I love you, I love you, I luh-uh-ove you. I want to make you mine.
I lurve my friends and family.
I'm proud of my family and fond of my friends.
Peace.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Sometimes I wonder what people say behind my back.
Sometimes I know.
I know they say good things, sometimes they tell me what those are. But they're bound to say bad things too - judgmental things - truthful things - narrow perspective things.
I mean, that's what we do to them, right?
You've been there. You've criticized, generalized, rolled your eyes. And you've been there when they've said things about someone who you love and their comments hit a little to close to home. A couple of friends make fun of one of your bf's and you sort of smile at their generalization, but it stings a little - even if it is a little true. Two types of behind the back, and they both hurt. The only variable is the who.
So don't you wonder what they say about you?
"What a drama queen." Eye roll.
"Well, she blows everything out of proportion." Head shake.
"She's an idealist. She can't have it all." Arms thrown up in the air.
"She couldn't keep a man to save her soul." Coffee sipped with a very knowing look.
Is that what they say behind my back? Those who obviously don't appreciate my drama or love me more for the fact that I make a great queen.
Don't you kind of wonder? Cause I know what they say about you.
And sometimes I want to tell you. Sometimes I want to scream: "Don't you know what they're saying about you? Is that how you want to be known?" I mean really, how can we know unless someone tells us?
But I don't really want to be told, because what they say is usually only half the story.
Sometimes not. Sometimes men really are only all about sex, and they really are that shallow. Sometimes women really do over-react to everything and they really are always paranoid. Sometimes people really are that self-consumed, or that manipulative, or that obsessed, or that narrow-minded, or that fill-in-the-blank.
But sometimes those assessments are only half the story.
I've been criticized at least twice in my life for writing about "drama" on my blog and making it seem like my world is awful just to draw attention to myself. These criticisms make me sad, but they also remind me that people don't know the whole story. I love making people laugh or think and often when I write about men falling through my ceiling or accidentally buying a stolen car or my cat trying to eat my poor fish, I want to communicate not only what is going through my life, but also in a comedic, story-telling way. And sometimes I write about when I am sad and I do that to counteract the false-hood that Christians are always happy-go-lucky people who constantly count their blessings and never grieve. And sometimes I write about ex-boyfriends (always very inconspicuously) because you know everyone can relate to that. :)
So if someone were to say the aforementioned to me, I would know they only know half the story about this story-teller and although the misunderstanding would make me a little sad, I wouldn't stop blogging because of it.
But today as I watched two people criticize someone else with the typical eye roll and head shake, (and even though I agreed with them), I wondered what they say about me behind my back. And I wonder about telling the person they said those things about. How would that person respond?
This is no great commentary on life nor is it a narrative on the depravity of the human existence. I'm just honestly wondering what people say about me behind my back and if they say it in love with a smile (and that's why they love me) or if they count it as a defect in my character. And I wonder what would happen if we all told other people what other people say about them and if it would create total chaos, war and enmity or if it would cause us to pause, do some self-reflection and change.
Because surely some of it is bullshit and easy to write off. But surely some of it is truth too.
Someone at church commented the other day how hard it must be for a minister (me) to point out when people are doing bad or stupid things. I just kept quiet cause unless I've been asked to be the finger-pointer, I don't tend to tell parishioners when I think they're sinning. Geez, I mean, who am I to judge? Hypocritical me. Grace covers them (and me) right? They don't need me to finger-point or even just point out the obvious - right? That's not my job. My job is when they acknowledge their own shortcomings and seek repentance - my job is to remind them that grace has already set them free - to go and sin no more. And I count on my "pastors" to offer me the same reminder of the Truth of Jesus Christ. That's my job right?
Well, I don't know when this blog turned into a job therapy session, and i'll probably delete it tomorrow when I wake up, but these are just some things that popped into my head today when I watched people behind-the-back criticize their friend.
Something we all do every day...
Sometimes I know.
I know they say good things, sometimes they tell me what those are. But they're bound to say bad things too - judgmental things - truthful things - narrow perspective things.
I mean, that's what we do to them, right?
You've been there. You've criticized, generalized, rolled your eyes. And you've been there when they've said things about someone who you love and their comments hit a little to close to home. A couple of friends make fun of one of your bf's and you sort of smile at their generalization, but it stings a little - even if it is a little true. Two types of behind the back, and they both hurt. The only variable is the who.
So don't you wonder what they say about you?
"What a drama queen." Eye roll.
"Well, she blows everything out of proportion." Head shake.
"She's an idealist. She can't have it all." Arms thrown up in the air.
"She couldn't keep a man to save her soul." Coffee sipped with a very knowing look.
Is that what they say behind my back? Those who obviously don't appreciate my drama or love me more for the fact that I make a great queen.
Don't you kind of wonder? Cause I know what they say about you.
And sometimes I want to tell you. Sometimes I want to scream: "Don't you know what they're saying about you? Is that how you want to be known?" I mean really, how can we know unless someone tells us?
But I don't really want to be told, because what they say is usually only half the story.
Sometimes not. Sometimes men really are only all about sex, and they really are that shallow. Sometimes women really do over-react to everything and they really are always paranoid. Sometimes people really are that self-consumed, or that manipulative, or that obsessed, or that narrow-minded, or that fill-in-the-blank.
But sometimes those assessments are only half the story.
I've been criticized at least twice in my life for writing about "drama" on my blog and making it seem like my world is awful just to draw attention to myself. These criticisms make me sad, but they also remind me that people don't know the whole story. I love making people laugh or think and often when I write about men falling through my ceiling or accidentally buying a stolen car or my cat trying to eat my poor fish, I want to communicate not only what is going through my life, but also in a comedic, story-telling way. And sometimes I write about when I am sad and I do that to counteract the false-hood that Christians are always happy-go-lucky people who constantly count their blessings and never grieve. And sometimes I write about ex-boyfriends (always very inconspicuously) because you know everyone can relate to that. :)
So if someone were to say the aforementioned to me, I would know they only know half the story about this story-teller and although the misunderstanding would make me a little sad, I wouldn't stop blogging because of it.
But today as I watched two people criticize someone else with the typical eye roll and head shake, (and even though I agreed with them), I wondered what they say about me behind my back. And I wonder about telling the person they said those things about. How would that person respond?
This is no great commentary on life nor is it a narrative on the depravity of the human existence. I'm just honestly wondering what people say about me behind my back and if they say it in love with a smile (and that's why they love me) or if they count it as a defect in my character. And I wonder what would happen if we all told other people what other people say about them and if it would create total chaos, war and enmity or if it would cause us to pause, do some self-reflection and change.
Because surely some of it is bullshit and easy to write off. But surely some of it is truth too.
