for remembering we talked about community college.

so cynical

So the old guys emails me. Reams and reams about his "ideal" relationship. How his biggest weakest is being too nice. And I think, "BiG, FaT, LiaR!" And I refuse to answer any additional questions about views on marriage and children. And say I will only meet with him if he comes on down to earth. Now I feel like the harsh city girl. It's almost like writing to Ken from 30 Rock.

What now?

If what you've tried hasn't worked, you're supposed to try new things. Yes?

I try to apply this logic to my dating life. This roughly means moving on to much older men, the recently divorced with kids plural, or felons. You must trust that I've tried a lot of other categories (divorced, Catholic, nothing in common with me, etc). So I'm corresponding with a 45-year-old. He's not a felon. And I have very mixed feelings. Are there other major categories I'm not considering? Is he sketchy if he's not looking at women his own age?

Where is the fine line between persevering and being a glutton for cliche, pathetic single scenarios? I hope I at least get credit for not owning a cat.

The Inner Evangelical

What do you get when you combine being slightly charismatic, pro-intellectual, having an evangelical background, and being a democrat? I'm convinced it's a frustrated Anglican or a secretive evangelical. My heart has been shrinking and burdened at the Anglican church trying to listen to sermons that discourage and have no linear progression. Revolting a little at the common saying that worship has nothing to do emotions. Sinking at the constant reminders that I'm a sinner and an American over-consumer. Frankly, usually a little bored.

So I strolled on over to a church in my neighborhood this morning. Among the hipsters with guitars and hair gel on stage old ladies danced in the front. The hour and a half passed quickly. I swayed and felt emotions. I didn't have to force the mumbling of another liturgical line. I didn't leave sad because I knew in advance I would be heading home to solitary lunch time. There also seem to be straight men in attendance who actually are involved in the church and in heavy lifting on behalf of others. I'm a sucker for that. Even if I can't share that I'm a big advocate of a national health plan. Shhhh....

For Olive and Tea

With vim that will suit for a cold Sunday night
We gather, their faces the source of good light

Pate down, hands busy to find Scrabble letters
I rive and I gather to make my thoughts better

Just questions, not bold to pronounce any answers
We hope to be prodigies, scholars, and dancers

One Olive of shaking and flame and aspire
One Tea of the rain and the quest (we conspire)

We will create more than the words that we'll gather
We'll carry the ponderances of all things that matter
This is the sum when the girls get together

Coming out of the polyester jungle

Whew! I made it through the week. Barely. Hosted by first big event with better-than-expected attendance. Stumbling into Blockbuster after work, I only had eyes for videos with beautiful fashion. Came home with Sex & the City and the first season of Mad Men. After the last few weeks I could go a very long time without seeing another printed polyester garment, sensible shoe or ankle tattoo. What have I become? And why is it so delightful to watch beautiful fashion while I sit around in my overalls? My weird indulgence. I never thought I cared about pretty clothes until they were gone and I missed them.

Young Life

When I first moved to CO I was a YoungLife leader on a crazy, disfunctional team. I left with a lot of hurt feelings, a sense of failure, and a reluctance to do anything in ministry. But now I feel called back.

This afternoon I met with an older couple who are area leaders for my school and got re-enlisted. They are the wise folks in charge, there are some very cute and perky young leaders who the kids will adore. I slide right in the middle as the volunteer to run the Bible study and help support the young female leaders.

God called Moses back to Eygpt. He called me back to YL. I hope this is the time I'm ripe to lead.

Being known

When friends show up at your doorstep with the following items, you know they know you pretty well. Yellow tea pot-candle-tequila-adventure magazine-golf supplies. It might not seem like it all fits, but it totally does.

This is the season for sitting outside by my fireplace and drinking wine. I have spent 2 evenings at this in the last week. I welcome fall with open arms.

Feeling uninspired to go to church alone or leave church alone, I took a pilgrimage up to the J. Crew outlet. Grey cords bought by my brother and boyfriend jeans I bought even though I should have waited until payday say Happy Fall to me. Hope your fall is off to a good start!

Birthday eve

Birthday eve got off to a smashing start. Pumkin spice syrup was back at Starbucks. Divine Tara gave me a perfect loaf of bread, lovely card, and bonus session. I went to the library, parked right in front, and found the meter was already paid for the time I needed. Arrived home to a mailbox full of very promising looking cards.

After a failed attempt at making a birthday cake yesterday, I tried again today with box mixes. The result is one lovely looking cake and one delicious disaster. I don't happen to love cake and have determined my shopping (3 times), chopping, baking, frosting, and dish washing are for naught. Next year will save time and money and serve ice cream. Tradition be damned.

Still, I believe this will be a good year.

Waking up

Hi friends. My blog is waking up again after this nap. Working with teenagers make life feel a little more like an adventure. So does having new experiences.

Yesterday I spent about 4 hours picking hops. I am not a beer connoisseur. I just have a yard that grows the vines in abundance. Greg asked if he could harvest them to take to a local brewery to add to the vat of Wild Hops Brew. We will get some free beer at experiment's end. As a result I have a terrible itchy rash all over both arms that refuses to go away. On the positive end I met several neighbors who came to inquire what I was picking as I balanced up on my retaining wall-- an old hippy guy who looks like a hobo and is very friendly, a deaf man accross the street, and a skater kid who wanted to try hops raw.

