still.at.work.

everyone else left over an hour ago. hate on this computer. hate. need stress release. brother-wedding in socal leaving tomorrow could be either big stress release or cause of spontaneous combustion. pray it is the first.

i do have to tan (or freckle, if we're going for accuracy) at two so i will be gone by then even if it means no one gets paid next wednesday. and am hungry. tummy grwols in sympathetic frustration with my brain. hate computer. hate.

all I want for Christmas is to never see another sugar cookie ever never ever

Last night I saw several friends from highschool for the first time in over a year. The last time was for Dana's baby shower, and that adorable little one is now toddling around her kitchen. It was good to see them. And we made a million sugar cookies! Seriously, so many. And DID YOU KNOW they make neon food coloring? Some of the things we said/did made me happy that I would have chosen the same friends over again:

We made aliens, and wrote sloppy names on cookies for people who weren't there, and made fun of each other, and listened, and really just didn't care that we hadn't seen each other much in the last seven years. We just hung out and had fun. No round-the-tables of how each person's doing or deep conversations. I think we were a third of the way into the evening when I found out one of them had gotten married about six months ago to her long-time boyfriend. Not too many remember-whens except to laugh at each other. It was fun, and a little strange, because we seriously all look almost completely the same. I still like my friends.

Ahh, nostalgia. And now: self-reflection. What a cheesy way to end the year.

Spending time with these people makes me realize how much I've morphed over the years. I'm still myself, definitely, but sheesh, I wasn't even into country music yet in high school. At friend-gatherings then I'd keep most things inside, standing by with an amused smile on my face. Now I blurt out whatever comes to mind, minus profanity.

I'm comfortable with who I've become. I have no fear. No regrets thus far. Thanks be to God.

In Review.

Most people I know make new year's resolutions. Well, I kind of make quarterly goals. What? I work in accounting and a lot of people I know are still in college. It makes sense to follow a quarterly schedule. And perhaps I'm unwilling to let on that my life is now measured more in years than in semesters or summers. And it IS a lot easier to achieve new year's resolutions when you are used to doing so all year round. The following are my fall goals and achievments which have sat on my desk at work for the past 3 1/2 months:

1. get skinny
halfway done
2. move out
done
3. do some serious bible study
ummmm
4. write more letters
don't think I wrote any
5. eat well
halfway done
6. improve posture
slouching as I write this
7. excel in my job
doing better even though I should be working right now...

Obviously I didn't do so well. Perhaps I should only choose three for the winter quarter? This will take some serious thought. I did decide a long time ago that I do much, much better at intangible goals (such as do better, improve, less, more) than tangible goals (percentages, amounts, 5 times a week). So I'll stick to intangibles for winter. And choose 5 maybe. Cause for reals yo, if I accomplished all my goals I'd be bored.

PS been working on a post about the latest trip to Redding. Forthcoming. Busy busy busy busy times are being had by all.

Bluhuughyeckmeh

Not sure that there's really more to say than that. The last couple of weeks have been a whirlwind that I've moved slowly through, dragging my feet. There's not much else to do in a whirlwind. So much going on for the Christmas season, which will definitely be fun but the current attitude is a little blah. Sometimes I don't like myself verymuch.

Reflection: Thanksgiving was awesome with the family. My cousins and my sister crack me up. I am super super super thankful for my friend Sarah who came to visit and help me endure the family-ness. She even came to the bridal shower we threw my sister-in-law. That, by the way, turned out fairly nice as showers go. So anyways Sarah and I had a restful time for my staycation in Bakersfield. We cooked the turkey for thanksgiving, watched some movies, shopped, and talked a lot about life, love, and the pursuit of Jesus and his people. Thanks Sarah.

Synopsis: SICK. I have a deep man voice. Call me, I'll be your tenor. Maybe I should hire-out to be a serenader for Christmas presents. I've been not talking to people much at all, hanging out with my mom, and running lots of errands. It does feel good to get things done. But I am STILL sick. Perhaps that is partly the reason for the blah.

Favorites: Comfort things. Trader Joe's Spinach-Filled Tortellini with sea salt and olive oil. I've been eating it all week. Old country music like John Michael Montgomery's Life's a Dance (you know you dig the 90's clothes). It's my all-time favorite country song and I make myself not listen to it too much so I don't get tired of it but lately it's been on replay. Wearing jeans and my vintage gloves every day.

Can someone shoot me with an "I CARE" drug please? Because I really don't right now.

don't fence me in

atop a hill at the edge of the windwolves preserve

complex

I'm aware this is a complex issue. These are just my thoughts.

Ok, so I know that men are basically autonomous beings. They think in relation to themselves, to reason, and hopefully, are directed by God. Women are more relational and most often think in relation to other people. These two things make sense to me, and it's visible everywhere. At the base, we were somewhat designed that way.

I have many brothers who believe in submission of wives (in the best sense) to their husbands, and that men should lead women in all things spiritual and otherwise. Hey, it's in the Bible. I believe it too - it's just in the application that it becomes perverted. These men truly love Jesus and are seeking to follow him. They have my respect. But this is one of their big points and they stand strong on it.

So why, when we women come off as dependant on guys, or caring a little too much about what guys think of them, do these men fail to understand where it comes from? I know that, once glorified, we won't care what anyone thinks of us except for Christ. And we should be working to get to that point our whole lives long. But really? Doesn't it just make sense that the way we were designed at our core, from the beginning, would be the one thing that sin and Satan would pervert the most? Obviously Eve being made to support Adam made her a relational being from the get-go. And he was to lead her from the get-go. And so it is, that since sin entered the world, we are unable (duh, the nakedness) to relate on that perfect level. And women, being on the more relational side, have the hardest time with it. Of course we are going to care what men think. If you, men, are in the camp that says you're supposed to lead us, it should be obvious we are going to look to you for opinions on everything, especially ourselves. We're not so easily separated from man as he is from us. It's all wrapped up together. Intertwined.

Ok then, kiddies, let's all start leading and supporting each other the way we should. And perhaps a little more compassion for the beautiful half and our identity issues?

...

"Yeah, man, it was a great holiday weekend; I didn't have to shoot anybody, I didn't have to trample anybody..."

Thanks Rick. That's exactly what I wanted to her.

Fast Car

Obviously my car does not like driving as much as I do. Friday it decided to just, oh, not start for several hours. My car was nice enough to let me drive to the gas station on the way to work so that I could receive the caffine required to put up with it's shennanigans for the rest of the day. But then it wouldn't start to get me to work. Wait twenty minutes; still won't start. Call a coworker for a ride, come back before lunch; STILL won't start. I had it towed to the shop and then it graciously decided to wake up and start.* It's been starting ever since. Tricky.