Someone at church commented the other day how hard it must be for a minister (me) to point out when people are doing bad or stupid things. I just kept quiet cause unless I've been asked to be the finger-pointer, I don't tend to tell parishioners when I think they're sinning. Geez, I mean, who am I to judge? Hypocritical me. Grace covers them (and me) right? They don't need me to finger-point or even just point out the obvious - right? That's not my job. My job is when they acknowledge their own shortcomings and seek repentance - my job is to remind them that grace has already set them free - to go and sin no more. And I count on my "pastors" to offer me the same reminder of the Truth of Jesus Christ. That's my job right?
Well, I don't know when this blog turned into a job therapy session, and i'll probably delete it tomorrow when I wake up, but these are just some things that popped into my head today when I watched people behind-the-back criticize their friend.
Something we all do every day...
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
This blog is for George.
I doubt George reads my blog. I doubt George will ever read my blog. But blogworld, I want you to know about George.
On Sunday I went in to work and when I got to the College Sunday School room, I discovered my teal, hand-crafted bowl with turtles on it, lovingly given to me by my younger sister when I was in college was in the trash. Broken. Broken in the trash.
I did not have a panic attack. I did pitch a huge fit.
Warrented. All of it.
There is an organization that meets at my church during the week and uses some of our rooms. I noticed they used my small college room when I found food and trash all over it one Sunday morning. I told the building manager; a custodian now cleans that one small room every week after they meet. Then they started erasing what my teacher had been writing on the board during Bible study and referencing week to week. We have plenty of small rooms all over the building. I asked the business manager to reassign them a new room that isn't currently being used for Sunday school. Not a big deal. We've got tons of rooms and space just for that.
Then I found the broken bowl.
Can I just say that that handmade bowl has survived, count with me, wait for it... at least six moves that I can think of including one from Missouri to Texas. What could they have possibly done that would have broken that very thick (you know how bowls are when you start off throwing pots) bowl?
I was so angry. And so hurt. And it wasn't just a bowl, it was a bowl with turtles (and that has meaning) and it has my sisters fingerprints and fingernail marks in it (and that has meaning) and i got it in college (and that has meaning) and i loved it and wanted to share it with my college students. in their room it held small stones with words like hope, peace, love, and joy etched in them.
Why did that group mess with the hope, peace, love, and joy and break the bowl?
I was hurt and I was angry so I took the small trashcan from the Sunday School room down to my office as evidence to show my business manager the next day and repeat my request to re-locate this group. One of my college students consoled me by suggesting that he could probably glue it back together. Love them.
But it was gone the next morning.
I went into my office and discovered the trash had been emptied. Not just my ugly metal can, but the cute plastic one from the S.S. room with my evidence and my bowl in it. I am officially an idiot.
Panic returned, but a sense of loss replaced it.
I told my business manager about what had happened.
"The trash was emptied just this morning, do you want to go look for it?"
"No I have to go now and get back in an hour for Deacon's meeting tonight. I don't want to look for the pieces of my bowl in the trash."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I'm not digging through a trash dumpster. It's not a big deal, it's just that my sister made me that bowl and I was going to try and put it back together. But it's fine. It's gone. It happens. I'll get over it. I'm just disappointed and upset at that group for breaking it."
After Deacon's meeting, George, one of our custodians, approached me.
"Ann, did you have a pot in the trash?"
"Huh?" I was a little confused after having just come out of a two hour meeting that fried my brain.
"A bowl in the trash that was yours?"
"Um... oh! Oh yes. Why?"
"I got it. It's on your desk."
"You what?"
"I got it out of trash."
"George no! You didn't! I told Marshall no. Oh no - you didn't dig through the trash did you?"
"It was right on top. I had the cleaner wash it. It's on your desk now."
I grabbed George in a huge hug right there in the youth quad with half the deacons standing around.
"George, I'm so sorry. But thank you so much."
He just shook his head like it were no big deal. "It's on your desk in a bag."
I almost cried driving home. Every day George and I greet each other. Every once in a while, we share specifics about grand-children or worship or whatever. But George searched the trash for the special bowl my sister made me and that generous act took our friendship to a whole bowl new level.
And so this is my shout out to George.
Thanks.
I doubt George reads my blog. I doubt George will ever read my blog. But blogworld, I want you to know about George.
On Sunday I went in to work and when I got to the College Sunday School room, I discovered my teal, hand-crafted bowl with turtles on it, lovingly given to me by my younger sister when I was in college was in the trash. Broken. Broken in the trash.
I did not have a panic attack. I did pitch a huge fit.
Warrented. All of it.
There is an organization that meets at my church during the week and uses some of our rooms. I noticed they used my small college room when I found food and trash all over it one Sunday morning. I told the building manager; a custodian now cleans that one small room every week after they meet. Then they started erasing what my teacher had been writing on the board during Bible study and referencing week to week. We have plenty of small rooms all over the building. I asked the business manager to reassign them a new room that isn't currently being used for Sunday school. Not a big deal. We've got tons of rooms and space just for that.
Then I found the broken bowl.
Can I just say that that handmade bowl has survived, count with me, wait for it... at least six moves that I can think of including one from Missouri to Texas. What could they have possibly done that would have broken that very thick (you know how bowls are when you start off throwing pots) bowl?
I was so angry. And so hurt. And it wasn't just a bowl, it was a bowl with turtles (and that has meaning) and it has my sisters fingerprints and fingernail marks in it (and that has meaning) and i got it in college (and that has meaning) and i loved it and wanted to share it with my college students. in their room it held small stones with words like hope, peace, love, and joy etched in them.
Why did that group mess with the hope, peace, love, and joy and break the bowl?
I was hurt and I was angry so I took the small trashcan from the Sunday School room down to my office as evidence to show my business manager the next day and repeat my request to re-locate this group. One of my college students consoled me by suggesting that he could probably glue it back together. Love them.
But it was gone the next morning.
I went into my office and discovered the trash had been emptied. Not just my ugly metal can, but the cute plastic one from the S.S. room with my evidence and my bowl in it. I am officially an idiot.
Panic returned, but a sense of loss replaced it.
I told my business manager about what had happened.
"The trash was emptied just this morning, do you want to go look for it?"
"No I have to go now and get back in an hour for Deacon's meeting tonight. I don't want to look for the pieces of my bowl in the trash."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I'm not digging through a trash dumpster. It's not a big deal, it's just that my sister made me that bowl and I was going to try and put it back together. But it's fine. It's gone. It happens. I'll get over it. I'm just disappointed and upset at that group for breaking it."
After Deacon's meeting, George, one of our custodians, approached me.
"Ann, did you have a pot in the trash?"
"Huh?" I was a little confused after having just come out of a two hour meeting that fried my brain.
"A bowl in the trash that was yours?"
"Um... oh! Oh yes. Why?"