I have always fantasized about having a hobby farm. In my visions I grew pumkins or apples. Never would have guessed I'd end up with more hops than I can pick and one lonely apple at the top of my one fruit tree.

Sleeping

No, I haven't broken my blog writing fingers. This blog is just sleeping for a little while. Lately life is short on adventure and long on reflection. So I started writing a little on a more boring, reflective track. I admit it's the kind of crap I would never read myself. And it's the wrong picture to be painting in this happy blog frame- too lengthy and whining and blah, blah, blag. But the new muse has absolutely no sense of humor. My temporary address will be:

http://acornseason.blogspot.com/

Look forward to coming back here when adventures resume!

First Day Eve

Tomorrow is my first day of work at my new job. It will be a huge transition to start waking up 3 hours earlier, getting dressed up again, and trying to remember new names. I need to remember that the poor freshmen will be twice as nervous as I am when they start.

The Lost Discipline

Funny that it's called a fast when giving up food makes you slow down so completely. You think slowly and walk slowly and ponder instead of rushing into decisions. Your hands move more intentionally and you become aware of all of little motions they go through.

Fasting has been hard for me to understand because I know few people who practice it. I've only practiced it infrequently and for short periods of time. But now I feel called into a season of fasting. It feels like walking into a mystery because I don't know why I'm doing this or what it's supposed to produce. Fortunately my spiritual direction thinks it's okay to open this door with no resolution. What do you need from God? she always asks. This is the first time I haven't known.

The Price is Right

I got volunteered to be the official Run for Rwanda race day shopper. I'm not a strong math student, so this was a challenge. Math problem of the day:

If bananas at Sunflower Market cost $.49/lb, every banana is a different weight, and you need to spend a $25 gift card on said bananas, how do you know how many to get? I underestimated, went through the line twice, and still have $1.64 on the card. Good to know that if I ever got chosen for the The Price is Right I would never win the ugly canopy bed.

Name that Produce

I offer my apologies to the rain as I was blaming it for a dreary afternoon. I went to the farmer's market to pick up a friend's community farm share since she's away camping. I found treasure. Coming from the midwest, I feel like I should be better at name that vegetable, but aside from the general category of squash, these have me stumped. Can you name that squash?

Irish Day

The other part of Boston trails me. It's a very Irish day here. A morning for wearing braided hair, yard work, golf practice, and listening to the Once soundtrack. Then being shut in by persistent, dark rain to drink tea and read an Irish novel full of more rain, an asylum, religious wars, priests and secrets. I'll grant you that I can pass for Irish since I'm Scottish and English. But I had a lot more fun pretending to be Italian.

cure for feeling broke

Just back from Boston, I was feeling kind of broke. The TSA ruined my nice suitcase that I don't have $400 to replace. My tub is dripping. I have no more room in my little cabin box of a house to put anything away. The very smart dress sandals I bought last week broke the first time I wore them. Fortunately, Boston also provided a cure. Think like an Italian. The true cure was to make a great homemade meal. My skill will be my wealth. So I kneaded pizza dough. Made my own sauce with basil from my yard. Topped it with fresh mozzarella. I do feel better. And resourcefully clever.

Driven by an a curiously unknown to me before, I decided to visit a singles Sunday school class today at another church. I used to reject the idea of hanging with the love cast-offs, but today it felt wonderful to walk into a room where I would be normal. Even if it was a room mostly filled with attractive, smart women and some weirdo men. They were friendly, smiled at me, and didn't make me sit alone. And they went rafting yesterday- Bonus! The reward for my bravery was getting to join Polly and Me Gusto for an afternoon where I am treated like family. I loved pretending to be Italian today.

Do it Yourself

This week I learned how to make homemade vanilla and homemade cereal. My new fascination is working on making homemade facial solutions. I was a sucker a few weeks ago and spent $50 on a bottle of mask that I pretty much figured I could make myself with a visit to Whole Foods. Today I tried covering my face in mashed banana, letting it dry, wiping it off, then wiping my face with the inside of the banana peel. This makes my skin feel better than anything I've ever spent money on. Now if I could just make a homemade cure for allergies. I'm miserable after an evening in a friend's house with 2 cats. I don't know why all of my friends love to own such toxic creatures.

Another book for your reading list-- Moloka'i. It's about a girl who gets leprosy and goes to lives on a leper colony in Hawaii. Good story. Not depressing.

Leprosy, allergies, banana mask. I obviously have a lot of exciting things on my mind. Maybe tomorrow an interesting entry on hangers...?

grateful

I'm so grateful for friends today trying to help me find my way out of the crazy in the ways each of them is uniquely equipped to guide. Kimono's kind, gentle questions and concerns. The assurance that a friend will get me to the airport tomorrow. Lucky's express assurance that I am loved and of value. Birdie being my phone-a-nurse to assure me from San Antonio that my prescription really is making me crazy but that it won't last. I needed to hear that from a friend and not a stranger.

Rally

I spent today trying to rally and trying to find places to flee the inferno of my house for air conditioning. I haven't been sleeping well, and Sex and the City makes excellent company at midnight. I'm sure this was part of my inspiration as I spent the afternoon shopping, bought crazy wedge shoes with gold rings on them, and bought a very expensive product from the place where I got a facial that should have magical properties. I think I'm in danger of becoming a hedonist.