So it was not a pretty day. I felt ugly and I reacted ugly. Still... (hellooo Emery), the music seemed to continue to follow me. Tiny Dancer on the radio at the end of the day, and while waiting (for ever and ever) for a work contact, Tracy Chapman's Fast Car on in the lobby. Amazing. When that song was over I gave up on the work contact and went home.

Many great and wonderous emotions poured through me (but not on my face, jeez, a girl can't change overnight) during this trial at the end of a very long, trying week. Their story will have to wait another day to be told, as it is wrapped up in it's own story and will require a separate post.

Otherwise this weekend was phenomenal. Satuday was spent in a heady combination of getting to know a new friend better, hours on my own in a bookstore, and girl's night in with old friends. Holly and Sam, you lifted my spirits more than you know. Thanks. Sunday was spent with churchy people and an evening of service. I literally spent all day (9am-11pm) with one or more of my big kids. It was pretty rad, yo.

More to come this weekend with Sarah and Jill and Naph coming to town! I feel like I won the lottery!


*For which I am very greatful as funds for repairs would not be so easy to find at the moment.

let it be / let the music find me

I love taking a drive late at night.  That alert, heightened sense of awareness that overpowers any tired in me.  The radio stuck on whatever station my finger paused over when I lost interest in the music.  Distracted, perhaps, by the city lights spread out before me.  My thoughts wander in and out with no desire to settle on any one thing.  Clear but carefree.  As I head home I can barely hear the strains of Let it Be beginning, so the knob is turned clockwise and the words start coming out.  When the electric guitar enters I'm beginning to grin.  The person in the car next to me, what are they pondering while this city sleeps?  And while I so crazily gesture, opera-like, at the neon lights?  I pull in to park just as the song ends-  daa-dadadaa-dada-daa--daa---daa.  Perfection.

shine on 'til tomorrow, let it be.

ODE

seventy degrees
slight breeze
hike beyond the trees
puts me at ease.

I crack myself up. Seriously though, a morning hike up a giant cliff followed by stretching and photographing fence posts? Totally my peaceful cup o' tea, especially conisdering the silence and solitute that is found with such activities. Saturday was lovely.

O What a Beautiful Morning

So far this morning, I have:

lain awake for THREE hours listening to our landlord's dog bark. Not sure how the landlord slept through it or how the dog managed to bark so long without even stopping to take a drink of water.

realized I never did call my best friend on her birthday at the end of the day yesterday like I'd planned.

hit my head (hard) on the shower faucet.

hit my head on my car door as I was getting out of it, effectively knocking the sunglasses off my face.

been hit on by a so-smooth old guy in a maroon camero. eeeewww.

tracked mud on my bathroom floor from the boots I put on for work.


lookin' forward to the rest of it. if Carrie Underwood sings "Get Out of This Town" and Little Big Town sings "Lost", it will more than make up for the crappy beginning.

Gifts

When I was 6, a boy threw a pencil at me. Probly 'cause I threw one at him first.


When I was 13, a boy got down on one knee and sang to me.


When I was 14, a boy sang "Baby Blue" in a school concert, for me. He found out later my eyes are more green than blue.


When I was 15, a boy peed my name in the snow.


When I was 16, a boy bought me flowers.


When I was 17, a man rubbed my feet.


When I was 21, a man stared at me like he was viewing for the first time something other, and worthy of contemplation. Woman.

When I was 23, a man wrapped music in a crossword puzzle and left it in my car.

When I was 24, a man bought me peanutbuttery chocolates.

Last week, a man bought me a tank of gas.*

It's the small (and apparantly strange) gifts that get to me. Intentional. Just because. To start things off well. For the end. Any of those will work. It doesn't have to be perfect, cost money, or be exactly what I need. Because sometimes I don't even know exactly what I need.

*thanks Dad.

Daily

Thoughts from the last few days -

Maybe I should make someone go into Sephora for me so ALL I buy is my Bare Minerals Foundation. Or I could order online, but I want the bag.

Ow. Mom. A paintball just exploded on my cheek.

Where have all the cowboys gone? Where have I gone?

Buying a 2liter of Diet Pepsi is cheaper than buying two big 1liter bottles. And I'll drink it before it unfizzes anyway.

I will not compete with a high schooler. I will not compete with a high schooler.

Having a coldsore wants me to explode into profanity like pretty much nothing else in the world.

It's weird that I'm so stuck on Jars of Clay, of all bands, right now. The last time this happened I was pretty unhappy, in like jr high. Crap.

A big male shoulder would be really nice right now.

clothing

My new grown-up clothing rules:

do not wear clothes you silently think are funny. Except in a Saturday t-shirt capacity.

pick a couple colors and stick with them, since you can’t seem to buy outfits.

don’t buy skirts. You don’t wear them.

shoes are important. make sure you have shoes to match, or money to buy them, before buying the new clothes.

between moving, being sick, and all the other daily-ness of my life, this is about all the thinking I've been able to do over the past couple weeks. That's all for now, folks.

Caution: this sounds a little like complaining...

I work in a male-dominated environment. As in, we went to a BBQ/Raffle thing yesterday and there were maybe ten women and over a hundred men, male-dominated. For the most part, I enjoy the entertaining man-drama, the bluntness, the lack of pettyness, the way I am appreciated. But seriously? Golf tournaments? At least once a quarter? Why can't we have shopping tournaments? Just because I am female means that I am unable to have that extra, every once-in-a-while perk of leaving work for the day at ten am.

Whew.

O.K. now I'm excited. And exhausted. But mostly excited.

Sequel

You know when you're reading a VERY good book, and the author ends it in a way that kind of doesn't make sense? When even though you have the sequel and can find out all about it in the next book, you're thinking the whole time, yeah if I were writing this it would just NOT end this way. The story would most definitely not be headed this direction.


I've been feeling that way lately about my life. Change is coming. I'm moving out of the place with the folks and into an apartment closer to the things I do with the short 24 hours in each day. It's about time, I know, and yes, I am excited about the new place. Which is why I was confused for a couple of hours today when I seemed to... sink into myself. My life is changing, which is good. I like change. The sinking came with the realization that I always expected to be somewhere else right now. I definitely don't wish my life away, but I want change with a caps-c, not slight change.


See, if this was my story...I'd be headed to San Francisco right now. Right now when my job is boring and un-challenging. Right now when I have few friends. Right now when I'm looking at another winter full of dull gray skies and no rain. I'd be headed to a tiny apartment in an old building in the fading light, walking up steep hills to work and play, eating whatever kind of ethnic food I want and making friends with people that care about the things I care about.