"I got it. It's on your desk."
"You what?"
"I got it out of trash."
"George no! You didn't! I told Marshall no. Oh no - you didn't dig through the trash did you?"
"It was right on top. I had the cleaner wash it. It's on your desk now."
I grabbed George in a huge hug right there in the youth quad with half the deacons standing around.
"George, I'm so sorry. But thank you so much."
He just shook his head like it were no big deal. "It's on your desk in a bag."
I almost cried driving home. Every day George and I greet each other. Every once in a while, we share specifics about grand-children or worship or whatever. But George searched the trash for the special bowl my sister made me and that generous act took our friendship to a whole bowl new level.
And so this is my shout out to George.
Thanks.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Saturday, January 20, 2007
It's been raining for 9 days straight. 9 days.
"9 times."
"9 times?"
"9 times."
"Beep...beep...beep....beep....beep...beep...beeeeeep." And Farris Bueller reduces it on Rooney's computer from 9 days absent to 2 days absent.
Lucky bastard.
I've been absent all week. For unfortately no computer, no matter how smart, can change 9 days of rain or 9 months of bad luck or 9 years of wrong boyfriends in anyone's life.
And so we suck it up buttercup, put our best foot forward, our raincoat on, and keep right on truckin. Sorry for all the mixed metaphors. But I'll take whatever mixers I can get to get me through this mixed up state I'm in.
Remember when I bought that stolen car three years ago? Riiiiight. Unfortunately, I can't talk online about what I'm going through right now, but suffice it to say that the lot of it together is draining me emotionally, spiritually, physically, and mentally (I have bad dreams).
I can't take many more days of rain. And I sure as hell wouldn't have made it through 40. But 40 may be what i get.
And Zorba and Potter load the ark.
40 days is a long time. 9 days is just the beginning.
"9 times."
"9 times?"
"9 times."
"Beep...beep...beep....beep....beep...beep...beeeeeep." And Farris Bueller reduces it on Rooney's computer from 9 days absent to 2 days absent.
Lucky bastard.
I've been absent all week. For unfortately no computer, no matter how smart, can change 9 days of rain or 9 months of bad luck or 9 years of wrong boyfriends in anyone's life.
And so we suck it up buttercup, put our best foot forward, our raincoat on, and keep right on truckin. Sorry for all the mixed metaphors. But I'll take whatever mixers I can get to get me through this mixed up state I'm in.
Remember when I bought that stolen car three years ago? Riiiiight. Unfortunately, I can't talk online about what I'm going through right now, but suffice it to say that the lot of it together is draining me emotionally, spiritually, physically, and mentally (I have bad dreams).
I can't take many more days of rain. And I sure as hell wouldn't have made it through 40. But 40 may be what i get.
And Zorba and Potter load the ark.
40 days is a long time. 9 days is just the beginning.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
So Christmas Vacation and Snow Days necessitate movie watching. Here's what I've seen over the past month and my personal (and definately professional) critique. On a five star two thumb scale...
Talledega Nights -
4 stars, two thumbs up. Love, no, lurve the Prayer scene. "Dear eight point two pound baby Jesus..." Love it.
The Devil Wears Prada -
3 stars, two thumbs up. Meryl (who i always confuse with Glen) was fabulous. Of course. Love her.
Night at the Museum -
3 stars, two thumbs up. Ben is fabulous and Dick Van is of course one of my favorites. Not to mention Owen Wilson "That makes me sad." A good flic.
The Constant Gardner -
five stars. two thumbs up. Amazing movie about Africa, conspiracy and love. Rent it.
Pirates of the Carribean II -
3 stars, two thumbs up. I love Johnny Depp and my friends and I argued over whether it would be fun to be married to him. I vote yes... but I was also one of only two single people in the room. Long but good. Waiting for the third one!
The Matador -
2 stars, two thumbs down. lame boy-bonding movie that i heard was rad but just plain wasn't. ew.
The Holiday -
three stars, two thumbs up. long but good. plus Jude Law is, well, Jude Law.
Nacho Libre -
three stars, two thumbs up. what can i say, jack black is jack black. always go in with no expectations, always come out happy. "sometimes, adults just like to wear tights."
Raising Arizona -
three stars, two thumbs up. an oldie but a goodie - and i'd never seen it. That was quickly remedied and i soon realized that Hi's hilarious.
Talledega Nights -
4 stars, two thumbs up. Love, no, lurve the Prayer scene. "Dear eight point two pound baby Jesus..." Love it.
The Devil Wears Prada -
3 stars, two thumbs up. Meryl (who i always confuse with Glen) was fabulous. Of course. Love her.
Night at the Museum -
3 stars, two thumbs up. Ben is fabulous and Dick Van is of course one of my favorites. Not to mention Owen Wilson "That makes me sad." A good flic.
The Constant Gardner -
five stars. two thumbs up. Amazing movie about Africa, conspiracy and love. Rent it.
Pirates of the Carribean II -
3 stars, two thumbs up. I love Johnny Depp and my friends and I argued over whether it would be fun to be married to him. I vote yes... but I was also one of only two single people in the room. Long but good. Waiting for the third one!
The Matador -
2 stars, two thumbs down. lame boy-bonding movie that i heard was rad but just plain wasn't. ew.
The Holiday -
three stars, two thumbs up. long but good. plus Jude Law is, well, Jude Law.
Nacho Libre -
three stars, two thumbs up. what can i say, jack black is jack black. always go in with no expectations, always come out happy. "sometimes, adults just like to wear tights."
Raising Arizona -
three stars, two thumbs up. an oldie but a goodie - and i'd never seen it. That was quickly remedied and i soon realized that Hi's hilarious.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
It's snowing!!
I don't think you can actually see the snowflakes in this picture. And truth be told, I don't think it's snowing anymore, more sleeting/hail something or other. But the kids are estatic cause school was cancelled as of last night and I've already seen three walk/skip by my window trying to capture snow/ice from people's yards to make a snowball. Good luck.
But there was snow for a minute. Here's proof. My birdfeeder, roses, chair, etc.
I don't think you can actually see the snowflakes in this picture. And truth be told, I don't think it's snowing anymore, more sleeting/hail something or other. But the kids are estatic cause school was cancelled as of last night and I've already seen three walk/skip by my window trying to capture snow/ice from people's yards to make a snowball. Good luck.
But there was snow for a minute. Here's proof. My birdfeeder, roses, chair, etc.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
I made it.
"I made it this far," I sighed with relief as I settled on the bus and it pulled out of FBC at 6:47pm. I got everyone on the bus. That's amazing. I felt very adult-like.
