I know what you're thinking, "Really? 31? What's so special about the year you're 31?" Well, nothing really. I don't even like being 31, mostly because it's an odd number and I have an irrational aversion to odd numbers (with the exception of multiples of 5). But another reason being 31 isn't so great is because it means I'm truly, solidly in my thirties (sigh). Thirty is exciting (at least to everyone around you who isn't turning 30), but nobody gets excited for you when you say you're 31.
But being 31 isn't why I've made a list again. I'm doing it because I loved my thirty list! I had so much fun, learned so much about myself and God's will for my life, and gained a new sense of purpose. I spent some time this weekend with a friend who said that we should wake up everyday with purpose. She's right, and this is something I have struggled with (unless I can count waking up on Saturdays intending to stay in my pajamas all day as a purpose). I believe my ultimate purpose is to live my life for the Lord and to love the people he's placed in my life, but the bible says, "...whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God" 1 Colossians 10:31. Although the items on my list are small, together, they give me goals to work toward and make my life more interesting as I'm living out my bigger purpose for the Lord!
Here is my list of "Thirty-One Things To Do While I'm Thirty-One"
1. Castro Theater Sound of Music Sing along and/or Dueling Pianos at Johnny Foley's Pub
2. Have five friends teach me how to make their favorite dish (Taking volunteers! It has to be something I will eat, as I'm trying to expand my repretoire of dishes)
3. Get jumper cables and learn to jump a car battery
4. Get a massage
5. Read a “Babysitter’s Club” book and relive my youth
6. Watch 5 movies from my youth (preferably with Jeni and Emily):
-My Father the Hero
-Far and Away
-Pure Country
-Speed
-A Walk in the Clouds
7. Try 5 new restaurants (taking suggestions!)
8. Learn to drive a stick shift
9. Go to Yosemite
10. Update the pictures in my frames
11. Grow my own tomatoes
12. See a show (Wicked?)
13. Memorize 5 new bible verses
14. Camp by myself (not alone, but without my family to help me do everything)
15. Send a gift to Asnaku (World Vision adopted child) and her family
16. Plan a special day with Lauren (iFly? Repelling? Movie in Park?)
17. Plan a special day with Braden (Laser tag? Tandem bike? Caverns?)
18. Plan a special day with Grayson (Jelly Belly Factory? Go karts?)
19. Road Trip (destination unknown at the moment)
20. Buy an item of clothing that is out of my style boundaries
21. Make a scarf (knit or sew)
22. Take a picnic to the Monastery in Vina (Photograph it)
23. Watch a sunrise in a new, interesting place
24. Keep a prayer journal
25. Organize my hall closets
26. Go apple picking
27. Stop drinking soda for 3 months and see what happens
28. Pay off someone’s layaway at Christmas
29. Learn how to play chess
30. Use a chainsaw
31. Wild Card! (Do something spontaneous)
Yes, that's right, I put "spontenaeity" on my list of things to do. This just means that I want to always be looking for something fun and spontaneous to do. Maybe it will be flying somewhere, maybe I'll start a food fight, maybe I'll ride in a hot air balloon....I'm leaving #31 open for the moment!
If you haven't made a list, I whole-heartedly encourage you to! If you haven't read why I decided to make a list last year, check out my first blog post, "The Beginning".
*I reserve the right to amend my list whenever I darn well please.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
#29 Take a cooking class
I love to bake, but a cook, I am not. Lately, I've been pondering the reasons why I’m not a good cook, as well as why I don’t really like to cook. This afternoon, when setting out to make chicken gyros with tzatziki sauce, I discovered what I believe is the root of my problem.
I’m lazy.
I had a mad hankering for these gyros that I had at restaurant in Disneyland last month and decided to try and make them. I found a recipe for chicken gyros with tzatziki sauce that a friend pinned on pinterest. Now, already, I was cutting corners like I was running laps in PE again. See, the gyros I had at Disneyland were beef...but I’m not good at cooking beef. I know how to cook chicken, so this recipe would work. But I studied the recipe and it looked pretty complicated. The sauce required straining the water out of yogurt (overnight if possible), then shredding cucumber (that had been peeled and seeded) and straining the water out of it, too. Hmmmm. Come to think of it, the sauce I had in Disneyland tasted sorta like this dill dip that my grocery store carries. My laziness strikes again and I cut yet another corner (and this was a pretty big one).