Lessons Learned:
- If you trip over a piece of equipment at the gym and really hurt your ankle, don't go to the meat heads at the front desk for help. Go to the Loaf n Jug. They will be nice.
- Try clothes on. Worse to own something cute that doesn't fit than the $8 shorts that do.
- If the man who gives you a facial reminds you of an old friend you will spend more money than you ought to.
- Dating soldiers who deploy with the infantry this year makes you feel patriotic but is sure to disappoint long-term.

Pretty profound stuff today. Maybe I'm dehydrated.

honesty

The woman who gave me microderm abrasion said that beauty hurts. Emmylou Harris says that love hurts. Right now buying ugly sweatsuits and giving up seems like it would feel good.

I have a friend who likes to pass out honesty in glaringly harsh doses of revelatory light. "I bet the guy you went out with last night thought you didn't have an athletic enough body type." Making up a better reason would feel good. Avoiding friends with feedback would feel good too.

Last summer at L'Abri my good mentor Jock said that when you're at the 21st mile of a marathon, stopping the run would feel good immediately. Because you wouldn't be a running. But then the deep regret of miles wasted would come.

I want to cancel the date tomorrow with the man 6 years younger than me. Because I want to quit. I will hopefully come up with an amazingly effective pep talk for myself by 6:30.

High School Flashback

I was with my date tonight hoping he wouldn't notice my post humidity in Texas acne. He was covering his mouth hoping I wouldn't notice any food stuck in his braces. Yes, I am still living the life the rest of you lived when you were 15. Awesome. Just add in the REO Speedwagon soundtrack.

What does it mean when someone keeps checking you out (eyes southward) in the middle of a date? What does it mean when they end a date with a one-armed hug? Please teen magazine, unravel the mysteries of my life.

Taste in Books

I will never claim to have great taste in wine or clothes or movies or high-end cuisine or paint colors. I can't tell if clothes fit right, don't know how to apply eyeliner and tend to believe there is only one best way to arrange a room of furniture. Despite these failings, I think I have excellent taste in novels. I've been searching for good choices for vacation. If you are doing the same, I wanted to put together some must-reads in addition to what's on my blog list.

READ ME!:
Ender's Shadow and Ender's Game (my departure into sci-fi)
The Double Bind (if you're intrigued by the Great Gatsby)
The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood (if you love Southern chick fiction- I do!)
The Namesake (if you grew up in an immigrant community)
The Book of Bright Ideas (if you like small-town charm)
Special Topics in Calamity Physics (if you love a deliciously complex novel)
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (mystery + international)

In spite of trying to keep up with running, my scale keeps whispering every time I approach it, one at a time please.

Raining

I was just about to go running when I stepped outside and found tremendous thundering and a little rain. Looks like it will get worse. I'm looking out the window of my office and wishing the Cat in the Hat would swing by to entertain me.

no, no, no, no, no, no, no....

I arrived back from Texas today after an extremely harrowing plane ride. Our small commuter jet circled the Springs for 45 minutes after a couple of scary attempts to cut through a storm. I have never been in such prolonged turbulence. The lady in front of me made use of several vomit bags. Everyone on the plane kept a barf bag close on hand.

Arriving home, I thought I was done with fright for the day. I watered my garden, gazed lovingly at the mountains, and gave myself a facial. Then I checked my email. There was an update from match.com on suggested future dates for me. One of the pictures looked very familiar but all out of context. It was a colleague related to my new job. No!!!! I always like to trump bad with stupid, so I sent an email entitled Is this a bad work dream?

Told Lucky tonight I'm designing a new collection of keepsake figures called Awkward Moments. They will feature scenes from my life starting with tonight.

Good day in Texas

It's a good day in Texas when you wake up and head for the Alamo. After remembering the Alamo with due respect, you stroll the river walk as slowly as possible since the temperature is 105. After agreeing with your friends that it's something you definitely won't do, it's so hot you end up going to Walmart for cheap water clothes to stuff yourself into a tube at the water park and get pushed down the river by 9-year-old boys.

You head up the road to the Grist Mill for a great Texas meal noting that only in this state can you find a restaurant that makes their own salsa and their own mashed potatoes. You stay for live music thinking-- where else besides Austin can you see such amazingly, heartbreakingly, great music for free with an audience of 18? Drive home singing Dixie Chicks at the top of your lungs. I was always told that in spite of not liking Texas since I had to move to Dallas a senior in high school that I would love Austin. So true. How can you not love a city where everyone flaunts stickers saying Keep Austin Weird.

storms brewing

I wrote a controversial post. Then I went outside and saw that storms were brewing. Came in to hit "delete." Hot weather makes me cagey. No storming necessary here.

I went garage sale-ing (I'd rather making it sailing) in the Old North End today. I found some antique windows that will become art objects and a vintage white Swiss dot 30's era dress. I was very tempted by a fur shawl that my friends claimed I had no occasions to wear. I may be having Great Gatsby delusions.

Sticky Mango Rice

This week is about having a wide range of experiences-- power tools to pedicure, flea market to driving range. Southern cooking to Thai dessert. I had a good night of wonderful conversation and great food with Tea & Metro. Here is the recipe for Mango Sticky Rice in my own imprecise words:

Locate Rice. Unable to find sticky varieties at King Soopers, I opt for sushi rice. Soak enough of this to make 4 cups in water overnight. Drain out water and reserve. Steam rice as directed on package. I use that leftover soaking water again to steam the rice.