That was yesterday. I am surrogate youth minister for retreats and wednesday nights as our youth minister is on sabbatical. My first "retreat" actually being the one is charge. I'm used to leading worship, or teaching or playing cards, but being responsible for 25 little lives? It was daunting. Not to mention the "If this gets screwed up you're dead meat" sound system and the lighting system for the dance Saturday nigh (also not mine) , and of course my own trusty college projector and computer which could also bring a price for my head if ruined or stolen.
No pressure.
And then there were the students.
"I cannot believe you're making us go home."
"I didn't make that decision."
"I can't believe you won't let us have a lock-in at the church instead."
"None of the other counselors will stay, I can't do it by myself."
"I can't believe you won't let us have a slumber party at your house."
"Some of your parents would be more panicked about you staying the night in my neighborhood than they would about us driving back in ice. Get a grip. I'll make it up to you. There's another youth retreat in two weeks."
"That retreat's for youth led worship. Don't try and trick us. You owe us big."
Sigh.
Is this what normal youth ministers experience?
I think the "three musketeers" are no longer speaking to me. This is not much of a change since they never listen to me either (14 year old boys), so what's one more sense lost?
"What are you going to do if it's sunny tomorrow here, Miss Pittman?" (I hate it when they call me that. They only do it to get under my skin and it works).
"Well, I guess I'll see you at church then. But it won't be sunny. There's an ice storm coming tomorrow."
And Austin is panicking. They're considering shutting down the city for two days Monday and Tuesday.
G.M.A.B.
Truth be told, if we were in Missouri or Colorado and conditions were as they were at Glen Rose, I wouldn't have thought twice about the roads. We'd have stayed the whole weekend. But this is Texas which means several things: 1. Texans panic at the thought of ice or snow or sleet, 2. they have no clue how to drive on or in any of the aforementioned states, and 3. they have no salt on the roads which, if the ground actually gets cold enough that it ices, it is dangerous.
So it's best we left.
Although the students would have preferred to be stranded with one another at the retreat center. It sounds very romantic now, but how about on Monday evening when we're still there and they're sick of playing cards and basketball? I can just hear it, "Now what can we do?"
But they're such a great group of kids. They just like to raz me. They love me, but whenever I claim to be the youth minister, they're always quick to remind me, "substitute."
I actually only had to play that card once. Last night around 1:15am when we could hear the boys talking and howling through the walls. I threw back the covers and marched over to their door, politely banged on it and stuck my head into the dark room. "This is Ann, I'm playing the youth minister card. Now shut it."
It worked.
They really are swell kids.
And I made it.
"I made it this far," I sighed with relief as I settled on the bus and it pulled out of FBC at 6:47pm. I got everyone on the bus. That's amazing. I felt very adult-like.
That was yesterday. I am surrogate youth minister for retreats and wednesday nights as our youth minister is on sabbatical. My first "retreat" actually being the one is charge. I'm used to leading worship, or teaching or playing cards, but being responsible for 25 little lives? It was daunting. Not to mention the "If this gets screwed up you're dead meat" sound system and the lighting system for the dance Saturday nigh (also not mine) , and of course my own trusty college projector and computer which could also bring a price for my head if ruined or stolen.
No pressure.
And then there were the students.
"I cannot believe you're making us go home."
"I didn't make that decision."
"I can't believe you won't let us have a lock-in at the church instead."
"None of the other counselors will stay, I can't do it by myself."
"I can't believe you won't let us have a slumber party at your house."
"Some of your parents would be more panicked about you staying the night in my neighborhood than they would about us driving back in ice. Get a grip. I'll make it up to you. There's another youth retreat in two weeks."
"That retreat's for youth led worship. Don't try and trick us. You owe us big."
Sigh.
Is this what normal youth ministers experience?
I think the "three musketeers" are no longer speaking to me. This is not much of a change since they never listen to me either (14 year old boys), so what's one more sense lost?
"What are you going to do if it's sunny tomorrow here, Miss Pittman?" (I hate it when they call me that. They only do it to get under my skin and it works).
"Well, I guess I'll see you at church then. But it won't be sunny. There's an ice storm coming tomorrow."
And Austin is panicking. They're considering shutting down the city for two days Monday and Tuesday.
G.M.A.B.
Truth be told, if we were in Missouri or Colorado and conditions were as they were at Glen Rose, I wouldn't have thought twice about the roads. We'd have stayed the whole weekend. But this is Texas which means several things: 1. Texans panic at the thought of ice or snow or sleet, 2. they have no clue how to drive on or in any of the aforementioned states, and 3. they have no salt on the roads which, if the ground actually gets cold enough that it ices, it is dangerous.
So it's best we left.
Although the students would have preferred to be stranded with one another at the retreat center. It sounds very romantic now, but how about on Monday evening when we're still there and they're sick of playing cards and basketball? I can just hear it, "Now what can we do?"
But they're such a great group of kids. They just like to raz me. They love me, but whenever I claim to be the youth minister, they're always quick to remind me, "substitute."
I actually only had to play that card once. Last night around 1:15am when we could hear the boys talking and howling through the walls. I threw back the covers and marched over to their door, politely banged on it and stuck my head into the dark room. "This is Ann, I'm playing the youth minister card. Now shut it."
It worked.
They really are swell kids.
And I made it.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
um, so according to yahoo, january 11 is national break-up day. so hurray! i didn't get dumped (or duped) for the third time this year!
oh wait, it's 2007.
i haven't been dumped at all this year. that's bound to improve my self-esteem! thanks josie for that completely pointless, yet somewhat humorous bit of information about national break-up day. i'm sure all singletons and smug marrieds who are still dating as of 11:59 tonight are relieved.
cheers to not being broken up with.
today.
:)
oh wait, it's 2007.
i haven't been dumped at all this year. that's bound to improve my self-esteem! thanks josie for that completely pointless, yet somewhat humorous bit of information about national break-up day. i'm sure all singletons and smug marrieds who are still dating as of 11:59 tonight are relieved.
cheers to not being broken up with.
today.
:)
Good Job Missouri! I love you.
(Click on the above link to find out why - sorry you have to watch a commercial first!)
(Click on the above link to find out why - sorry you have to watch a commercial first!)
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
(telephone rings)
MOM: Ann, did you let Zorba go outside today?
ANN: (puzzled) No, why?
MOM: Well I heard that 40 to 60 birds died suddenly in Austin today and I just wondered if you Zorba out.
Funny.
Yes. 64 birds died today in downtown Austin.
No. My sweet cat did not eat or maul them.
Yes. They're being sent to A&M (vet school capital of the world) to be examined.
No. They don't know what's wrong with them.
Yes. They blocked off downtown (two blocks from where I work) during a very inconvenient time of day.
No. They found nothing wrong with the air.
Yes. Rumor is two policemen who worked Congress last night called into work nauseous today.
No. I do not feel sick and although I did have a moment of panic, have not yet hypochondriaced myself into thinking I have acquired what the birds have.