I went to the grocery store and got some chicken breasts. These would have to be marinated, according to the recipe. As I was passing the butcher case, the fajita chicken caught my eye. Chicken already cut….and marinated….and with bell peppers, to boot! I was sure the fajita marinade would be close enough to gyro marinade. Mexican, Greek...close enough, right (insert sarcastic smirk)? “I’d like a pound of that fajita chicken, please,” I asked as I put the prepackaged chicken breasts back. Another corner cut.
Next, I went to find pita bread. My small town grocery store was out of authentic pita bread (actually, I'm not even sure they carry it...Pita bread is too exotic). I got some flatbread pockets that were similar, but not quite the same. For a minute, I thought, “Maybe I could try making….” But that thought was taken captive before it was complete. C’mon, like I was really going to make my own pita bread!? I was giggling to myself in the bread aisle.
So, I came home, and in about 15 minutes, I had a pita pocket that not-so-closely resembled what I had set out to make in the first place. They were good…well, edible….but not really what I’d intended to make.
All this to say, I’m a lazy cook. Of course, my distaste for cooking might also have something to do with my kitchen. My house was built in the 1940's and nothing has been done to my kitchen since. It has vintage charm, but it has less counter space than a Strawberry Shortcake kitchen I had when I was four and fifty percent of my storage space is accessible only when I'm standing on the counter. I can't neglect to mention the absence of a dishwasher. Show me a person who loves to cook, and I'll show you their dishwasher.
I thought maybe if I took a cooking class, I’d get a little more enthused about cooking. I found a restaurant in a neighboring town that gave classes twice a month. I saw that the next class they were giving was a Paleo Class. If you don’t know what “Paleo” is, you’ve been living in a cave. If you eat Paleo, you might as well be living in a cave. The Paleo Diet is based on eating like the caveman (Paleolithic man). No grains, no dairy. Just meat, fruit, and veggies. Not something I could do and still be nice to people. But, my friend, Trin, was considering “going Paleo”, so I invited her along, as well as my sister-in-law, Jennifer.
When we showed up to the restaurant, they seated about 15 of us around a counter in the small kitchen that surrounded the chef’s cooking area. We didn’t get to help cook (which is what I really wanted to do), but we watched as the chef explained what she was making. We got to sample everything she cooked. Unfortunately, I’m not exactly what you would call a foodie. And this was foodie food.
The Paleo Diet uses coconut flour as a substitute for traditional flour and coconut milk to substitute real milk. Now, I’m a huge coconut fan, but I believe it has its place….and its place is in dessert….not dinner. Coconut creme pie, macaroons, Almond Joy bars, German chocolate frosting...all acceptable uses for coconut. I know, this is a rather narrow minded view, but when it comes to food, that’s exactly what I am…narrow minded.
I did enjoy the yam chips, the blood orange and beet salad, and the coconut custard (the use of coconut milk was acceptable in this case, because it was a dessert). I wasn’t, however, too keen on the coconut shrimp, garnet yam bisque, fish cakes, or the tortilla espanola. While it was a fun night out with my friends, it didn’t exactly revolutionize my attitude toward culinary pursuits.
I’m not abandoning the hope that someday I will enjoy cooking...or that I'll be good at it. Maybe it'll be once I get a kitchen with more counter space and a dishwasher. Maybe I just need to find the right recipes. Or maybe it will be when I have someone to cook for, or someone to cook with, that I finally come around to the culinary arts.
I’m lazy.
I had a mad hankering for these gyros that I had at restaurant in Disneyland last month and decided to try and make them. I found a recipe for chicken gyros with tzatziki sauce that a friend pinned on pinterest. Now, already, I was cutting corners like I was running laps in PE again. See, the gyros I had at Disneyland were beef...but I’m not good at cooking beef. I know how to cook chicken, so this recipe would work. But I studied the recipe and it looked pretty complicated. The sauce required straining the water out of yogurt (overnight if possible), then shredding cucumber (that had been peeled and seeded) and straining the water out of it, too. Hmmmm. Come to think of it, the sauce I had in Disneyland tasted sorta like this dill dip that my grocery store carries. My laziness strikes again and I cut yet another corner (and this was a pretty big one).