BUT. This is not my story to write. It is mine to tell, but it belongs to Jesus to write it. I won't go into the details of the why or the how I know I'm not supposed to leave. The, Jesus, I said I'd live anywhere and be anything you wanted me to be, but here, in this fake in-between? It feels like purgatory. I'll just say that Bakersfield is where he wants me right now, and faith (which I'm not very good at in the first place) is the only reason I'm not going crazy. That and the morbid fascination with what could possibly happen in purgatory in the next couple of years. Hopefully I'll get excited again about the small things. The change with the small-c. And until then?

Here's to His sequel being better than anything I could ever write.

In Hate

10 Things I Hate About You - obviously one of my favorite movies. Playing in my head, lately, is the list that she runs down; the actual 10 Things I Hate About You poem:


I hate the way you talk to me,
and the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car,
I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots
and the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick,
it even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you're always right,
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh,
even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you're not around,
and the fact that you didn't call.
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you-
not even close-
not even a little bit-
not even at all.

I'm a careful person when it comes to this kind of thing. I take the "guard your heart" advice fairly seriously. I don't give my heart away or spend tons of time thinking about someone who I know doesn't care for me back. Same for guys that may be a little interested in me, but I know won't work for me in the end. They may be charming and funny, but could I live the rest of my life with them? NO. It's all kind of pointless in my book, then, to lose my heart over something that has no good end. I like to see the big picture. This doesn't mean that I won't give some guys a fair chance. I will, but I'm able to see fairly quickly what it looks like on the other side. However, the few times I have seen possibility in a guy with whom I already have some semblance of a relationship (usually friendship), I tend to end up reciting the above poem. Except, because it's my life and not the movie version, I'm never sure, as Kat was, of the love (or guitars) on the other side. It's the reason for the hate. I hate it when I feel things for a guy with whom there's no guarantees; with whom I've let down a little of my guard to become friends, and ended up with the not-hating in the above referenced poem.

This happened a while back and now I'm peering around the corner, trying to see down the same road. The problem? I don't regret the last time. It's not enough to make me wall up my heart and my self and never be able to feel again. When will I learn my lesson? And what should that lesson even be? Should I just not be friends with guys? It doesn't happen with every guy I'm friends with. Should I feel the not-hate and know the gamble is worth it for the possibility? Or should I just roll through it quickly and not let it bother me as much so I can get over it faster? I'm not so sure where to go from here, and I'm not so sure why I'm like this. You'd think I'd be a little better at these things by now. huh.

Love Story

Darn you, Taylor Swift. I shake my fist at you. Just when I think I've got the me myself and I all under control, you write a song like this. It's like a trick, because at first you just roll your eyes so you let yourself listen, and by the end you're singin' along at the top of your lungs all hopeful like. Darn you again, just for good measure.

______ the Explorer

People fascinate me in all their complexity. Have for a long time.

I was talking about exploring the world earlier with a friend, and I think I've always wanted to be an explorer. As a kid, I never wanted to play house or teacher. I wanted to play swiss family robinson, or jungle adventure, or pirates on a ship. I would have been, depending on the century, a pirate or a pioneer or a conquistador or in Marco Polo's entourage. But what part of the world is left to discover? Not much is unknown. The sea, maybe, which is why I thought about being an oceanographer in third grade. Or space, which I thought about in the later part of elementary school. When people try to help me figure out what to do with my life, this is usually how the conversation goes:

What kind of things do you like to do?

I like a whole lot of different things.

What kind of things are you good at?

I'm good at a lot of things.

Well, what did you want to be when you were a little kid?

An Explorer.

Huh.

Yep.

But by the time I got to high school I pretty much decided to study other cultures or people for the rest of my life. This was my reasoning: people are the last frontier. That's how I picked my major. And people fascinate me still. The old man that power walks in swim trunks by my house. The homeless, pregnant young woman standing on the corner. The jerk in the power suit in Borders. My closest friends. The so depressed musician in the non-Starbucks coffee shop. Baby Kadence. I want to ask them all a million questions. Find out what makes them tick. Or if they have any tics. It's a curiousity that never ends. And I love it.

THIS

has been staring at me through my floor-ceiling office window for several weeks now. We think it was brought here by the stray dog we fed for a while, and someone thought it would freak me out. I actually was freaked out that they were video-monitering my work progress until I realized no one cared. Or at least is dedicated enough to stuff a tiny camera into a nasty dirty stuffed animal.

I got the joy - JOY

Down in my heart. I do. It began as unrest, and pressure from the holy spirit like an anvil on my chest, to pray and pray hard. So I did. I prayed for everyone I could think of, not knowing if this anvil was for a specific person or for something to come, or for the church as a whole. I realized a while into pondering, though, that it doesn't matter. God will reveal it to me as he sees fit*, and I just need to get over the wonderin' and on with the prayin'.

This is one of those times where I'm not even sure why God asked me to pray. Who am I that I should have the privilege of interceding on behalf of others? Especially recently I seem bogged down by my own sins and shortcomings. But this persistance of the Spirit was so clear that it seemed to bring one fact to light for me: no matter where I am, as a follower of Christ, he will use me as he sees fit, when he sees fit. My sins are gone to him, scattered. I should pay them no heed except as to confess and not fall in again. So I began to pray.

AND THEN CAME THE JOY. This morning. Overwhelming. I feel clean, free, joyful, desiring and thirsting for the things of God like I haven't in a long, long time. I feel like I should be spinning in an open field, arms wide, and falling on my face before God. This whole experience is entirely other than myself, and it's beautiful to have God working deep down in my heart. I still feel burndened, but my Jesus, the joy, thank you. I want to drink the deep water.

*PS if you were going through a hard time during this time, it's probably you I'sa been a-praying for and if you want to tell me about it I want to hear it.

shame on

Rick's latest (serious) suggestion on how to get our overdue, big-name, lots-of-money-owing customer to pay:

Get one of those giant banner-signs that say "SHAME ON ____________" and have the office staff all take turns holding it out on the corner of the big highway. Chanting and yelling would be included. He even knows a place that will make a banner in less than 24 hours.

thought #1: this is not in my job description

thought #2: I'm going to enjoy this immensly.

I also suggested (not so seriously) that we just walk in their office and use that sign language for "shame on you" that worked so totally well in first grade. Maybe we'd even get a big "oooooooo" from their office staff.

Pam's got nothing on me. Oh, well, except maybe for the Jim thing. Yeah, that may be the only thing outweighing the awesomeness of this office.

Rah-Rah, Sar-RAH.

Rick is currently walking around the office chanting, "Sar-RAH, Sar-RAH, Sar-RAH, Sar-RAH," as loudly as possible. Has been all day, actually. It's sad that my brain didn't even take the time to register the name or why he would be chanting it until the end of the day. I think at first I thought he was trying to be encouraging to our new intern but had her name wrong. But it looks like there's at least one solid Palin supporter in this office.