Yes. I just made up that word hypochondriaced.
No. I am not actually a hypochondriac.
I'll keep you updated. Provided there are no more wise cracks about the temperament of my cats.
MOM: Ann, did you let Zorba go outside today?
ANN: (puzzled) No, why?
MOM: Well I heard that 40 to 60 birds died suddenly in Austin today and I just wondered if you Zorba out.
Funny.
Yes. 64 birds died today in downtown Austin.
No. My sweet cat did not eat or maul them.
Yes. They're being sent to A&M (vet school capital of the world) to be examined.
No. They don't know what's wrong with them.
Yes. They blocked off downtown (two blocks from where I work) during a very inconvenient time of day.
No. They found nothing wrong with the air.
Yes. Rumor is two policemen who worked Congress last night called into work nauseous today.
No. I do not feel sick and although I did have a moment of panic, have not yet hypochondriaced myself into thinking I have acquired what the birds have.
Yes. I just made up that word hypochondriaced.
No. I am not actually a hypochondriac.
I'll keep you updated. Provided there are no more wise cracks about the temperament of my cats.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
This is what I will preach tonight at Beresheth...
New Year’s Resolutions, I hate them.
I’m going to get skinny, I’m going to get in shape, I’m going to stop smoking, I’m going to drink less, I’m going to get a boyfriend, I’m going on at least one date a month, I’m going to read my bible every day, I’m going to start going to church, I’m going to call my mom more, and on and on and on.
I hate them because I think when we make these resolutions we set ourselves up for failure.
Inevitably we sneak in just one cigarette after lunch, inevitably, we get toasted at our best friend’s birthday bash, inevitably, we don’t end up asking out that girl we’d been wanting to, inevitably, we go back to eating a snickers with lunch at work for that extra energy boost, inevitably we check our calendars and it’s been three weeks since we’ve been to the gym, inevitably, mom calls and kvetches about why we don’t call her more.
Damn. We blew it.
And then we feel bad about ourselves and the cycle starts all over.
I mean, have you been reading the quotes? Half of them are optimistic about looking ahead and new beginnings and the other half are pessimistic. Mark Twain says you can have your glorious resolutions on New Year’s Day but you’ll be back paving the way to hell come January 2nd. Helpful.
But you know, I think we get guilt a lot in churches although many churches don’t mean to communicate it. You need to be a good person churches tell us. You need to help the poor. You need to tithe. You need to forgive your enemies. You need to be nicer to your parents. You need to be ethical at your job. You need to be faithful to your spouse. And when we’re not perfect, we feel guilty. I think this translates through resolution-making too. If we’re Christians and our resolutions are based in what we believe about God – that we need to take care of our bodies which are described in the bible as God’s temple, that we need to take care of each other because we are called to love neighbor and enemy, that we need to study ancient scripture and participate in a faith community – if we make resolutions that are based in our philosophy of faith, then not only have we let ourselves down when we break our resolutions (or perhaps never even get started on them) we let God down too.
And that’s why I hate resolutions. I can handle being angry with myself, but I can’t handle the idea that I’ve disappointed God.
And the truth of the matter is God doesn’t want me feeling either way.
Our text tonight is from Isaiah when the Israelites are still in Babylon. Let me remind you of where we are in the story. You’ve got the primeval history (Adam, Eve and Noah) and then the patriarchs Abraham, Isaac and Jacob (and the matriarchs, Sarah, Rebecca and Rachel), and then you’ve got the Israelites stuck as slaves in Egypt and Moses comes and leads them out. Then there’s the period of the judges (Deborah and Samson) and then the period of the kings (Saul, David, Solomon) and then the kingdom of Israel divides into north and south and low and behold when they’re at their weakest and steeped in sin, in comes the Babylonians who captures Israel and cart them off to Babylon.
And while they are in Babylon, they are traumatized, it’s true. Check out the book of Lamentations if you don’t believe me.
But while they are there, they receive a word from God about what God has in store.
He starts off with a little reminder of his credentials: I am the LORD, your Holy One, the Creator, your King. All capitol letters. Just in case anyone had forgotten.
Then God reminds them of what he did in Egypt when he delivered the Israelites from the Pharaoh: verse 16, “who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters, who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior; they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished, quenched like a wick.” Do recognize the imagery? God reminds the people of their story and actually promises them a greater exodus from Babylon than they had from Egypt.
Verse 18, Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old.” That’s history, good history, but it doesn’t even compare to how I will heal you now. “I am about to do a new thing;” says God, “now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” Rivers in the desert? Please. A rarity, it’s true. You can definitely spot a river in a desert because the little patch around it on your map will be green but all the rest of the map will be brown. But that’s what God promised the Israelites. I am about to do a new thing, says God. Take hope.
"I am."
Not "you are."
"I am."
The great I AM takes the initiative to rescue Israel and I believe God will do the same for us today.
In fact, the more we are aware of our inadequacies, the more we recognize our need for God. God is not about guilt and self-loathing. God is about grace. God is about empowerment and forgiveness. Put the old stuff behind you, I am doing a new thing, God says.
I think God offers us the same promises today. You cannot be a good person on your own. Anorexic eating habits won’t make you a healthy person. Forgiveness doesn’t come naturally. Being the perfect friend is impossible.
But when we open ourselves to the grace of God, who sees our sin, sees where we need growth and loves us anyway, something changes.
It’s not always dramatic, but it is little by little. God does not need to rescue us from the Babylonians or Mexico or Iraq. But God does need to rescue us from materialism, self-loathing, greed, selfishness, etc.
You know there were Israelites who chose to stay in Babylon. They’d set up a nice house there, gotten some real pretty Babylonian wives, their businesses were booming despite the fact they were foreigners. Why leave when they were finally comfortable?
There were some who chose to stay. But for those who longed for home, God was ready to take them there despite their sin, despite their loneliness, despite their confusion. God was ready.
“I am about to do a new thing. Don’t get stuck looking back wishing and hoping and resolving for an old time when you were skinnier, happier, healthier, and had a great boyfriend. What I’ve got in store for you is so much better.”
No more guilt, only forgiveness. No more self-loathing, only grace. If we are willing to release ourselves to trusting and loving the Lord, the Holy One, the Creator, the King, the one who made the first resolution to love us in the first place.
New Year’s Resolutions, I hate them.
I’m going to get skinny, I’m going to get in shape, I’m going to stop smoking, I’m going to drink less, I’m going to get a boyfriend, I’m going on at least one date a month, I’m going to read my bible every day, I’m going to start going to church, I’m going to call my mom more, and on and on and on.
I hate them because I think when we make these resolutions we set ourselves up for failure.