Sauce:
1 can coconut milk
8 T. sugar
2 t. salt

Bring this to a boil. Reduce to simmer. Simmer until slightly thick. Pour some of this over rice to let liquid absorb for 30 minutes.

Heap rice on plates. Top with additional sauce and sesame seeds. Serve with mango. You will have leftover sauce unless you make 1/2 the quantity listed above. What else are you going to do with a whole can of coconut milk? Cheers!

Southern Comfort

Yesterday I found myself in need of comfort and wanting to avoid the usual choices- frantic activity, Greg, or ice cream. I was fortunate to turn on the TV and find Our Lady of American Comfort, Paula Deen. I've always wished to have an aunt just like this woman. Just hearing her sweet southern drawl calms me. I think it's the mixture of her cooking, her kindness, and her acceptance of herself.

Wanting to wrap myself in her like a blanket, I went to the library to pick up her biography. She has a pretty rough story- told with lots of humor, love, a little cussing, and some great southern recipes. I get convinced that if I could make a really great banana pudding, all would be better.

This is fitting with a general southern theme since I've decided to dub my neighborhood Little Appalachia. Both my next door and my accross the street neighbors have pierced nipples, and I've spoken to 2 gentleman in the last 24 hours who are missing several teeth.

I am a walking tornado

I had never owned a power tool until today. Never used one really. I took junior high home ec instead of shop. When I moved into my house I was dating a man who drilled holes for me. The closest I've ever come is probably owning a mini-food processor. It's dangerous. After seeing what it does to carrots, I'm sure I should use safety goggles to operate it.

But with a yard comes the necessity of tools. I thought I would skirt the issue entirely by mowing my modest lawn with a push mower. The mower, while adorable, left big ugly edges of tall grass. So today I bought a trimmer and extenion cord to use for the leaf blower I picked up the other week.

The first roar of the trimmer was a little intimidating. I underestimated and created a few bald spots on the lawn. I was just getting the hang of it when I accidently caught the cord in the trimmer. Oops! Then I tried the leaf blower. The sense of power was amazing. The machine roared and pine needles and ant hills scattered. I felt like a walking tornado. I'm sure I will resort to using this tool again on days of feeling powerless. It's tempting to set up little village scenes with plastic figurines and demolish them. I maybe understand men and their fasination with power tools a little bit better now.

father's day...

...has me thinking about inheritance. I've studied the inheritance of the 12 tribes of Israel. I've read East of Eden. I can't square of the beliefs my crazy fundamentalist parents have of legacy with those stories. My parents have been fairly successful. Their suburban Chicago home is paid off. They each own a used Lexus and spend free time travelling. Nothing flashy, but they're in good shape.

Last summer my brother told me they're not leaving us anything in their will. Their estate will be divided into 4 parts. Each child will then designate a charity to donate that money to that falls within the guidelines my parents have pre-determined. They've only announced this to my brother. Aside from that, they've asked me several times if there are objects I want. Ask now, or it's gone. The only item I wanted turned out to be the first gift my dad gave my mom- a jade bracelet. She lost it. I wish that instead of asking me to ask my parents would choose something special for me just like God chose something special for each of his tribes.

This stream of thought has spilled over into prayer ideas. Should I keep asking for things I want, or should I just hope and expect that God has a special inheritance for me that he's carved out in his will for me? Better than what I would ask for. No conclusions on this yet.

garden

When you have your own garden you can cut whatever flowers you want to. These are some I cut today. Unmerited bounty for me.

I've been listening to country music a lot. I always thought of it as wholesome family fare. But the recent hits tend to feature 2 themes-- how excited the men are to have sex with their woman and red neck pride and swagger over trucks, cheap beer, and fried foods. I do admire that optimism.

western slope

I'm back from an amazing tour of the Colorado Western Slope. It was a beautiful trip. I'm more grateful than I can say to live here and have a reason to tour colleges in resorts towns. What if I lived in Indiana and had to tour their Western slope? Yuck. Highlights were definitely Gunnison and Durango. I want to go back. Soon. CO counselors also make excellent road trip companions. In spite of having to decide group norms, everyone was positive and easy-going. The men suffered through our Mama Mia sing-along, and everyone cheerfully lugged their bags into shared dorm rooms. In my next life I may go to college at Ft. Lewis.

Returned to my garden and my monster yarrow have grown up to my shoulders. Tried to golf again and am ready to renounce my Scottish heritage.

unspiritual

It's Sunday and I'm feeling particularly non-spiritual today. Church was boring and long. I wanted to throw paper airplanes. Maybe I should figure out what's eating at me, but I would rather watch old episodes of America's Next Top Model and take a nap.

On Friday when I turned on my TV, I discovered that converter boxes are a big fat lie and do nothing. After some guidance from Lucky, I made several calls to comcast in search of cheap cable and internet. It took a couple of calls and a lot of negotiating to different salepeople to get someone to confess to having a basic plan with no frills. My cable and internet install guy came yesterday and said I have the cheapest plan he's ever seen. Wonderful small victory for me!

growing stuff

I thought I would be bored this summer, but I'm discovering I'm good at filling the time. I got brave enough to turn over a section of dirt and wildflowers in the back to start my own little experimental patch. Nothing too brave to begin with- hostas, lupine and red fox. The rest of the yard is all CO practical with grasses and little water required, but this patch aspires to be Washington. I also planted some herbs.