Desert Rats

I love the desert. It's strange, I know. But there's just all that... emptiness. It's a lonely place, beautiful in all it's strangeness, and largely unchanged in the last thousand years. It has cool rock formations. And long straight highways where you can go really, really fast.

The desert attracts odd creatures. Odd human creatures. Societal outcasts, ranchers, serial killers, you name it. And the desert lets them be themselves, and live however they want. There's such an autonomy out there. It's like an unspoken code that if they can stand to live in that remote corner of the world, they can pretty much do whatever they want. No one cares in that dry, empty landscape.

In one of the several odd jobs I had before landing in my current position, I spent all day monitering a waste-bin site (read: dumpster lot) in the middle of the Mojave. Very hot. Very few people. But the ones that did stop by, man, were they worth the wait.

A man and his woman, he in rolled-up overalls sans shirt and she in a bikini, rolled up the lot. About four trash cans, ready to be unloaded, were stuffed in the windowless backseat of their little hatchback. Small talk ensued:

"So you like living out here?"

"Yeah, usually we like to take off all our clothes and chase each other naked through the desert."

L.A.

Tourists always talk about going to LA. How cool it sounds. But anyone even remotely local knows that you don't go to LA. You go to Pasadena, or Laguna Beach, or Malibu, or Santa Monica, or any number of other places. Usually I'm of the opinion that the only thing touristy places are good for are people watching, but this last weekend...

We went to LA.

We went to Hollywood.

We went to Venice Beach.

And let me tell you, it was pretty amazing.

A giant fancy hotel with a cityscape view? Ice cream from room service at one am? Ethiopian food in the middle of little Ethiopia? Amoeba Records? Crazy (crazy expensive more like it) thrift store? Church the way it should be? Check check check check check check. Don't get me wrong, the people watching at Venice was amazing, as was the people watching in Hollywood. There was just more to it than that. Atmosphere. Vibe. Henna tatoos? Oh yes. Check it out. My leg, Holly's hand. The best part was the guy at the henna place with skeezy tatooed across his neck.

The weather was gorgeous too. I think I've found a few new favorite places, made all the better by some of my favorite people. And a word about Church? This church is active, the people are real, they care about social issues, and have great worship. Check it out. Thanks Naph, for the invite.

writes

I was staring at my handwriting today while trying to concentrate on work, and I noticed something strange. My words slant all different ways. One word goes left, the other right, one is pretty much straight up and down. Sometimes all words on one line are the same way, and then the next line each word is a little different. Numbers in sequence are first curvy, then straight. I cross one seven but not another a few rows down.

What does this say about my personality? Take that, Criminal Minds.

iPod touch hate

I do not own an iPod touch. I do not like thier tagline. I do not want one. While these three things seem like a child's disconnected statements, for me they are completely rational; the first two conditions leading to the logical third conclusion.


I LOVE ADVERTISING. This does not mean that I am awed or affected by all the glitz and glamour, ingenuity, or cleverness. For the most part marketing does not work on me. However, I get excited about brilliant advertising. I recognize the brilliance in the subtle persuasion, and for the very fact that they have a brilliant ad*, I will often buy the product. Call it a hats off to the marketing director. Some of my favorites:


Kaiser (even though her voice gets annoying, the idea is perfect)
Skittles Taste the Rainbow so needs to be revived
Chevrolet (like a rock)
Chanel
Apple

Ah, Apple. For some time now you have been the leader. Even though I don't always believe in the public humiliation of the PC, you've been able to do it with as much tact as is possible. And the beauty in your simplicity is hard to beat, as are those bright colors. But SERIOUSLY? "the funnest iPod ever"? I say funnest in conversation. I may even write in on occasion. But here, you're trying too hard. Possibly to appeal to the younger generation, which is what's wrong with so many advertising campaigns. And the beauty of the Apple adverts is that you look like your product is so good that you don't need to try too hard. Disappointment comes easily. I thought you would last. It'll take an even-better-than-before new gig for Apple to retain it's first place in Beth's Advertising Book.


Plus I don't really think a single breakable screen/buttons/etc wandering around in my purse and being dropped all the time is a good idea for me. But you know. I love to talk about advertising. And touch is just such a weird word. iPhone I can say. But really, do you go about saying "my iPod touch" (too long and pompous) or "my touch" (too Michael Jackson) or "my iPod" (if you can't flaunt it, why pay**)? The indecision would kill me.


*Print is my favorite. It's the hardest to do, as it only assaults one already over-stimulated sense, so you have to be good to pull it off.

**hear the sarcasm

Sodaista?

So you know how everyone has their favorite barista? The one that knows their order, gives them extra shots sometimes, maybe flirts with them a bit each morning? Yeah, I totally have a favorite Sonic guy. Sonic has nasty greasy food but makes the BEST SODAS EVER. And since I am a diet coke addict, and soda is my coffee, I thought it only fitting that I have a sodaista. Except, he picked me. He knows my order, comments on how I'm always reading something (it's true), and is just charming in general. I won't say which Sonic he's at, since there are three that I frequent, because I don't want him to know he's my favorite sodaista but mostly because I don't want to share. Because that's the thing about baristas and sodaistas, they make you feel special. If only for five minutes each day, it's entirely worth it. If Sonic didn't have my loyalty before the sodaista, they sure do now.

pACE

NOT THE PICANTE SAUCE.

Pace is important. I've never been good at it. I'm a sprinter. I hike in spurts, weaving along the trails. On the treadmill I have to hold on so I can run in the straight line necessary to not fall off and provide mass entertainment for others at the gym. I think they should give really clumsy people major discounts at the gym for providing that type of service (entertainment) to the other customers. It could even be an advertisment - "see the clumsy people". Ahem, back to the original topic.

Lately my pace of life has seemed a bit... fast. And spastic. Feels like I'm headed in all directions. If it was me giving the advice, I'd say, focus on one or two things, and do those well. It's kind of my life philosophy. The problem is, the things that I feel like I have to do, those I don't want to focus on. Like my full-time job. My family. Even friends sometimes (let's be honest).

The thing is, I'm doing pretty much everything on my list. It's just that each of those things are adding up to a lot more than I was thinking. Except I haven't moved yet, which I'm shooting for November first, but I can't see how that will completely turn things around. It will help a lot, I know. But other things still have got to change.

And it's September. One of my favorite months, I think. The weather's starting to cool down here (in the 80's - my perfect temp); people slow down, get more organized, and settle in; I can wear long sleeves outside and make all kinds of hot soups; it's my birthday month; the Fair happens. Cheesiness, but it's the time of year I would want to fall in love. Winter my skin's too dry and spring and summer? I question if it's really real. Or perhaps I'm just influenced by Sugarland's Hello. This is probably why I feel the most lonely in the early fall months. Same thing happened last fall. I hate being in a funk in September. And now I feel like even this post is spastic. ick.