I went to the grocery store and got some chicken breasts. These would have to be marinated, according to the recipe. As I was passing the butcher case, the fajita chicken caught my eye. Chicken already cut….and marinated….and with bell peppers, to boot! I was sure the fajita marinade would be close enough to gyro marinade. Mexican, Greek...close enough, right (insert sarcastic smirk)? “I’d like a pound of that fajita chicken, please,” I asked as I put the prepackaged chicken breasts back. Another corner cut.
Next, I went to find pita bread. My small town grocery store was out of authentic pita bread (actually, I'm not even sure they carry it...Pita bread is too exotic). I got some flatbread pockets that were similar, but not quite the same. For a minute, I thought, “Maybe I could try making….” But that thought was taken captive before it was complete. C’mon, like I was really going to make my own pita bread!? I was giggling to myself in the bread aisle.So, I came home, and in about 15 minutes, I had a pita pocket that not-so-closely resembled what I had set out to make in the first place. They were good…well, edible….but not really what I’d intended to make.
All this to say, I’m a lazy cook. Of course, my distaste for cooking might also have something to do with my kitchen. My house was built in the 1940's and nothing has been done to my kitchen since. It has vintage charm, but it has less counter space than a Strawberry Shortcake kitchen I had when I was four and fifty percent of my storage space is accessible only when I'm standing on the counter. I can't neglect to mention the absence of a dishwasher. Show me a person who loves to cook, and I'll show you their dishwasher.
I thought maybe if I took a cooking class, I’d get a little more enthused about cooking. I found a restaurant in a neighboring town that gave classes twice a month. I saw that the next class they were giving was a Paleo Class. If you don’t know what “Paleo” is, you’ve been living in a cave. If you eat Paleo, you might as well be living in a cave. The Paleo Diet is based on eating like the caveman (Paleolithic man). No grains, no dairy. Just meat, fruit, and veggies. Not something I could do and still be nice to people. But, my friend, Trin, was considering “going Paleo”, so I invited her along, as well as my sister-in-law, Jennifer.
When we showed up to the restaurant, they seated about 15 of us around a counter in the small kitchen that surrounded the chef’s cooking area. We didn’t get to help cook (which is what I really wanted to do), but we watched as the chef explained what she was making. We got to sample everything she cooked. Unfortunately, I’m not exactly what you would call a foodie. And this was foodie food.
The Paleo Diet uses coconut flour as a substitute for traditional flour and coconut milk to substitute real milk. Now, I’m a huge coconut fan, but I believe it has its place….and its place is in dessert….not dinner. Coconut creme pie, macaroons, Almond Joy bars, German chocolate frosting...all acceptable uses for coconut. I know, this is a rather narrow minded view, but when it comes to food, that’s exactly what I am…narrow minded.
I did enjoy the yam chips, the blood orange and beet salad, and the coconut custard (the use of coconut milk was acceptable in this case, because it was a dessert). I wasn’t, however, too keen on the coconut shrimp, garnet yam bisque, fish cakes, or the tortilla espanola. While it was a fun night out with my friends, it didn’t exactly revolutionize my attitude toward culinary pursuits.
I’m not abandoning the hope that someday I will enjoy cooking...or that I'll be good at it. Maybe it'll be once I get a kitchen with more counter space and a dishwasher. Maybe I just need to find the right recipes. Or maybe it will be when I have someone to cook for, or someone to cook with, that I finally come around to the culinary arts.
Proverbs 31:15 describes a wife of noble character:
“She gets up while it is still dark; she provides food
for her family and portions for her servant girls.”
fiddlesticks…two strikes.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Update: Read a book by Jane Austen
A few posts ago, I wrote about reading a Jane Austin book for the first time. I enjoyed it and want to read another. One of my oldest and dearest friends, Emily, (old meaning we've known eachother a long time, not that she's old...she's actually six months younger than I am) told me that she's reading Persuasion, Jane Austen's last book and that I should read it with her. Emily is one of the friends I took speed reading with in high school. She was one of my book swapping buddies. She also happens to live in ALASKA (heavy, dramatic sigh). I mapquested it, and she is approximately 3,078 miles away from me (this is if I drove, which would take about 58 hours). Even though she lives this far away, I still think about her every day, and thought it would be nice if we were reading the same book at the same time.