Do you have a favorite quote from a friend? My friend Meg once said that when she was little she had the biggest crush on Almanzo from Little House on the Praire. That tickles me. She asked if I shared her affection, but my admiration is all for Charles Wilder who knew how to do just about everything. It makes me wish current day survival skills required more than being a good shopper. I was making lemonade this morning from frozen concentrate and brewing iced tea. It occurred to me that it's rare to be served those beverages in other than a powdered form.

misc thoughts

Even though the guy at the iphone store promised the device would make all my dreams come true, I've found it won't blog and I'm tired of those darned tiny buttons. Thoughts round-up:

There's nothing more boring than being trapped in mingling where everyone is travel bragging-- dropping names of countries they've stepped foot in like it's a hint of a relationship with a celebrity. The art of storytelling is a gift I hugely admire. I was amazed to hear my friend Dan could tell way better stories about a client's crazy, cluttered house (think huge amounts of art and half-dresed child) than anything I've heard of Costa Rica. I confess to not always being a great conversationalist. Sometimes I just want to work with people-- create something from our hands side-by-side instead of trying to think of another clever thing to say or ask. I loved that aspect of L'Abri since my school work is so solitary.

I had a dream last night where I was the Queen of Acorns. That's all on that topic.

Back to conversation. I got together with 3 teacher friends this morning to walk and eat and pray. This prayer was so sweet and deep and long-needed. The whole year of small group gatherings meant less than this hour of no-hurry and listening and hearing. I'm so blessed to know these women who really hear God. Hoping you hear today too!

adventure searching

I feel like since I've started this blog I should revise the name to The Mundane Life of Hazel Cade. Life has been a little short on adventure lately. There was a time when City and I had a rule that we would set a limit on only doing one wild, impulsive thing per year. Then it become a goal-- to do a least one wild thing per year. I've now tired of dating adventures and settled into a vocation and house. I've done my skydiving, summers at national parks, working at a ranch, nose piercing, hair dying, seedy club exploring, blind dating, and white water kayaking. What does this leave?

At small group last night there was a couple promoting short-term missions to tribal villages. This is something I have not done. Is it bad to feel the conflict of wanting to go as an adventure even when I know money spent for missions accomplishes a lot more when sent to national workers? My plane ticket could probably cover the salaries of a few workers for a year. Hmmm... I need to think more on that.

envisioning myself

I ran the Bolder Boulder yesterday. I was surprised to find it wasn't agonizing and had a pretty good time. I do events like that and for moments envision myself as a runner who loves nothing more than getting out for 6 miles a day.

I took my golf lesson on Saturday. I did okay and envisioned myself as a golfer with a wardrobe full of collared shirts, a lot of drinking in the morning, and a husband who drives an Audi.

Reality-- I will probably continue to jog my 3 miles and golf when I have friends who are golfers.

Idea-- Design a new modern pentathalon. It should be jogging, golfing, biking, landscaping, square dancing. I could train for that.

Outfits

I went to see Angels & Demons yesterday. I give my fundamentalist and cultural elitist friends permission here to disapprove. I loved it and think that the protestant church should have more rings, more secrets, more art (in addition to dewey-eyed Precious Moments and Thomas Kincaids), more archives, and better priest outfits.

I start golf lessons tomorrow with a fashionista friend and am already falling behind in the dressing like a golfer department. I believe she has a new golf wardrobe of choices to wear to each of our five lessons. I own 1 shirt with a collar. It has a very small hole in the shoulder from when I caught it on a piece of the football concession stand. I hope I don't get kicked out. I'm definitely going to buy the outfit this young chap is wearing after I graduate from golf school.

new place

I'm ready to say good-bye to the last 2 years of commuting up to a world I left behind a long time ago. Lower-upper class suburbia is where I came from. Here I drove with a knot in my stomach every day to work knowing I was never enough to return to that starched and pressed place. Every conversation here has included a competitive edge. Can you be funnier, fitter, more devoted to your job, more popular, louder, a better shopper? Do you have gorgeous, athletic, academically advanced children?

I may be headed for a job where I can use my real laugh (not the forced one) and be an analytical introvert without fear of not being cool enough for the Mean Cheerleaders (the women in my dept.) This fact actually makes me want to cheer! Someone might ask me a question about my life. That would be a change of pace from my life of anonymity here.

finally the incline

My two big first-time events for the summer so far are hiking the Incline and mowing the lawn. The Incline (1 mile of steps that go straight up Pikes Peak) is something I've been fixin' to do for the last 4 years. I completed the Incline Friday at a snail's pace without any of the rumored screaming muscles people claim you get. I think they say this to secure their parking spots at the trail head.

Side note: I could get away with a lot more if I adopted a Texas vocabulary where fixin' to means I'm actively engaged in good intention. In TX this is almost as good as actually starting. Unfortunately with other TX vocab, it's hard to sprinkle in used of neked- no clothes on and ill intent (vs. naked- just no clothes on) into everyday conversation. (take notes here Birdie)

My career in lawn mowing started late because I grew up with a brother who was the family mow-man, and I just now have a patch of grass about 10 feet by 8. This is an excellent starter-lawn. I'm the kind of person who would run over my toes with a real mower, so I'm starting out with a rusty, antique push mower from the 40's. Check out my shrinking carbon footprint. Actually, I believe the neighbors are saying, "check out that crazy lady throwing her whole body against that antiquated, barely working neandrothal contraption." Still, I'm proud of my efforts. What have you tried this summer?