A Better Woman

"She makes me want to be a better man."

I hear this term often, from guys, from boys, from girls relating what their guys have said to them. And it's true. The right woman should make a man want to be more man, a better man, to excel and do his best. Not that I'm going all Wild at Heart here, mind you, because while that book has a couple of good points I believe it distracts somewhat from truth. But this basic principle holds. Eve was Adam's support (men will say "helper"). In all her beauty, as the crowning glory of all creation, she was there to help Adam be a better man, and to glorify God in her own right. It's a reason to support each other; in a perfect world, men and women of the kingdom will help each other both become fully ourselves (who we've been created to be) and to fully glorify God.

We, women, all have this desire rooted in us, to help men become better men. It is the delivery that has become perverted. We sit up straighter, we do ourselves up, we nag, we hold on too tight. Obviously we get somehow that beauty is one of the things that spur men to become better men, but what kind of beauty? I think Eve was probably the most beautiful woman this earth has ever seen, wild and calming and striking and like home all at the same time. But the Bible never once notes her physical beauty.

And, in the end, I believe we try too hard to become beautiful by our relation to men, as that is what is ingrained in us. Perhaps this is a perversion as well? We are not beautiful only in relation to men, but are able to support men because we are already beautiful. We fail to realize that, most likely, what made Eve the most beautiful was her relation to God as the creator of all beauty as well as all strength. It is only in regaining this lost relation that we become more and more beautiful.

Men, it is not only the delivery that has been perverted but the reception as well. What kind of beauty spurs you to become better men? How often do I meet a man that makes me want to be a better woman?

Tidbits

Within two hours:
Rick walks in yelling “we are the champions” at the top of his lungs
Ralph walks around singing the “bad boys” cops theme song in his Spanish accent.


Eavesdropping - did he just say “slicker than snot”?


The higher-ups, they call themselves commander, chief and captain. And they use these terms regularly.

a GREAT day

Mornin’, Pete.

Mornin’, beautiful girl. How you doing today?

Today? I’m just fine, Pete, thanks for asking. You?

Oh, great, great. Really great, actually. MmmHmmm. Yeah, I’d tell you but I wouldn’t want to embarrass you. HA HA HA HA HA HA.

I wish all my workdays didn't start out with something similar, but, um, they do.

The Things that Annoy Me

I am not a person who is easily annoyed. This is fact, because if you knew my brother (king of the annoyed men), you would see that I, in comparison, rarely have to roll my eyes, heave a huge sigh, or take potshots at people from my head (otherwise known as expletives that don't get out). But when I do, these are the worthy things that will cause such odd behaviour:

1. People who don't use turn/merge lanes. The turn lane is not a lane that you cross when you turn, fellow California drivers, it is a lane that you get into, as in the whole car, before turning.

2. The fact that, every little once in a while, I still miss the presence of someone who is no longer here. This miss doesn't last long; it's more like a 10-second shortness of breath when I feel like I'm missing a ghost limb. Or maybe I just have panic attacks. STILL. This should not be happening anymore. Ever.

3. Service people who make jokes. I'm aware that they've had the same "hi, how's it going," conversation a million times that day, but really, it comes with the job. Why is it that they choose me to experiment on with new material? Does my face shout, "I will laugh at your jokes! I will be your best friend!"? No. It does not. I need to practice my Skapes face.

4. Being asked if I am in college. Or called a "college kid". I AM NOT IN COLLEGE. Even if you have no other category in which to put me, a single, young professional adult, just don't call me anything. My name will suffice.

5. Picking up a super-cute, nicely-cut perfect-color shirt just to find out that it's so thin even my skin-colored bra will show through. Which would require me to layer. And as we all know, I HATE TO LAYER.

6. The use of unnecessary abbreviations. Who in real life says "ep" for an episode of television? Even "pic" is a little too much for me. I can't handle it.

Typical Office Conversation

Me:

Sheri, here’s some checks for you to pull.

Sheri:

Checks, checks, checky-poos.

Sheri:

HEY!!! Glasses today!

Me:

Yep.

Sheri:

We match! Hey Steve, we’re both wearing glasses! AND black shirts! It’s a matchy-day! Too bad you’re not wearing black.

Steve:

I’m wearing black underwear, does that count?

MyHeritage: Family trees - Genealogy - Celebrities
HEY. I am not one of those celebrity freaks, but you know you always wonder... Now I KNOW. My long lost twin is the Queen of Salsa.

Cruisin'

I realized the other day, when driving around town, that pretty much everyone has some semblance of cool while they are driving a vehicle. I think it's the power. You can't be not cool when you are in control of a few thousand pounds of metal. Many people may argue about this, but I hold true to my point.

I realized this because of the way I was comfortably sitting (left foot up, right hand slung across the passenger seat) and the looks that I got from various other drivers (still in the pump district here, with a 10:1 man:woman ratio). I thought, I am not cool. Yet I must have something for people to be looking at me so much.* So I started to check out the other people driving cars.

I wonder if that girl has good style? But really, she's probably one of those semi-clean-cut wannabe type myspace stalkers. If that guy got out of his car and walked toward me, I'd run the other way. But I'd probably do the cheesy wave just cause his car is idling next to mine. Even the clunker-drivers have that geeky-cool thing, especially with the green revolution hitting(smash,smash) our state. On that note, all the geeky or sensible cars seem cooler because they are either economical or help the environs. ha. I wonder if the greenies factored in the coolness? Maybe more people will buy and drive cars now because it's just so cool to drive a geeky/greenie car. That would kind of even out the carbon footprint, eh? So much for that idea.

Ugh, no wonder all my Big Kids can't wait to drive. It really does make you cool. At least until you get out of the car. THIS is why we don't go cruisin' down Chester Avenue anymore. When they're driving, you just can't tell who's a keeper or a kreeper.




*Yep, I checked. No drink on the roof, nothing bright red or purple sticking out, hair in it's normal flat state.

Layering, Schmayering

In many things I am definitely a child of the 90's. The late 80's to the mid 90's, to be exact. As evidenced by mine and Holly's longer-than-you-would-think convo last night about boy/girl hotwheels/barbie happy meals at McD's back in the day (you know you want those days back too). But there is one major way in which I do not conform: Layering. I hate to layer. HATE. As in will not buy a shirt that I LOVE just because it will require layering.


Fashion people make it sound so simple, like it solves all of their problems. Attn: Fashion People: LAYERING CREATES MY PROBLEMS. And this is not coming from my non-conformist attitude toward trends in fashion. It is purely a comfort thing. And an I-know-what-looks-good-on-me-and-bunchy-clothes-do-not thing. It may have a slight something to do with my body type. Curves just don't give themselves over to layering. Sometimes I wonder how they give themselves over to clothes at all.