So, I looked at my local library, and they didn't have Persuasion, which, in retrospect, is actually a good thing because if this Jane Austen book goes as slowly as the last (and I have a sneaking suspicion it's going to take even longer), I would have had to renew it about 12 times. So, I went to a used book store, but they can't keep them in stock because of all the AP class-taking high schoolers who are reading Jane Austen (the shopowner said kids choose her because all of her books have had movies made of them and they like to watch the movies instead of reading the books. Cheaters.). My next stop was Barnes and Noble. What I found there would, I believe, revolutionize my Jane Austen experience.
The Annotated Persuasion by Jane Austen.
What this means is that every other page of the book has notes on it. Notes explaining colloquiolisms from Regency England, showing diagrams, descriptions, maps, and pictures of things described in the text, and even insights into the actions and dialogue of the characters. For example, did you know that having "the gapes" is a fit of yawning? Or that doorbells were a recent phenomenon during Jane's time? Or that pattens were metal and wood contraptions that went over one's shoes, elevating them off the ground to keep their feed dry during the winter? I'd like to get myself a pair of pattens.
Reading the annotated version of a novel is like having a Lit professor sitting on the couch on one side of you, and a History professor on the other side! (I actually read in bed, but I thought that might make for a creepy analogy). Although the annotated version of Persuasion is going to make reading it more interesting and more informative, it's probably going make it take twice as long as it normally would. So, Em, you might finish Persuasion before me. Although, you do have three kids...
So, I looked at my local library, and they didn't have Persuasion, which, in retrospect, is actually a good thing because if this Jane Austen book goes as slowly as the last (and I have a sneaking suspicion it's going to take even longer), I would have had to renew it about 12 times. So, I went to a used book store, but they can't keep them in stock because of all the AP class-taking high schoolers who are reading Jane Austen (the shopowner said kids choose her because all of her books have had movies made of them and they like to watch the movies instead of reading the books. Cheaters.). My next stop was Barnes and Noble. What I found there would, I believe, revolutionize my Jane Austen experience.
The Annotated Persuasion by Jane Austen.
Reading the annotated version of a novel is like having a Lit professor sitting on the couch on one side of you, and a History professor on the other side! (I actually read in bed, but I thought that might make for a creepy analogy). Although the annotated version of Persuasion is going to make reading it more interesting and more informative, it's probably going make it take twice as long as it normally would. So, Em, you might finish Persuasion before me. Although, you do have three kids...
Monday, January 23, 2012
#23 Play in puddles
Seven years ago, my family got a surprise….a pleasant, life changing surprise. My brother and sister-in-law weren’t planning on having another baby. They already had a girl and a boy. But as is often the case, God had other plans. Seven Decembers ago, Grayson was born and added even more light to my life.
Grayson loves to eat. When he comes to my house, he walks in my door, straight through my living room and into my kitchen to scope out what I‘ve got in my fridge. He especially loves fruit (I affectionately refer to him as "my little fruit bat"). If left to his own devices, he would, at four years old, eat an entire bag of grapes on his own! He also loves cell phones (ipods, ipads, etc.). When he was little and he would see me, he’d come pat me down, looking for my phone. The only reason he doesn’t do it anymore is because mine isn’t a smart phone and doesn’t hold his more sophisticated interest. Grayson also loves to get messy. I knew when I put “Play in puddles” on my list that Grayson would wholeheartedly “be down” with it.
On Thanksgiving day, Joe and Jennifer were hosting a small thanksgiving dinner for the eight of us. I took my rubber boots, as it had just rained and they have a gravel driveway and live by a poorly maintained road. I’m glad I took advantage of this opportunity, as it didn’t rain again before my birthday! I pulled on my rubber boots and announced that I was going to jump in mud puddles. Grayson dropped what he was doing and darted to his room to pull his boots on.
I’d originally thought that jumping in huge, sprawling puddles of water would be ideal, but I discovered something this Thanksgiving day: potholes make for the very best puddle jumping. You see, a pothole is deep, with walls that, when jumped into, cause the water to shoot straight up into the jumper’s face. Grayson and I had mud splatters all over us before our jumping session was over. We had SO much fun!