Inevitably we sneak in just one cigarette after lunch, inevitably, we get toasted at our best friend’s birthday bash, inevitably, we don’t end up asking out that girl we’d been wanting to, inevitably, we go back to eating a snickers with lunch at work for that extra energy boost, inevitably we check our calendars and it’s been three weeks since we’ve been to the gym, inevitably, mom calls and kvetches about why we don’t call her more.
Damn. We blew it.
And then we feel bad about ourselves and the cycle starts all over.
I mean, have you been reading the quotes? Half of them are optimistic about looking ahead and new beginnings and the other half are pessimistic. Mark Twain says you can have your glorious resolutions on New Year’s Day but you’ll be back paving the way to hell come January 2nd. Helpful.
But you know, I think we get guilt a lot in churches although many churches don’t mean to communicate it. You need to be a good person churches tell us. You need to help the poor. You need to tithe. You need to forgive your enemies. You need to be nicer to your parents. You need to be ethical at your job. You need to be faithful to your spouse. And when we’re not perfect, we feel guilty. I think this translates through resolution-making too. If we’re Christians and our resolutions are based in what we believe about God – that we need to take care of our bodies which are described in the bible as God’s temple, that we need to take care of each other because we are called to love neighbor and enemy, that we need to study ancient scripture and participate in a faith community – if we make resolutions that are based in our philosophy of faith, then not only have we let ourselves down when we break our resolutions (or perhaps never even get started on them) we let God down too.
And that’s why I hate resolutions. I can handle being angry with myself, but I can’t handle the idea that I’ve disappointed God.
And the truth of the matter is God doesn’t want me feeling either way.
Our text tonight is from Isaiah when the Israelites are still in Babylon. Let me remind you of where we are in the story. You’ve got the primeval history (Adam, Eve and Noah) and then the patriarchs Abraham, Isaac and Jacob (and the matriarchs, Sarah, Rebecca and Rachel), and then you’ve got the Israelites stuck as slaves in Egypt and Moses comes and leads them out. Then there’s the period of the judges (Deborah and Samson) and then the period of the kings (Saul, David, Solomon) and then the kingdom of Israel divides into north and south and low and behold when they’re at their weakest and steeped in sin, in comes the Babylonians who captures Israel and cart them off to Babylon.
And while they are in Babylon, they are traumatized, it’s true. Check out the book of Lamentations if you don’t believe me.
But while they are there, they receive a word from God about what God has in store.
He starts off with a little reminder of his credentials: I am the LORD, your Holy One, the Creator, your King. All capitol letters. Just in case anyone had forgotten.
Then God reminds them of what he did in Egypt when he delivered the Israelites from the Pharaoh: verse 16, “who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters, who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior; they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished, quenched like a wick.” Do recognize the imagery? God reminds the people of their story and actually promises them a greater exodus from Babylon than they had from Egypt.
Verse 18, Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old.” That’s history, good history, but it doesn’t even compare to how I will heal you now. “I am about to do a new thing;” says God, “now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” Rivers in the desert? Please. A rarity, it’s true. You can definitely spot a river in a desert because the little patch around it on your map will be green but all the rest of the map will be brown. But that’s what God promised the Israelites. I am about to do a new thing, says God. Take hope.
"I am."
Not "you are."
"I am."
The great I AM takes the initiative to rescue Israel and I believe God will do the same for us today.
In fact, the more we are aware of our inadequacies, the more we recognize our need for God. God is not about guilt and self-loathing. God is about grace. God is about empowerment and forgiveness. Put the old stuff behind you, I am doing a new thing, God says.
I think God offers us the same promises today. You cannot be a good person on your own. Anorexic eating habits won’t make you a healthy person. Forgiveness doesn’t come naturally. Being the perfect friend is impossible.
But when we open ourselves to the grace of God, who sees our sin, sees where we need growth and loves us anyway, something changes.
It’s not always dramatic, but it is little by little. God does not need to rescue us from the Babylonians or Mexico or Iraq. But God does need to rescue us from materialism, self-loathing, greed, selfishness, etc.
You know there were Israelites who chose to stay in Babylon. They’d set up a nice house there, gotten some real pretty Babylonian wives, their businesses were booming despite the fact they were foreigners. Why leave when they were finally comfortable?
There were some who chose to stay. But for those who longed for home, God was ready to take them there despite their sin, despite their loneliness, despite their confusion. God was ready.
“I am about to do a new thing. Don’t get stuck looking back wishing and hoping and resolving for an old time when you were skinnier, happier, healthier, and had a great boyfriend. What I’ve got in store for you is so much better.”
No more guilt, only forgiveness. No more self-loathing, only grace. If we are willing to release ourselves to trusting and loving the Lord, the Holy One, the Creator, the King, the one who made the first resolution to love us in the first place.
Monday, January 01, 2007
In honor of the new year and in reflecting on the past year, I resolve to (in the words of Bridget Jones) "stop forming romantic attachments to any of the following: alcoholics, workoholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional f*ckwits, or perverts."
Hmm. Not exactly how I would have written it, but a good motto to date by nonetheless.
So obviously I watched Bridget Jones' Diary today, but also Pride and Prejudice of which Bridget's books and movies are loosely based. Here's one of my favorite lines from P & P.
Elizabeth: Did I just agree to dance with Mr. Darcy?
Charlotte: I dare say you will find him amiable.
Elizabeth: It would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity.
I love it. Expecially with the brittish accents. "Since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity." Hilarious.
And yet so like us.
I like it indeed.
Hmm. Not exactly how I would have written it, but a good motto to date by nonetheless.
So obviously I watched Bridget Jones' Diary today, but also Pride and Prejudice of which Bridget's books and movies are loosely based. Here's one of my favorite lines from P & P.
Elizabeth: Did I just agree to dance with Mr. Darcy?
Charlotte: I dare say you will find him amiable.
Elizabeth: It would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity.
I love it. Expecially with the brittish accents. "Since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity." Hilarious.
And yet so like us.
I like it indeed.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
14 hours of sitting in a car and I'm finally home.
And what do you think the first thing I saw when I pulled into the Griswald Family Neighborhood where I bought my modest house?