This creates an issue while shopping. I wear black, because I have not found a white shirt in about five years that I would not have to wear an undershirt with. That's the real reason I mostly wear dark colors. No layering required. I feel, often, left out of the loop because most cute clothes assume that I love to layer like the rest of my generation. So I wear boring, basic clothing. Which is probably good for me. There is only one positive aspect to not layering, and that will only go into full effect when Beth gets that train over that hill (she still thinks she can).

Work.

Has anyone else fallen asleep sitting on the toilet at work? No? Ok, just me then. It's never actually happened (for more than a couple minutes), but if I close my eyes for a few seconds... I mean, I even try not to go to the bathroom for the first couple of hours because that's when I'm still sleepy...

ALSO, whoever said that extreme air conditioning makes for alert, awake employees has never sat in my office. There's a reason people fall asleep before they freeze to death.

Should I stay or should I go now...

I believe I'll stay for a while, here in Bakersfield. Doing youth ministry at Calvary. It's what God wants of me, it's pretty clear. I've decided, and I have peace. The deep-seated kind, the kind that doesn't make me stress anymore. Still waiting for the joy to come around, though... maybe I should pray for it? That'd probably be a good idea. I am so thankful that I get to spend more time with the incredible young women that I love so much to work with and talk about Jesus with. And that I get to meet new ones. It's just... the living here is a challenge at times. Here where there isn't a lot of new things. Of city-wide parties, of farmers markets, of outdoor concerts, of ethnic food, of shorelines and hikes and green grass. But maybe... maybe I would be caught up in those things. Here where there's nothing else I like means I focus all my time, energy, and brain on the one thing that I love doing here. Because really? I don't want to be standing in a flower market, alone, or on a train in some random country when Christ comes back. I want to be discipling his church. To be in the process of being discipled. Drinking the deep water.

So, decision made, ready to roll, I of course break out my list-making skills. Because I know the fact that I haven't had time to pluck my eyebrows or get more than six hours sleep ever has got to change if it means I'm going to continue to live here. Since not many read my blog, I'll get personal here and let those who do read in on my lists:

Fact: I do not have enough time. Or energy.

Things that are important to me:

Jesus time

my big kids

my family

community/friends

sleep/exercise/eating right

Possible Solutions:

live alone

live closer to my job/ministry

don't hit snooze in the mornings

say no more. I used to be so good at it.

eventually find a less-hours job I can live off of

put time into specific people (like make a list), dang it.

That's all for now folks. I do value opinions, by the way. Happy Sunday.

The weekend in Redding was, well, amazing.

In spite of all the blindness I experienced the last two days. It made Heidi laugh, so I guess there was some worth to it. My eye swelled up in some sort of allergic reaction and there was much pain. And I couldn't see. Sarah had to lead me around townh I wore my sunglasses inside. I had to stay an extra day. And what's really weird is I'm not usually a drama queen, but somehow I have the urge to tell everyone I see in dramatic detail about this significant event. Maybe I would be a drama queen if more things like that actually happened to me. The saddest part was that it was gorgeous weather the last two days. Perfect park or lay out by the lake days. And I couldn't even see them. sigh.


Other than that, it was a great weekend. Sarah and I talked A LOT about real things, which was amazing. And made fun of the 3 incredibly strange conversations I had with service people at the grocery store, dinner, and the pizza guy. I realized when I shop I talk to the clothes and shoes. "you're so pretty." "too bad you're too tall for me." "shirt, you remind me of a vampire and I love you." ACK! Though I wear much black, I do not have vampy style.


It was good to be in real community. And to worship at the Stirring, an amazing community of believers.


PS - it has to be noted that despite our goal to take lots of cute pictures, these are the only ones I ended up with on the camera (well, this is about half of them). Maybe I'm a little narcissistic? But really, I was alone and trying to kill ten minutes before church. Duh, what would you do? Oh, right. Get the heart ready to worship.

Next time, Sarah, next time.

Summer Fun

This video gives a small glimpse of what my extended family's annual beach trips are like. My two cousins, sister and I were out for a walk in cute Cambria where they do things like name their houses. These houses line the shore. This house is named the Wave House. So, naturally, we waved. And I think this video also aptly demonstrates why Kati should be president of the Kreeper Klan and not my Aunt Terri. Turn up the volume. It's the fact that we're laughing so hard at this that makes me love my family so much.

The Sleepover

Recently, before all the young ones went back to shkool (Adam Sandler, can it really be said without reference to Billy Madison?), we had a sleepover for all the high school girls in the youth group that I work with. My great friend Naphtali joined us for the evening as she was in town and I convinced her it would be fun. And you know what? About halfway through the night I found myself thinking how much better high school is the second time around. But I digress. I must include a general schedule of the evening along with photos of the fun, because let me tell you, IT WAS FUN.


7:30-8:30pm: Fun girly music, giant coloring books, those cool big blowup bouncy balls with the rubber bands, a little nail-painting, a little friendship bracelet-making. And snacks.


8:30-9:30pm: Break out the bubble machine. Break out the flashing hula-hoops. Break out the techno music. Break out the strobe lights. Turn off the lights. And wait for it, wait for it, BREAK OUT THE GLOWSTICKS. And, logically, breakopen the glowsticks and slash them
all over your clothing 'til you glow like a neon fish. Commence dancing like a maniac along with twenty five other females. Include conga line. Who ever said alcohol was necessary to have a good time has certainly never tried this. Works every time.


9:30-10:30pm: Take the glowsticks out to the park and jump on a giant slip-n-slide in the dark. Go back inside for pazookie, which they all seem to be crazy about.


10:30-11:59pm: More serious nail painting, major make-up doing (no matter what anyone else says, Page's makeup looked GOOD and I did not make her look like a hooker), and then the appearance of Melissa who was gracious enough to coax everyone's hair into fantastic do's with fun temp hair colors. No one looked even remotely like the cookie monster. Tastefully done, Melissa, tastefully done.



12:00-01:30am: Watch Goofy Movie on a giant screen. That's right.


01:30-03:00am: Olivia and I make a little trip downstairs to the bathroom which is in the gym (read: middle of the night in a dark cavernous space). La-de-dah, talking, peeing, la-de-dah, open the door, PERSON STANDING RIGHT THERE IN CLOWN MASK AND BLACK CLOTHING. Definitely a Scream Movie type moment. Except (HA!) person forgot it was Olivia and Beth he was scaring, who don't scream but just stand there, holding our breath, until he runs away and is immediately recognized as high school boy #1. We run outside and see high school boy #s 2-5 join him in flight. Run suckers run. Enter captain Julie who leads high school girls in fast pursuit with (of course prepared) ammunition of water balloons and super-soakers. High school boy #s 1-5, high school youth pastor, and husband (read: momentary enemy) of captain Julie run far away, never to return.


