Oh well. I guess I'll make the best of it by making some white tea and loading my dinner with antioxidant-filled blueberries and calling it a night.
I suppose that's what I get for playing hooky from the flu season.
May 25, 2010
Sniffles
Oh well. I guess I'll make the best of it by making some white tea and loading my dinner with antioxidant-filled blueberries and calling it a night.
I suppose that's what I get for playing hooky from the flu season.
May 23, 2010
Saturday: A Story
I had a really bad headache on Friday night. As the Bible study wore on, it steadily (and rapidly) grew into a full blown migraine. I'm talking tightening-vice, squeeze your eyeballs out, sensory overload, sick to your stomach migraine. I managed to make it through the study, but I couldn't stay for the hang out time afterwards. I was just in too much pain. So, I don't have anything interesting to give you guys about Friday.
Saturday morning I woke up to a completely silent house. Everyone else was asleep in their rooms, dogs included, and I had free reign of a silent, video-game-free living room. So I wandered downstairs with my very slight migraine hangover to start flipping through the TV, searching for the right Saturday morning animation to wake me up.
I was still in the process of enjoying the quietness of my extra-full apartment when the phone rang. In an unusual act of good will, I actually answered the phone. It was one of the guys from my community group checking on my head. After establishing that I was feeling much better, he invited me out for some ice cream to finish a conversation we had intended to pick up after Bible study the night before.
We decided on Ice Cream Renaissance for our visit. It's this cool, artsy ice cream shop that makes the most delicious ice cream art. Really. The even call themselves ice cream artists. For them, it's all about the presentation. The fact that the ice cream is every bit as tasty as it is artful is just an added bonus. I've been there a few times and really like it, but I had never been there on a Saturday afternoon before. Apparently that's the time to go because there was one, MAYBE two, other people besides us in there. The perfect place for two non-coffee drinkers to meet for a chat. We talked for awhile about lots of things: church, ministries, our families, our friends, movies we like or absolutely despise. It was a lot of fun.
I'll be honest, though, my favorite part of the afternoon was at the end when we were walking back to the cars and he tried to find the right words to gauge my interest in getting together with him again sometime in the future. I can't say I've ever seen anyone fumble around for words like that before. Then he said "I'm so bad at this" and gave it one more try. It was rather cute. I told him yes, I'd like that. Then we said we'd see each other at church tomorrow and headed off to our other Saturday activities.
A few hours later, I drove up to my Grandma's house. As I walked in the door and tried to keep the barking, jumping, miniture dogs from using their freshly groomed nails to shred my new nylons, Grandma looked at me with delighted surprise and asked what I was doing over there. "Meeting you and mom for dinner." I replied, very matter-of-factly. Grandma was very excited; she didn't realize that mom had invited me to join their "girls night out, dinner and play" evening.
We went to Taste of Asia for dinner. What can I say, my family is rather fond of those yummy Chinese dishes. Mom and I are especially fond of the assortment of sushi that they carry. I had my first Coke in two days (which may account for the sudden migraine attack the day before) and all felt right with the world.
After dinner, we headed up to the college to get our tickets for the play. It was called "Doubt: A Parable" and we were curious to see what questions it was going to raise and then not answer (because you can't really expect something called "Doubt" to leave you with any kind of certainty in the end, can you?) Colynn would be meeting us at the college, so we wanted to get there early enough to get four seats together.
When mom went to the box office to purchase the tickets, she found out that they had no ushers for that showing. So being the financially-savvy woman that my mother is, she volunteer herself and her daughter to help usher (and thereby get the two of us into the show for free!) I had never ushered before, but it was pretty simple. Rows 1-3 by the door, 4-13 in the middle, 14-16 on the end, no row A, rows B-M in order going to the back of the theater. Mom and I each put a couple in the wrong seat only once. All other seat mishaps were their own faults.
The play was interesting. Just as suspected, there was no clear answer at the end. It left the story so ambigious that we were able to have a discussion afterwards about whether we believed the priest was innocent or guilty of the crime he was accused of (for the record, I prefer to still believe the best in the religious leaders, and feel confident that he was innocent. Mom, on the otherhand, was convinced that he was guilty. Interesting indeed)
After the play, I mentioned ice cream to my fellow show girls and we decided it would be fun for them to try something new and different, so we all went over for my second helping of Ice Cream Renaissance. YUM!
By the time I got home, it was late and I was too tired to write up the blog as I had promised Colynn I would, so instead I promised myself I'd "do it tomorrow" and quickly drifted off to a land filled with Chocolate, Honey Vanilla, Peanut Butter, and Strawberry flavored dreams. And I shall leave it up to your brilliant minds to determine the nature of those sugary sweet dreams. :)
Saturday morning I woke up to a completely silent house. Everyone else was asleep in their rooms, dogs included, and I had free reign of a silent, video-game-free living room. So I wandered downstairs with my very slight migraine hangover to start flipping through the TV, searching for the right Saturday morning animation to wake me up.