Cheese Wedge Hospitality

I got an invitation this week to a non-event. Basically, a friend said, "I've got a wedge of good cheese and some fig spread. I won't clean. You won't dress up. We'll just have wine and cheese and good conversation. Come." So we sat under a string of Christmas lights talking about how great it would be to hold a membership in a cheese-of-the-month club and our feelings about men and facial hair. On a Friday night after a long work week, I can assure you that this was better than an event.

I've had some good conversations lately with friends about hospitality. We get intimidated by the standards our moms set from their great dinner parties. We'll have people over a few times a year for big events. But aren't the great hosts the ones who extend a hundred little non-event invitations? Come on over when my kitchen is not clean, the bras from the washing machine are hanging over the door, and a mysterious smell is coming from the sink.

Everyone these days is too busy for more commitments. I end up especially grateful for friends who are willing to do spontaneous, everyday life with me. Metro has room for last-minutes walks or shopping and wants to take golf lessons together. Keen sends last-minute invitations. Lucky swung by the other week for a dinner of whatever we could both pull together last-minute.

I had dinner last night with some older women with the same complaint. We're so busy, but we want to get to know people in a way that doesn't feel like another calendar obligation. I ask people every week to walk with me. I need to remember to just keep asking, find people who have room for spontaneity, and offer my own cheese wedge hospitality.

asking cautiously

Never ask the women of BSF to pray for something you're not sure you want. You might ask for wisdom in dating. Then your friend Barb would come along and remind you of the journey you're on. The next day your spiritual director could push you towards your future. Beth could call on your way home and talk about something God told her that reminded you of something God told you. Joanne could sit down next to you an hour later and out of nowhere decide to speak into your life.

I'm listening to country music today because I changed everything with Greg last night. We sat in my front yard watching the sunset (my first from my new yard). I told him we might want different things. We might need time to think about it. We decided to just meet once a week as friends. He looked relieved. I'm praying this decision leads into the Promise Land and not more desert wandering.

Thanks to the friends who God uses to speak to me.

rock and a hard place

I told my spiritual director I was between a rock and a hard place. She requested a metaphor revision. She thinks I'm in a situation more like a baby's head in the birth canal- kind of gross but hopeful. That all of this inescapable pressure is what's making me arrive-- giving new birth. I really hope this is true because I'm making one of those terrifying decisions right now that can push you out into a place of space and possibility or into a space of huge regret.

old story, new wedding

Last night my sweet friend Susan married a really great man. They're the real deal. Met at church, dated over a year, sought out a lot of counsel, have never slept together. It was a beautiful, hopeful event. Good, good people. Joy everywhere.

I didn't know anyone attending the wedding, so Susan took mercy on me and asked Randy to invite a single (hot!) co-worker. The night played itself out as usual. I was sitting at a table alone. My friend's brother's father-in-law joined me, flirted with me, and was my dance companion for the night. The single protestant men my age hugged the wall, terrified of the dance floor.

There's nothing like being around strangers who are uncomfortable dancing to make me lose my inhibitions. I requested Sweet Child of Mine, danced like a fool, and did my fake version of swing with the nice man 20 years older than I am.

I also discovered being guest book attendant is a great gig. I got listed in the program, received a thank you gift, got a corsage, didn't have to pose for photos but still got a nice corsage. And I got to wear a cute black dress instead of the ugly, purple satin ones the bridesmaids got stuck with.

The wedding made me want to break up with Greg and date a protestant more than ever. Until, again, the protestants refused to dance. Jesus wouldn't have been happy. He talks about playing music while folks crossed their arms and refused to celebrate. Was Jesus actually a happy catholic with the wine and the dance moves and loud celebrations?

fly below the radar

I woke up today with my stomach feeling weird and lingering annoyance at Greg last night. 1st thought- do I have swine flu? 2nd thought- why does the man who forgets to buy me anything for Christmas or Valentine's day think it's a good idea to mention needing to go out this week and get his ex-wife a gift for mother's day? Ugh...

I have been reprimanded by a parent for interrupting after 10 minutes of tirade to the say issue she was mad about had been resolved. Several others are mad about schedule change policy.

I don't officially believe in astrology, but I'm just going warn my fellow Virgos out there-- fly below the radar today.

Summer Preparations

I've been taking a vacation from blogging because I've been too busy getting ready for summer. Being from Chicago, it takes a little effort to get out of hibernation mode. Things I've started:

1. I bought patio furniture. More exciting than it actually sounds. I went to KMart last night and my cashier told me she'd have to run to the back to get the box since the security man was just stabbed. I guess some guy tried to shoplift, got caught, and then punched and stabbed the man who caught him. The great thing about Colorado Springs is that the same number of cops show up for a stabbing (2 cars) as show up for a routine traffic stop. Greg's first reaction-- "I really need to buy you a gun."

2. I decided to do the Boulder Bolder. My mind is willing but my flesh is weak and wants to stop and smell and tulips everywhere we go jogging. Must find more motivation.