Grayson loves to eat. When he comes to my house, he walks in my door, straight through my living room and into my kitchen to scope out what I‘ve got in my fridge. He especially loves fruit (I affectionately refer to him as "my little fruit bat"). If left to his own devices, he would, at four years old, eat an entire bag of grapes on his own! He also loves cell phones (ipods, ipads, etc.). When he was little and he would see me, he’d come pat me down, looking for my phone. The only reason he doesn’t do it anymore is because mine isn’t a smart phone and doesn’t hold his more sophisticated interest. Grayson also loves to get messy. I knew when I put “Play in puddles” on my list that Grayson would wholeheartedly “be down” with it.
An Archive of Messy
On Thanksgiving day, Joe and Jennifer were hosting a small thanksgiving dinner for the eight of us. I took my rubber boots, as it had just rained and they have a gravel driveway and live by a poorly maintained road. I’m glad I took advantage of this opportunity, as it didn’t rain again before my birthday! I pulled on my rubber boots and announced that I was going to jump in mud puddles. Grayson dropped what he was doing and darted to his room to pull his boots on.
I’d originally thought that jumping in huge, sprawling puddles of water would be ideal, but I discovered something this Thanksgiving day: potholes make for the very best puddle jumping. You see, a pothole is deep, with walls that, when jumped into, cause the water to shoot straight up into the jumper’s face. Grayson and I had mud splatters all over us before our jumping session was over. We had SO much fun!
When I’d put this item on my list, I expected to jump in puddles with my niece and both of my nephews, but Lauren and Braden where occupied with other pursuits. While I would love to have had all of them join me, I cherish this memory that I share only with Gray Gray. My sweet, mischievous, precocious, messy, impish little puddle jumper. My Boo Bear.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
#8 Take a trip
I love to travel. How much? Sometimes, when the travel bug bites me, I get on Google Earth and I take virtual trips….yes, you heard me. On Google Earth, you can get a bird’s eye view of almost anywhere it the world! I’ve seen the Pyramids of Giza this way, flown over the Sacre Coeur in Paris, and admired the Amalfi Coast of Italy. It’s not the same, but it takes the edge off. I can’t even watch “Passport to Europe with Samantha Brown” anymore because I spend the whole half hour plotting ways to steal her job (covetousness is an ugly thing). My love for traveling is ironic, actually. Growing up (like, until Jr. High) I couldn't stay the night away from my parents. I couldn't go to slumber parties, sleepovers, or camp. But now, I love to travel. I love airports, train stations, and subways (although bus stations I don’t care for….I had a run in with a man in his underwear at a bus station in Wales once. I think bus stations are the armpit of society). I love planning trips, packing for them, and looking at maps. I love visiting museums, monuments, and other tourist traps. I love seeing things I've read about or seen in books. I love eating at different restaurants, shopping, and taking pictures! I love interacting with people different than myself, especially if they have a great accent! I even love when things don't go as planned, because it usually makes for a great story. Even from my limited travels, I have an abundance of stories and memories....but I want more.
So I put “Take a trip” on my list. I know, I know, this one is pretty vague. But I did that on purpose. While I would love to have put, “Go to Paris” or “Visit New York” on my list, I had to be realistic. While being a teacher affords me plenty of time to travel, it hasn’t provided me with an overflowing piggy bank. I made #8 “Take a trip” and left it open for inspiration and opportunity.
Well, I actually squeezed several little trips into this year. Nothing exotic, but fun and memorable nonetheless. I went to Portland thrice! I normally make one trip to Portland in the summer to visit one of my very best friends, and former college roommate, Jenn. She called me in February to tell me that she was engaged! I was just starting a week off from school when she called, so I booked a flight for my first of three trips I would make for the wedding. There was a...
Dress shopping trip (the week following her engagement!)…
a bridal shower trip…
and a wedding trip…
Two days after Jenn's wedding, I went to join my family in Fort Bragg. My family escapes the heat of summer and camps in Fort Bragg for two weeks every July. There are usually anwhere from 15 to 20 of us camping together. We circle the trailers (or in my case, a tent) and we eat, play on the beach, relax, eat, ride bikes, take walks, eat, make s’mores, go into town to shop, read, and eat.