My good neibhors Clarence and Tommie welcoming me home. (insert picture of their house)
I also found my heater/ac broken. Broken. there's a short in the wiring. my neighbor said the breaker flipped and when it was pushed back over my dial was spinning like it was supplying electricity to an apartment complex. except i live in a small house. so the breaker's been re-flipped, there's no heat, and last night i slept under 5 blankets (my whole body - head included), fully clothed with the cats curling in close to any bend in my body under those blankets they could find. it was freezing.
today it's lovely out and i'm trying to will the heat into from house from the sun outside but to no avail.
and it snowed in st jo mo today. you can imagine my feelings on that. i'm freezing my ass off in the sun in texas and it snowed "beautiful soft snow" the day after I left st jo mo.
no biggie. extra clothes around the house. at least gloria (from hawaii) gets to see the snow. i'll sit in the sun and try to warm up. i'll blog and download pictures from my camara to my computer to make me feel better.
this is where i put the pictures of the christmas lights on my house to accompany the picture of my neighbors' houses above. oh, you don't see them? hmm, that's strange since the camara is brand new - a christmas gift. but gee, you're right, i don't see the pictures of the houses either. that must be because i can't get the pictures downloaded onto my computer. i downloaded pics from my parents old camara in st jo, no problem. but my new one? nope. nada. nothing.
now my nose is running.
i know, i know, i'm debbie downer, but can't i get anything to work right now. geez. please. it's new year's eve. i want heat, i want to be kissed and i want to look at my pictures of christmas.
apparently, that's too much to ask for.
not that i was asking. i try not to bother god about things like house stuff, boy stuff or electronics stuff. i figure if i've got my health and a job it's best to keep my mouth shut. i hate to knock on wood or pester anyone.
okay, for all my pessimism at this moment, i've really got a good thing going today. i looked adorable at church in my new clothes (boots from emily, skirt from amy, shirt from mom, and necklace from aunt yo). kevin did a great job preaching. i had lunch with friends, then i came home and got my laundry done. i emptied my dishwasher. and now i guess i'll do some scrapbooking - finish up 2005 so i can get on to 2006 since tomorrow starts 2007.
if you want to come over to keep me company, you can.
just bring a scarf.
And what do you think the first thing I saw when I pulled into the Griswald Family Neighborhood where I bought my modest house?
My good neibhors Clarence and Tommie welcoming me home. (insert picture of their house)
I also found my heater/ac broken. Broken. there's a short in the wiring. my neighbor said the breaker flipped and when it was pushed back over my dial was spinning like it was supplying electricity to an apartment complex. except i live in a small house. so the breaker's been re-flipped, there's no heat, and last night i slept under 5 blankets (my whole body - head included), fully clothed with the cats curling in close to any bend in my body under those blankets they could find. it was freezing.
today it's lovely out and i'm trying to will the heat into from house from the sun outside but to no avail.
and it snowed in st jo mo today. you can imagine my feelings on that. i'm freezing my ass off in the sun in texas and it snowed "beautiful soft snow" the day after I left st jo mo.
no biggie. extra clothes around the house. at least gloria (from hawaii) gets to see the snow. i'll sit in the sun and try to warm up. i'll blog and download pictures from my camara to my computer to make me feel better.
this is where i put the pictures of the christmas lights on my house to accompany the picture of my neighbors' houses above. oh, you don't see them? hmm, that's strange since the camara is brand new - a christmas gift. but gee, you're right, i don't see the pictures of the houses either. that must be because i can't get the pictures downloaded onto my computer. i downloaded pics from my parents old camara in st jo, no problem. but my new one? nope. nada. nothing.
now my nose is running.
i know, i know, i'm debbie downer, but can't i get anything to work right now. geez. please. it's new year's eve. i want heat, i want to be kissed and i want to look at my pictures of christmas.
apparently, that's too much to ask for.
not that i was asking. i try not to bother god about things like house stuff, boy stuff or electronics stuff. i figure if i've got my health and a job it's best to keep my mouth shut. i hate to knock on wood or pester anyone.
okay, for all my pessimism at this moment, i've really got a good thing going today. i looked adorable at church in my new clothes (boots from emily, skirt from amy, shirt from mom, and necklace from aunt yo). kevin did a great job preaching. i had lunch with friends, then i came home and got my laundry done. i emptied my dishwasher. and now i guess i'll do some scrapbooking - finish up 2005 so i can get on to 2006 since tomorrow starts 2007.
if you want to come over to keep me company, you can.
just bring a scarf.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
This is the Pittman living room where Christmas "happens." It kinda looks like snow outside, but don't be fooled. The only wonderland to be found was in our hearts.
This is me Christmas morning sporting some of my new gifts including jammies (rolled up pants and top - all the girls got these on christmas eve), boots (from Emily), a "cutie pie" necklace because i lurve cherry pie and obviously, i'm cute, earrings from Amy, and I think that's it...
This is me Christmas morning sporting some of my new gifts including jammies (rolled up pants and top - all the girls got these on christmas eve), boots (from Emily), a "cutie pie" necklace because i lurve cherry pie and obviously, i'm cute, earrings from Amy, and I think that's it...
Sunday, December 24, 2006
For the first time in 20 years, we had the whole Maker family here for Christmas. Of course, 20 years ago, I was eight years old, and half of the cousins weren't even born yet. And I think Granny Baker was still alive.
But today, Grandma and Grandpa, Mom, Dad, Amy, Emily, me, Aunt Gloria (from Hawaii), Aunt Milly, Uncle Mike, Ruth, Jeff (Ruth's boyfriend), Mary, Robbie, Silas, Susan (all from Columbia) and Andee (our surrogate sister) all gathered together.
So Andee took a picture of the whole family in front of the living room tree. It was nice. I'll have pics posted soon. It's funny though, we never just have blood family. Jeff's in this one and last year's. Jeremy's the one before that. Then you get back into the David era. Men. They come and they go. But that's a blog for another time. Often the pictures have included pets too and so of course Sophie joined us (Amy's huge puppy lab), and of course my cats stayed up in my bedroom this year. Still the sentiment was good. The whole family together. And I like our current family including Andee and Jeff. If it were only snowing, it'd be perfect. My old house, my fun family, and snow outside. Just like Christmas used to be (pre-global warming: it hasn't snowed over Christmas in St. Jo Mo since I moved to Texas 6 years ago).
So, boyfriend or no boyfriend, snow or no snow, Santa or no Santa, (I'm beginning to wonder if all those things aren't imaginary!), Merry Christmas.
I hope you're with family, and if not family... friends.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Potter is purring again.
For those of you who know Potter, you might think, "huh? - he quit?" and i admit, the cat's a motor mouth. but this has been a rough week.
After being stuck the in car for almost 24 hours, he arrived chez pittman to meet Sophie, my sister's 8-month-old ginormous "puppy".
The initial introduction of the animals on Tuesday was not good. Picture the Griswold family Christmas when the squirrel flies out of the tree and Snot begins chasing it. that scene could have been filmed in my parent’s living room.
their house is pretty spacious and Potter took off and Sophie followed right along. They flew so fast through the house there was no chance to grab either of them. Potter fled to the top of the dinner table set with my mother's china and my father's lavish centerpiece. Sophie has the ability to jump that high. my sister drew in her breathe of disbelief but released it as Sophie took the faster track under the table, sparing hundreds of dollars and my mother's sanity. potter then jumped from the couch in the living room, soared over the three feet in circumference plant to the top of the grand piano and rounded at the bookshelf. Sophie followed under the piano around the corner and as potter headed behind the fully decorated and lit real Christmas tree; my family froze as we watch 80-pound lily leap toward the tree.
it could have been disastrous, but this time my father's sanity was spared and miraculously, Sophie didn't jump into the tree but behind it. we watched the tree wobble forward and i thought for sure it was going down, but as Potter fled the scene from behind the trunk full of presents, Sophie was caught and soon coaxed out and calmed down.