I was still in the process of enjoying the quietness of my extra-full apartment when the phone rang. In an unusual act of good will, I actually answered the phone. It was one of the guys from my community group checking on my head. After establishing that I was feeling much better, he invited me out for some ice cream to finish a conversation we had intended to pick up after Bible study the night before.
I'll be honest, though, my favorite part of the afternoon was at the end when we were walking back to the cars and he tried to find the right words to gauge my interest in getting together with him again sometime in the future. I can't say I've ever seen anyone fumble around for words like that before. Then he said "I'm so bad at this" and gave it one more try. It was rather cute. I told him yes, I'd like that. Then we said we'd see each other at church tomorrow and headed off to our other Saturday activities.
A few hours later, I drove up to my Grandma's house. As I walked in the door and tried to keep the barking, jumping, miniture dogs from using their freshly groomed nails to shred my new nylons, Grandma looked at me with delighted surprise and asked what I was doing over there. "Meeting you and mom for dinner." I replied, very matter-of-factly. Grandma was very excited; she didn't realize that mom had invited me to join their "girls night out, dinner and play" evening.
We went to Taste of Asia for dinner. What can I say, my family is rather fond of those yummy Chinese dishes. Mom and I are especially fond of the assortment of sushi that they carry. I had my first Coke in two days (which may account for the sudden migraine attack the day before) and all felt right with the world.
The play was interesting. Just as suspected, there was no clear answer at the end. It left the story so ambigious that we were able to have a discussion afterwards about whether we believed the priest was innocent or guilty of the crime he was accused of (for the record, I prefer to still believe the best in the religious leaders, and feel confident that he was innocent. Mom, on the otherhand, was convinced that he was guilty. Interesting indeed)
By the time I got home, it was late and I was too tired to write up the blog as I had promised Colynn I would, so instead I promised myself I'd "do it tomorrow" and quickly drifted off to a land filled with Chocolate, Honey Vanilla, Peanut Butter, and Strawberry flavored dreams. And I shall leave it up to your brilliant minds to determine the nature of those sugary sweet dreams. :)
May 11, 2010
Growing Up
I imagine everyone has one of those moments at some point in their lives where something causes them to stop and look at their life for what it really is. Maybe they realize how far they have come from whatever situation they started with; perhaps they wonder how they ended up so far from where they had intended to be. Whether they are pleasently surprised or surprisingly disappointed, the moment is usually accompanied with the question "how on earth did I end up here?"
My moment of reality came a few weeks ago in the form of a pair of pants.
No, this isn't a story of a magical pair of pants that binds me closer to my girl friends as we all move into new adventures and learn of life and love. That story has already been written (and quite well, by the way). Mine is a story of a 30-something woman who realizes that she is not who she once was and no where close to who she wants to be.
A few weeks ago, I went to put on my favorite comfy jeans when I realized there was a hole in them. Not the trendy kind of hole in the knee that I could wear with a colorful pair of leggings and pass off as the hippest fad. No, this was a frayed hole made of frequent wearing and washings and it was in a location that is neither trendy, nor hidable. I sighed a sigh of deep regret and went back into my closet to find a different pair. Unfortuntately I realized why those jeans were so often worn: since I crossed the 30 threshhold, I located some of the weight I had always managed to avoid in the past and none of my other jeans fit me anymore.
Well, except for one. One pair of tomboy-ish, super casual, blah colored pair of blue jeans.
I hate these jeans. I have no idea how they even ended up in my closet. There is nothing feminine or "cute" about them. The only shoes that work with them are my old, worn tennis shoes. Pairing them with a sexy top and high heels would just look ridiculous. And I have no other choice at the moment.
But it soon became apparent that this was not going to be a problem for me. As I started going through my closet, looking for tops to go with my blah-ish jeans, I realized that I was having little trouble finding equally blah shirts. It seems that lately, completely without my conscious knowledge of it, I had started defaulting to the blah casualness of my invisible junior high years.
And that's when the question slapped me in the face: How did I get here??? In college, I used to wear dresses all the time. In fact, just four years ago I was constantly looked at as the "fashionable" friend. When did I lose all that? When did I decide that it was okay to tuck my beautiful heels in the dark closet and be content with one simple pair of black flats? When did that become who I am?