3. I have a yard I must now maintain and have been playing Weed or Flower? all week. I can recognize dandelions and clover as invaders, but otherwise could be watering and nuturing whole beds full of lovely weeds because I'm so excited to see green springing up.

Asking God to behave

First thing- I got a job for next year and will be a college counselor at a school that's a huge departure from the piece of suburbia I'm camping out in now. I'm relieved and happy!

Thoughts today--This year I've had 2 opportunities to study the Old Testament. I'm doing a BSF study on the Life of Moses with conservative ladies, and I'm reading I Samuel with a church small group. The BSF project makes you a true student of the OT. We've followed the Israelites from captivity to freedom to thirst to fire watching to being sent into battles they couldn't have felt in any way prepared to fight. We've studied intricate law and rules on sacrifice. And when there are questions we don't understand, the ladies smile and nod and say, "you just have to trust God has something good up his sleeve."

Then the small group. It's been God on trial every week. Who is this crazy, uncivilized God? He could not possibly appear through mediums, or raze cities with innocent children, or make people fall dead for one-time sins. There is tremendous disapproval over God acting savagely and out-of-control.

This puts me in touch with 3 things that have been on my mind:
1. I'm not comfortable with the wildness of God. I want rewards when I'm good. I expect to be punished swiftly when I'm bad. I want answered prayers, healing, and defeat of death for the good side.
2. I'm longing for the wildness of God. To meet men who are fierce, masculine like him. Who are who they are regardless of my fickle, changing ways. In charge. A world full of unpredictable possibilities and adventure.
3. We're bad at studying the Bible. I would like to just read the fun parts, but it messes up the whole story when you take pieces out of context. Tea and I discuss this lately. We just want to read the stories that resolve without reading the difficult parts building up to the climax. I need to be a better student.

shoveling

Today I wore my favorite comfort outfit to work-- black t-shirt and overalls. I ran into a friend who asked if I was heading to the ranch today. Nope. Just at work shoveling shit. Glad he understands me.

Reading the Pioneer Woman makes me feel like there are stories to be told surrounding meals. This past weekend I had my family in for Easter. I think I had the makings of new traditions. For Good Friday I made cheese fondue, Thai chicken skewers, salad, and chocolate covered strawberries. Makes me think about having a family from Chicago and living spread over several states. We're not particularly ethnic. We've all been to other countries and eat liberally from other traditions. Good reason to have Thai and Swiss together. A lot of friends say My Big Fat Greek Wedding reminds them of their families. It reminds me of my family too, and we're the Millers.

Easter was church set-up team friends, breakfast burritos, and chocolate crepes. French and Mexican. Rugged and sophisticated. My church is a bit artistic and crazy for my family, but I thought they were among the prettiest people there with their nice suits and city affectations. How did I end up among this tidy, successful bunch? How did I end wearing overalls to work today?

Family

My family packed into the car and headed up the road to Denver to fly far away. This time I was ready to pack myself with them. Maybe it was because today was just like Chicago weather anyway. Maybe because my dad and brother fixed my broken house. Maybe because my mom helped cook. Or I had company all weekend. I lasted 30 minutes in solitude before jumping in the car in search of human contact. I love Colorado and my mom's religiousity drives me crazy, but if my family ever centralizes, I'll join them.

Monday

I had just a few appointments today, so thought it would be leisurely day of checking email and making few personal calls. But Monday struck with a vengeance. I had a mom in tears about her daughter running away (who claims mom kicked her out and only wants to steal her baby), call from a parent whose daughter was admitted to a psych ward, a student whose dad beat him up last night, and a parent requesting a 504 plan to make college easier. I managed to get it all handled today. No sweat.

Then left work early to visit the student at the psych place. I drove out of my way, parked, checked into 3 buildings to get a visitor badge. Then I got told I wasn't on the visitor list (parent said he would add me) and it wasn't visiting hours (I arrived specifically at the hour the parent told me to come since he wasn't planning to visit his daughter at all this week). I got sent away.

Parents are my least favorite demographic today. My favorite demographic is big Pacific Islander counseling mentor. The guy I interned for in Monument came to my rescue today with good job leads! Hope your weeks are off to an entirely promising start.

Reinventing myself

The job search process always brings forth the opportunity to reinvent yourself. I've sought out some feedback from friends, and this is what I have so far:
1. Become a therapist- I believe this requires a client list-yikes! 2. Go work at an international school- interesting- would require renting out my house 3. Join the army and be counselor for them (I admit this submission is mine for if all else fails- would they actually take me?

Let me know if you have any other creative ideas. I believe it's a good omen when I go for coffee in the morning and Sumatra is available, so today should be a good one.

I won't pay less than full price- Vegas II

Monday morning we woke up with renewed determination to succeed in Vegas. The only thing standing in our way was a little 2-hour presentation on a timeshare we signed up for. It seemed like a great deal at the time. If we could make it through the 2 hours of refusals we would get a free breakfast, half price show tickets, a 2-night cruise, two buffet tickets, and $25 towards food or gambling at the hotel. We hopped on down to the lobby at 9:15, ready for coffee and free breakfast. 45 minutes later we were still being "processed" at the condo office. The free breakfast was donuts, and we were told the actual presentation would go until about 2:00. That was a turning point for us. God help the man in the tie trying to keep us from the pool. We doubled-teamed the sales staff in venting our anger and were quickly placed back on a bus to the hotel where we got laughed at for being the gulible girls from Colorado Springs.