8:30-9:00am: Gentle loud music floats over twenty passed-out people, one of which looks at her phone and mumbles oh crap before literally grabbing her purse and stumbling out the door, forgetting all of
her belongings. Fortunately the music was too loud to hear her fall down the stairs (jk, jk Shelby).


All in all it was a super-sleepover and we must do it again.

Young Thang

Hey, we've all heard. McCain's taken the mommy of the year on board. I'm not sure what I think yet, as I don't personally know the woman, and don't like to get involved in politics. But I do read the news regularly via the BBC, and so I happened upon this article the day of. SORRY, but all I could think was, what is she wearing? Normally I wouldn't say this, but she seems like an otherwise sensible person, who is actually cute and has good smart-woman style. Like one of those women you'd want to be friends with, eh? But that's what they said about Hillary too, so, you know. It's all up to the American voters.

The long weekend.

You know you live in Bakersfield when...

1. You see one of those motorized disabled-person carts (like at Target) driving down a main street with a giant rainbow umbrella attached.

2. You see, on the same day, on the same street, a personalized golf cart painted in brightest bright colors with several people onboard.

3. You pull, when walking into the restroom at the local pizza place (the nice local pizza place) a shower curtain to close the stall instead of a stall door. Ingenious. They should have tried those at my high school, where at least half of the doors were missing in the girls' bathroom.

4. They close an entire highway on big weekends because all the latin-folk love to party at the park All.Day.Long. and listen to mariachi music All.Day.Long. and drink beerbeerbeer All.Day.Long. Which is really annoying if a non-park-going person such as myself has relatives with super-cool house right by the park and can't get to it because there is a police barricade between said person and said cool house.

All this to say that I, in all the wisdom God has granted me, am headed to Redding for the long weekend. To "get away." Which, if you know Redding, is ironic to the extreme.

Newness

I've obviously redone my template. Some great things need pointing out. Title and Header are references to Voyage of the Dawn Treader, my favorite book in Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia series. Hint: Christ is the water. You pretty much just have to read the whole book (or the whole series) for it to have it's full effect. This photo was taken on the Lost Coast last November while I was on a gorgeous backpacking trip. The shot was taken from our campsite. You can see all the other ones on facebook. While I do love my new template, sadly the other options from Pyzam were passed up. Here are the names of the runners-up:

1. Eat poo
2. I love weed
3. Get on my level

Back at the Ranch

Ralph walked into my office the other day (Note: Ralph walks the way I imagine Fidel Castro walks) and this conversation ensued:


Do ju know what we’re doing?

How we’re doing?

No, WHAT we’re doing.

What are we doing, Ralph?

We’re fixing a pump that was at Michael Jackson’s Ranch. I’m gonna take a picture of it and sell it on ebay!!!

This was said with so much glee that all I could do was smile and be joyful with the man.

My friend Holly and I are forever finding ways to prolong our childhood. We decided the other day that we would make a craft-project type gift for our mothers for Christmas this year and drag our other siblings and siblings-in-law into it too. I won't say what it is because AO and Suz* read my blog and they need to be completely surprised (since delight may not be part of the equation, at least some emotion will come out).

In researching our proposed Christmas present; I found THIS:

BABY HAND Plaster Statue Kit

You can make these:
Or these:

Or these fine gifts (for adults).

That's just plain CREEPY.

If you'd like to creep out your folks for Christmas, check it out at:

http://www.castingkeepsakes.com/baby-hand-plaster-statue-kit-p-1.html


*My mom and Holly's mom.

The Dress

I am in love with dresses. I try them on all the time. At this point I have close to ten black dresses in my closet, which is a lot because I have a limited wardrobe (on purpose) that only takes up about half my closet. But dresses are just so practical, and not at the same time. And for a simple person like me, the lack of layering necessary is a beautiful thing. All a dress requires on any given day: shoes, a sweater, and maybe some earrings.

Recently I found a summer dress I loved at Walmart (I know) and bought it in black and brown. AND THEN a pretty grey cap-sleeve* (perfect for smart black glasses and maryjanes) called my name at Target. I think the other colors are joining the chorus, because they will most likely be purchased as well. It just isn't every day you find a dress that you like and that fits and that is work-appropriate and that is affordable enough you can buy one, or even more than one, right? And you know I'm really just looking for support for my dress addiction here, right?

*see photo. And can I tell you that it really does look less mom-ish on me than it does on her? Curves do make the dress. Or break it, often actually. But they make this dress.

Since, then.

Since I've spent SO MUCH TIME lately doing all the things important to me, there hasn't been much time to blog. Pictures of various activites are forthcoming, but for now this FUN SURVEY will have to suffice.
A. Attached or Single? Single. Duh. As if there's been a different answer for (cough) years.
B. Best Friend? I have several. Anywhere from four to seven if you count the bests and the bestests.
C. Cake or pie? yuck. Don't get me wrong, I still indulge, but ice cream just does it for me.
D. Day of choice? Saturday because I get to HIKE and then just generally wander about town, house, and brain.
E. Essential item? Packaging Tape. No joke.
F. Favorite color? Black.
G. Gummy bears or worms? Again, ice cream.
H. Hometown? Bakersfield.
I. Favorite indulgence? Fancy knickers.
J. January or July? July. January is butt-ugly around here. July is just as dead but people want to eat outside on the patio and there are SPARKLERS.
K. Kids? Are really not possible for me right now, but I must admit that when I got to the walmart counter to buy flashing hoola-hoops, squirt guns, a friendship bracelet kit, crayons and princess & spiderman giant coloring posters, the guy at the counter did ask the same question. I guess you could say I have about 20 big kids.
L. Life isn’t complete without? Jesus.
M. Marriage date? Not Applicable.
N. Number of brothers and sisters? one brother who is like Jack Bauer. One sister who I think wants to be Clara Barton except prettier.
O. Oranges or Apples? Apples. Oranges get messy and then sticky and smelly.
P. Phobias? None.
Q. Quotes. "Live the way you think, or you will end up thinking the way you live." -the author is on a card in my room somewhere and hopefully it isn't plagerism because I DIDN'T SAY IT. But I completely agree.
R. Reasons to smile? Those 20 big kids make me smile pretty big. So do new friends.
S. Season of choice? I'm pretty much excited for every upcoming season. Fall: sweaters, long sleeves, cooler weather. Winter: is the same as fall. Spring: getting to see green grass and wear fun skirts. Summer: The late light, and t-shirts, jeans, and bare feet. Maybe summer is actually my favorite.
T. Tag 5 people: Not sure what to say here, but how bout a random shoutout? To Leisl for making a go of it in Spain, to Sarah for whatever's makin' her so dang happy right now, to Kaila for the hugs and tellin' me she loves me, and to Olivia and Darin for bein' those people who can pick up an instrument and play it. All of those things are freakin amazing.
U. Unknown fact about me? I pinch people with my toes. And if you know that, you've been pinched and therefore probably know everything else about me that I can think of right now.
V. Vegetable? I love lima beans. With salt.
W. Worst habit? probably all that diet coke I drink.
X. X-ray or Ultrasound? X-ray? I don't know too many people who get real excited about either, except maybe pregnant people or the ones who like to watch House. Or Bones, come to think of it, which is my favorite show. So let's go with X-ray.
Y. Your favorite food? Right now I'm hooked on the Mozerella alla Caprese salad at Macaroni Grill. It's the only thing I like there but it's pretty yummy. That and the bread. Maybe bread's just my favorite food.
Z. Zodiac sign? I think I'm a libra but I was thinking about all the other questions you could ask for Z... zebra comes to mind and that reminds me of Hearst Castle and the zebras that roam free overlooking the Pacific ocean... if I was from somewhere else that would be pretty strange.