And then I started to notice that it extends further than my wardrobe. My daily routine consists of "go to work, go home, go to bed" and nothing exciting happens between those "big events". I don't hang out with people anymore. I don't do anything fun, active, or creative. I haven't scrapbooked in ages. My apartment is overly disorganized. And one day, I drove up to my apartment and saw a strange guy playing with a dog in the yard and found out that I've had a new neighbor for about two months now and had NO idea.
This stuff does not make me happy.
So, what to do about it? I guess I have to make changes. But changing is so hard sometimes. And I'll be honest: I don't like doing it. Ever. But it must be done sometimes.
It's time I start acting like the responsible adult that I'm supposed to be.
My first major change has been to set my jeans aside and start pulling my pretty skirts and dresses back out. Actually, that's not too hard to change my thinking about since I do hate the only pair of jeans I can fit into right now, but it is requiring me to put a little more thought and effort in my dressing habits again.
I'm also trying to start small daily routines to get my home organized and hopefully keep it that way. This is a little tricky as I have to work around two playful dogs and three other people who have different styles of "cleaning" up after themselves. But I guess small efforts are better than no efforts. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself.
And I'm getting out of the house as often as I can. I take the dogs to the park, go to the young adults ministry at church, and I joined a bible study group. I'm meeting new people and hoping that will help me to find even more opportunities to get out.
There's even a thought in my mind that it might be nice to start cooking my own dinner at home once in awhile. But I don't want to get too crazy too soon. Baby steps.
Baby steps to the grown up life.
My moment of reality came a few weeks ago in the form of a pair of pants.
No, this isn't a story of a magical pair of pants that binds me closer to my girl friends as we all move into new adventures and learn of life and love. That story has already been written (and quite well, by the way). Mine is a story of a 30-something woman who realizes that she is not who she once was and no where close to who she wants to be.
A few weeks ago, I went to put on my favorite comfy jeans when I realized there was a hole in them. Not the trendy kind of hole in the knee that I could wear with a colorful pair of leggings and pass off as the hippest fad. No, this was a frayed hole made of frequent wearing and washings and it was in a location that is neither trendy, nor hidable. I sighed a sigh of deep regret and went back into my closet to find a different pair. Unfortuntately I realized why those jeans were so often worn: since I crossed the 30 threshhold, I located some of the weight I had always managed to avoid in the past and none of my other jeans fit me anymore.
Well, except for one. One pair of tomboy-ish, super casual, blah colored pair of blue jeans.
I hate these jeans. I have no idea how they even ended up in my closet. There is nothing feminine or "cute" about them. The only shoes that work with them are my old, worn tennis shoes. Pairing them with a sexy top and high heels would just look ridiculous. And I have no other choice at the moment.
But it soon became apparent that this was not going to be a problem for me. As I started going through my closet, looking for tops to go with my blah-ish jeans, I realized that I was having little trouble finding equally blah shirts. It seems that lately, completely without my conscious knowledge of it, I had started defaulting to the blah casualness of my invisible junior high years.
And that's when the question slapped me in the face: How did I get here??? In college, I used to wear dresses all the time. In fact, just four years ago I was constantly looked at as the "fashionable" friend. When did I lose all that? When did I decide that it was okay to tuck my beautiful heels in the dark closet and be content with one simple pair of black flats? When did that become who I am?
And then I started to notice that it extends further than my wardrobe. My daily routine consists of "go to work, go home, go to bed" and nothing exciting happens between those "big events". I don't hang out with people anymore. I don't do anything fun, active, or creative. I haven't scrapbooked in ages. My apartment is overly disorganized. And one day, I drove up to my apartment and saw a strange guy playing with a dog in the yard and found out that I've had a new neighbor for about two months now and had NO idea.
This stuff does not make me happy.
So, what to do about it? I guess I have to make changes. But changing is so hard sometimes. And I'll be honest: I don't like doing it. Ever. But it must be done sometimes.
It's time I start acting like the responsible adult that I'm supposed to be.
My first major change has been to set my jeans aside and start pulling my pretty skirts and dresses back out. Actually, that's not too hard to change my thinking about since I do hate the only pair of jeans I can fit into right now, but it is requiring me to put a little more thought and effort in my dressing habits again.
I'm also trying to start small daily routines to get my home organized and hopefully keep it that way. This is a little tricky as I have to work around two playful dogs and three other people who have different styles of "cleaning" up after themselves. But I guess small efforts are better than no efforts. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself.
And I'm getting out of the house as often as I can. I take the dogs to the park, go to the young adults ministry at church, and I joined a bible study group. I'm meeting new people and hoping that will help me to find even more opportunities to get out.
There's even a thought in my mind that it might be nice to start cooking my own dinner at home once in awhile. But I don't want to get too crazy too soon. Baby steps.
Baby steps to the grown up life.
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