Things looked up as we focused on our strength in Vegas vacationing- attire. We had stopped in Utah for new swimsuits at Target and dancing dresses at Ross. We enjoyed blissful hours by the pool, followed by an almost too good to be true $25 steak dinner at the stupid castle hotel, than put on party clothes. We found the major dance club with lines out the door and had our first experience with a club where people actually did have to be on the list to not wait forever to get in and the beautiful people turned out in mass. We got in, discovered we can't dance to techno music, and headed to Tao. Very cool, but hard to get hit on in a city where all of the other women are half-naked.

The amazing thing about Vegas is that nobody looks happy there. You can sit on a bench for 15 minutes and notice that no one smiles. They all just look stunned by the lights and the booze and dizzying array of casino pits. We had fun, but Barb and I were ready to head down the road the next day. We didn't have time to take the pole dancing classes we wanted, but maybe next time.

2 Classy Ladies Hit Vegas

I can't tell the whole story in this blogpost-- so probably more to come with documentation from Barb's camera. The brief version--Vegas. Wow. A whole lot of boobs and neon and sounds. A lot can go wrong when two Colorado Springs gals enter Sin City. Examples from our first night:

We feel so flattered when club guys asks if we want to be on the VIP list for nights at the MGM and Bellagio and conclude among the frumpy tourists that we are the beautiful people. They say pride goes before the fall, SO... We show up at MGM to head to the front of the line for the party-- only to find there was no list. We were just lured in being the only women to show up at a sparsely crowded sports bar. Leaving, we're offered admission to Brittany Spear's favorite club if we're willing to dress up for the wealthy men and tip the ticket man $40. We proudly told him that we were on a lot of VIP lists for free. Undaunted, we head towards Coyote Ugly because a lot of men were in that line. They promise free entrance in the VIP line and free shots. We walk in and start looking for the free shots line. Turns out they pour the liquor right down your throat if you're willing to jump up and dance on the bar. Ohhh... free drinks on the bar not at the bar. We quickly abandon that mission and head to the House of Blues to dance. Finally success! We're gettin' down with the tourists and think Sweet Child of Mine is bringing out our brilliant dance moves. 10 minutes of bliss before the main act returns to the stage. In the tightest of leather (vinyl?) pants and a lace shirt, the Prince impersonator takes the stage with his review show, complete with slutty bride dancer.

I hadn't mentioned that it took us about 30 minutes to find our room in the Luxor, awkwardly hauling around ridiculous amounts of luggage up and down elevators and accross the casino floor. Or that we thought we could get half price tickets to a comedy show without selling our souls. But those are longer stories.

I now get why when bright-eyed us told friends where we were headed for spring break, they shook their heads in disbelief followed by smirking.

Verdict

I found out today that my work contract isn't being renewed for next year. The most helpful quote from meeting with the principal was, "you're very successful with the at-risk population. That's not who we cater to here."

Hazel goes to Vegas

Another teacher and I had this great plan to find cheap last-minute fares for spring break. We thought starting to search the weekend prior assured that our confident spontenaity would lead us to beaches. Turns out the only great fares spring break week fly to cities where Americans get kipnapped a lot these days. That was more adventure than we wanted to sign on for.

Plan B-- Now we're planning to driving to Vegas on Saturday. I know I'm not a Vegas-type person. I have no stillettos, sequined clothing, or items suitable for clubbing. I don't love crowds, staying up all night or crude stand-up. But I still need to see what all the fuss is about. And I lvoe great hotels and novelty in general. Part of our plan is to stop at the Vegas Ross on our way into town to help us start looking the part as clogs and fleece will not suit for this trip.

Quarter slots- here we come!

changing collars

I grew up in a very white collar community with parents from squarely blue collar backgrounds. They were self-made. I was always mystified by aunts who watched home shopping networks and drank from huge plastic mugs of Coke and cousins who hunted. I'm sure they were just as mystified by the golf, tea, and public television at our household.

Now I feel like I live between worlds. I have my white collar MA and a pay scale that affords a blue collar car and neighborhood. Last night I went to a party with all ex-military enlisted. Oddly, I found that I fit in. Much more than I could with the white collar women of the pilates, perfect jeans, and criticism of little league coaches.

Greg wants me to take gun lessons since I live alone. Back in my white-collar life I would totally oppose such extreme measures. Ah, the luxuries of assuming you'll always live in safe neighborhoods. Oddly, the idea is growing on me. And my partner in crime for spring break is an NRA member. Does this make me a complete collar convert?

uncomfortable

I'm trying to get more comfortable with being uncomfortable. I would never change the status quo of the bad things I'm comfortable with otherwise. Right now I'm comfortable dating someone I won't marry. I'm comfortable with the accumulation of minor disrepairs in my house that I can pretend not see so I don't have to find or trust a subcontractor. I feel good about lifting the amount of weight at the gym that doesn't make my arms shake or my face contort.

Unfortunately, the Pharaoh has spoken and the comfortable is now verified as wrong and dead-ending. I have to Let My People Go into desert territory feeling unsure of my livelihood. Like a good Israelite I'm doubtful and imagining myself suffering and poverty-stricken. On betters days I see myself as the main character in Christy heading into an unknown I'm meant for.