When talking with my sister-in-law, Jennifer (different than Jenn and Jeni…yes, it gets confusing sometimes) about what to get my niece and nephews for Christmas, we decided that they already have enough “stuff”. We thought, “Wouldn’t it be fun to surprise them with a trip to Disneyland?” My parents booked the flights (it would be the kids’ first time flying), the hotel, and the park tickets. We even booked a limo to take us from the airport to our hotel, as it was only slightly more than a shuttle. It was my dad's first time in a limo! We left on Christmas day for Disneyland and we had a blast (with about 80,000 other people)!
Jenn (the newlywed) came to visit in December and we took a mini-vacay to San Francisco. It’s been a dream of ours to visit New York City during Christmas time. San Francisco at Christmas time was our budget friendly alternative. It didn’t disappoint, either! I even drove there (I'd never driven in downtown San Francisco before)!
We stayed at a fancy hotel...
Rode the cable cars
Ice skated in Union Square
Went to a Men and Boy's Christmas Concert at Grace Cathedral
Prayed at Tiffany’s
And ate very well!
Although I would travel anywhere if the opportunity presented itself, here is my top ten list of trips I‘d LOVE to take. (Some of these places I've already visited (albeit briefly), but they were so great, I want to go back!)
1. Paris, France
2. Florence, Italy and Tuscany
3. New York City at Christmas (or anytime, really)
4. Salzburg (It looks beautiful in the winter, but a summer “Sound of Music“ Tour would be great, too)
5. Ireland (Castles, the Blarney Stone, and Chips and Vinegar!)
6. Venice, Italy (Gondola ride, please!)
7. Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada
8. England (Jane Austen Tour, perhaps)
9. The Holy Land (To walk where Jesus walked!)
10. Somewhere Tropical…as long as there’s white sand, warm, blue-green water, and a hammock. I don’t discriminate!
Someday, somehow, I plan on making it to at least some of these far off destinations. In the meantime, I've got Google Earth and little adventures close to home.
Happy Trails!
So I put “Take a trip” on my list. I know, I know, this one is pretty vague. But I did that on purpose. While I would love to have put, “Go to Paris” or “Visit New York” on my list, I had to be realistic. While being a teacher affords me plenty of time to travel, it hasn’t provided me with an overflowing piggy bank. I made #8 “Take a trip” and left it open for inspiration and opportunity.
Well, I actually squeezed several little trips into this year. Nothing exotic, but fun and memorable nonetheless. I went to Portland thrice! I normally make one trip to Portland in the summer to visit one of my very best friends, and former college roommate, Jenn. She called me in February to tell me that she was engaged! I was just starting a week off from school when she called, so I booked a flight for my first of three trips I would make for the wedding. There was a...
Dress shopping trip (the week following her engagement!)…
 |
| Isn't my friend a beautiful bride?! |
a bridal shower trip…
 |
| Jenn's shower theme was "Lemons and Lavender" |
and a wedding trip…
 |
| After my Maid of Honor toast |
 |
| Getting ready for the ceremony! |
 |
| Yep, that's me, leaping for the bouquet. I got it! |
Two days after Jenn's wedding, I went to join my family in Fort Bragg. My family escapes the heat of summer and camps in Fort Bragg for two weeks every July. There are usually anwhere from 15 to 20 of us camping together. We circle the trailers (or in my case, a tent) and we eat, play on the beach, relax, eat, ride bikes, take walks, eat, make s’mores, go into town to shop, read, and eat.
 |
| Reading on the beach...my favorite! |
 |
| I let the water get close, but it's too cold to swim in! |
When talking with my sister-in-law, Jennifer (different than Jenn and Jeni…yes, it gets confusing sometimes) about what to get my niece and nephews for Christmas, we decided that they already have enough “stuff”. We thought, “Wouldn’t it be fun to surprise them with a trip to Disneyland?” My parents booked the flights (it would be the kids’ first time flying), the hotel, and the park tickets. We even booked a limo to take us from the airport to our hotel, as it was only slightly more than a shuttle. It was my dad's first time in a limo! We left on Christmas day for Disneyland and we had a blast (with about 80,000 other people)!
 |
| The kids' first time flying! |
 |
| Getting away from the crowds for a snack! |
 |
| Riding the Double Decker Bus down Main Street, Disneyland |
We stayed at a fancy hotel...