Potter was a wreck. He slept under the covers with me that night, terrified of the dog. My normally social, purring, "please pet me" pussycat was struck with fear and planted on my bed behind closed doors.
Over the past few days, Sophie has bounded into my bedroom (the cat's sanctuary) several times, and after watching big brother Zorba, Potter now knows how to hiss, spat and swat with the best of them.
In an effort to help him and Sophie become friends this afternoon, I held Potter in my arms as Sophie tried to sniff him and whimpered, begging to be loved. Potter hit him on the nose time and time again, smacking him so loudly everyone in the room could hear it. He'd shake with fear when Sophie would retreat defeated, but put his defenses back up when Sophie returned for "one last try."
Tonight when I brought Potter his favorite blanky that I had just washed, i tried to pick him up off my bed to put him on it and he practically wriggled out of my loving embrace and shrank near my pillow watching me. "Potter, are you mad at mommy?" I held the blanket up. "It's your blanky Potter, don't you want to lay on it?" He ignored me. And i'm not kidding, this cat loves this blanket.
Great, I thought. I've destroyed the sweetest, most loving cat in the world. Joy's gonna be so mad.
But then tonight when I came to bed and began petting and sweet talking him again, he snuggled right up to me and right onto his favorite blanket and began purring - for the first time since Tuesday. it's gotta be a record.
The menagerie is in full effect at the Pittman zoo. Feel free to come over for a visit. You may pet Potter and Sophie, but not at the same time, and don't feed the Zorba - you could lose a hand.
(Pittman household not responsible for bites, gouges, scratches, bruises or chewed up articles of anything.)
Enter the petting zoo at your own pace.
But I can promise you one good thing, you will get a purr from Potter.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Well, that was different.
My mom and I just threw a baby shower for a high school/college friend of mine who is (obviously) pregnant.
Since we grew up together in the church, there were of course church people here at the house. These are the people I am used to seeing once a year. At Christmas. At church. No biggie.
But then arrived Allison Bean and Runae I don't-remember-her-married-name and Elizabeth Buckner Hill, and suddenly I was back in college. Except I wasn't. I was in my house cordially greeting people i used to run around in my underwear with in the dormitory. Well, maybe not Allison and Runae, but E for sure. And it was kind of surreal. It was Buckner, but with children: two of them who sat down in the den my pledgeclass used to gather in once a year to snuggle under blankets, eat taco dip and talk about boys. Except they watched The Polar Express and played with blocks. E has offspring.
I have cats.
And I realize that a lot of people my age are married and have children, but that is so far from where I am right now (whether I want it to be or not) and so far from streaking the quad in college. How in the world did we get from there to here? Elizabeth was the first person I knew who had a nose ring (way before it was cliche) and now she has kids. I used to write shitty music and sing in bands, now I'm a reverend.
How did we get from there to here?
Little tiny decisions along the way. A scholarship application here, a school there, a date here, a marriage there, volunteering here, getting a job there, and like the little baby growing toes and fingers and organs inside my friend, suddenly all those little decisions we made make a whole person.
Always growing and changing.
"You are a beautiful, single professional..." I theraputically repeated to myself as I dressed for the party and snuck a shot of tequila with my equally beautiful, single, professional sister. No pressure. You're not married - no biggie. Marriage sucks for most people. You're not having babies - thank god. They're very expensive and get in the way of your career. Plus there's no room in your house for a crib, let alone a husband if you want to take the traditional route and go marriage then kids. But you could adopt. You've always wanted to. Once you get a stable job. Then you'll be a beautiful, single professional mother...
What the?
What was I thinking? Since when does marriage and motherhood make you whole? I admit, it's a goal of mine, and a worthy one, but I'm not incomplete because I haven't crossed that line yet. Sheesh.
Little decisions take us places. Some little decisons carry more weight than others, but they're all baby steps to being. Being. And whether it's running around my dormitory in my underwear or writing sermons, the little decisions to be who we are make us unique.
And so I will be uniquely me.
Beautiful, single, professional me.
My mom and I just threw a baby shower for a high school/college friend of mine who is (obviously) pregnant.
Since we grew up together in the church, there were of course church people here at the house. These are the people I am used to seeing once a year. At Christmas. At church. No biggie.
But then arrived Allison Bean and Runae I don't-remember-her-married-name and Elizabeth Buckner Hill, and suddenly I was back in college. Except I wasn't. I was in my house cordially greeting people i used to run around in my underwear with in the dormitory. Well, maybe not Allison and Runae, but E for sure. And it was kind of surreal. It was Buckner, but with children: two of them who sat down in the den my pledgeclass used to gather in once a year to snuggle under blankets, eat taco dip and talk about boys. Except they watched The Polar Express and played with blocks. E has offspring.
I have cats.
And I realize that a lot of people my age are married and have children, but that is so far from where I am right now (whether I want it to be or not) and so far from streaking the quad in college. How in the world did we get from there to here? Elizabeth was the first person I knew who had a nose ring (way before it was cliche) and now she has kids. I used to write shitty music and sing in bands, now I'm a reverend.
How did we get from there to here?
Little tiny decisions along the way. A scholarship application here, a school there, a date here, a marriage there, volunteering here, getting a job there, and like the little baby growing toes and fingers and organs inside my friend, suddenly all those little decisions we made make a whole person.
Always growing and changing.
"You are a beautiful, single professional..." I theraputically repeated to myself as I dressed for the party and snuck a shot of tequila with my equally beautiful, single, professional sister. No pressure. You're not married - no biggie. Marriage sucks for most people. You're not having babies - thank god. They're very expensive and get in the way of your career. Plus there's no room in your house for a crib, let alone a husband if you want to take the traditional route and go marriage then kids. But you could adopt. You've always wanted to. Once you get a stable job. Then you'll be a beautiful, single professional mother...
What the?
What was I thinking? Since when does marriage and motherhood make you whole? I admit, it's a goal of mine, and a worthy one, but I'm not incomplete because I haven't crossed that line yet. Sheesh.
Little decisions take us places. Some little decisons carry more weight than others, but they're all baby steps to being. Being. And whether it's running around my dormitory in my underwear or writing sermons, the little decisions to be who we are make us unique.
And so I will be uniquely me.
Beautiful, single, professional me.
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