Silverware

Setting: Calm, quiet office, with a well-known candy jar full of Worther's Originals.
Mood: Girl in skirt, peacefully typing and using her brain to a good majority of it's potential.
Action: Machinist in oil-spatter enters at doorway, reaches for two pieces of candy, and pauses on his way out to offer this report:

"I've got matching silverware for the plate in my head."

IMMENSE ENJOYMENT ENSUES FOR GIRL IN SKIRT.

Blurts

Lately I've been noticing a tendency on my part to blurt out unnecessary things at work. WHY do I suddenly have the urge to yell, to talk smack back to people for fun, or just to throw out strange comments in general? There is no pent-up frustration here. No sarcasm, no underlying motives. To the account manager walking past my open office door on his cell phone saying, "I am at work right now, believe it or not," I want to shout, "DON'T BELIEVE IT! DON'T DO IT!" like a maniac or an annoying little kid. If anyone can tell me what's wrong with me, please don't. Because I secretly kind of like it as long as it doesn't get me evicted from my office.

Confession #1

I have a confession: I have a storage shed. This is difficult for me to admit, given my aversion to storage sheds in general. In brief, I think storage sheds for people who own a house or even an apartment larger than a studio are a joke. And even if you read this and you have one, I do not feel bad for telling you this. If you have stuff you don't use more than once every couple months, you shouldn't have it. Or you just have way too much other stuff. If your storage is on your property, that's your issue and essentially an extension of your house. But if it is in a long embankment of other storage sheds and you have to use a key/pin to get in, it shouldn't be necessary. This is why it's difficult for me to come to grips with the fact that yesterday afternoon, I loaded up the family truck and took a bunch of stuff to storage. I do have a good excuse (my room is being redecorated by my landlord, ahem, mom, to the extent that there is only room for my clothes and half my books), but I still feel off kilter, and it's been over 24 hours. We'll see how I do in a week.

Venice

Venice Beach, California is one of my new favoritest places. Though there are many on the list, this one just jumped towards the top like Jessica Simpson up the country charts (but with better taste). Venice Beach, in my mind, contained rollerblading men with tank-tops and as commercialized a version of California beach as you could get. Think Bakersfield by the beach but with tourists. Yowza. On my recent out-of-curiosity-visit (a regular occurance), however, I determined that while still touristy, Venice Beach is definitely a list-topper. It is hippie, and trashy, and crowded with all types of people - Kanye wannabees, hip urbanites, flower people and homeless all intermingle. And most of the tourists that I encountered, anyway, were from outside the US, which makes things much more interesting. If you like hippie, cultured, semi-trashy places, Holly, this place is for you.

Conversations with Rick

I have many conversations with my office folk. And let me tell you, when I say it's like the Office, the show, IT IS LIKE THE OFFICE. I keep a running log of great conversations and will periodically share them. Perhaps one day I'll get some audio to go along with it. Names have been changed to protect the identity of my coworkers (or at least that's what you think).

Rick:
Think I’ll go with Ralph to pick up my car. May be gone a while, see how much he wants to look around.
Me:
Where at?
Rick:
Out near Lamont.
Me:
It’s a different world out there.
Rick:
Yeah, and you never know, about the people you go out with… with those foreign-born drivers you just never know. I went out driving with a guy from India once and he always wanted to drive on the wrong side of the road. We’ll see how Ralph does. You just never know… those foreign born drivers…(drifting down the hall)
(Ralph has been in and out of the US for over twenty years)

Me:
Rick, can you sign this check real quick? It’s a donation for the American Cancer Society.
Rick:
mmmhmm mmm mmmmmm I’M A SURVIVOR!!! (screaming).


The other day Rick asked me (in all sincerity) to find out who is using the little stapler and take it away from them.

In not Of

Nothing says "Not of this World" like a giant sticker that says "Not of this World" plastered across the back window of your brand-new full-size lifted truck. Or maybe I'm just jealous.

Well....

It's been a while. Not that anyone cares, since no one even knows I have this blog. But, there are legitimate reasons for the long absence.
REASON ONE. I went on a little trip. To Ohio. And Tennessee. And Arkansas. And Missouri. And Kansas, Colorado, Utah, Arizona, Nevada, and on through to the golden state. Which it is. Golden. My sis was headed back to California from Ohio for the summer and didn't have anyone to drive home with her, so I generously (get me out of Bakersfield) offered to go, sent the bill to the folks, and had a grand time. Nashville literally had country music on every corner. I genuinely wish I could describe every detail of our trip, but you'd fall asleep. No one gets Bob the Parrot that was not in that car. Eventually I'll figure out how to post my slideshow/video on facebook and then y'all can experience for yourself.
REASON TWO. Brother got married. As in, a text came two days prior to the wedding got married. Crazy, but it was fun and simple and Jill and I joke about beating Brad's engagement-to-wedding time some day, but I think in our heads we may be a little more serious than joking... My little bro also graduated and commissioned within those same two weeks or so, and it was a busy time for all. The summer is flying by - I haven't even seen much sun, which is good because I won't get skin cancer, and I will continue in my delusion that my pale -reddish skin looks as good as you would think pale ivory skin would look.

Backwards

I seriously do all things backwards. I read magazines from back to front (probably because I like the ads the best). I read classics because I see movies about them and it makes me want to read the book. And I am entering the blogging world after being a frequenter of facebook and myspace. I am behind all my friends, who probably think I am just trying to be more like them (which is true, especially if you are the super-cool Sarah - who just told me she had a blog after six months). I'm not sure why I do things backwards... I do love the unconventional. Or maybe it's because God decided to put the biggest part of me in the back, so I'm just following his leading.