Rode the cable cars
Ice skated in Union Square
Went to a Men and Boy's Christmas Concert at Grace Cathedral
Prayed at Tiffany’s
And ate very well!
Although I would travel anywhere if the opportunity presented itself, here is my top ten list of trips I‘d LOVE to take. (Some of these places I've already visited (albeit briefly), but they were so great, I want to go back!)
1. Paris, France
2. Florence, Italy and Tuscany
3. New York City at Christmas (or anytime, really)
4. Salzburg (It looks beautiful in the winter, but a summer “Sound of Music“ Tour would be great, too)
5. Ireland (Castles, the Blarney Stone, and Chips and Vinegar!)
6. Venice, Italy (Gondola ride, please!)
7. Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada
8. England (Jane Austen Tour, perhaps)
9. The Holy Land (To walk where Jesus walked!)
10. Somewhere Tropical…as long as there’s white sand, warm, blue-green water, and a hammock. I don’t discriminate!
Someday, somehow, I plan on making it to at least some of these far off destinations. In the meantime, I've got Google Earth and little adventures close to home.
Happy Trails!
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
#25 Cut down my own Christmas Tree
For years, my family and I have cut down our own Christmas trees. Until three years ago, we went to Christmas tree farms to cut them. But three years ago, we decided to harvest our trees from the wilds of Lassen National Park. We took Thanksgiving leftovers for turkey sandwiches and had a picnic in the snow, then headed out to find our trees. I found the perfect tree and my brother cut it down for me. He’s always cut my tree down for me. I’ve tried cutting them down before, but I could never keep the saw in the same spot. The result was a hacked up tree trunk….that was still perfectly intact. So, I did the humane thing from that point on, and got a man to do it. But not this year! No, I was determined to cut my own Christmas tree down, even if it was to the detriment of the tree. Even if it took me an hour. Even if it cost me a limb (pun intended).
So we set off on our trek for the perfect trees two days after Thanksgiving. After a considerable amount of walking uphill, I found my perfect tree. It wasn't perfect, but it was perfect for me. It was reminiscent of a tree that Dr. Seuss might have put in one of his books. The trunk was beautifully crooked. It had character, and it was going to be mine. I knelt in the snow with a handsaw and set about cutting down my crooked tree as my family looked on. I asked my brother where I should start sawing it. Being the helpful brother he is, he told me to cut “that big round branch in the middle”. He joked, but I didn’t know if there was a certain rule about how far up on the trunk to cut a Christmas tree. There is, after all, such a rule for cutting roses (you have to cut just above the first leaf with five leaflets). Joe showed me where I should begin and I moved the saw back and forth. I got it started without scarring it too badly, and it really didn’t take me as long as I thought it would. About halfway through, my niece Lauren pushed on the tree for me to make it easier to move the saw back and forth. I yelled, “Timber!” and the tree fell. Now that I’d cut it down, I had to drag it back to the pickup.
Last year, when we hunted for Christmas trees, a storm had just passed through and left behind two feet of snow. I found my Christmas tree at the base of a hill and had to drag it back up through the two feet of snow to the pickup. I stopped halfway up the hill to catch my breath and, between huffs and puffs, yelled into the sky, “I need a husband!”. There have been many occasions in the past 6 years that I’ve been on my own when I’ve wished I’d had a husband around to do those practical things that need doing. I was awoken at three o'clock one night by the pinging of rain drops on the gutter downspout outside my window. I had to go out in the rain in my pajamas and fix it. I wanted a husband then. Trying to zip the back of a dress, moving furniture, replacing blown fuses, changing flat tires, electronics on the fritz, these are all times when I’ve wanted a husband around. (There are more than just practical reasons, of course, I’m not JUST looking for a handyman).
But there have been times of triumph that I’ve done things myself and felt quite proud. I assembled my own bike (and my friend‘s husband only had to make ONE minor adjustment!). I’ve unclogged drains. I’ve caulked my bathtub. I fixed my door when it wouldn't shut after my house "settled" for the winter. I’ve managed to zip up dresses (although probably looked quite ridiculous doing it). I’ve moved some pretty heavy furniture (although probably looked quite ridiculous doing it, as well) and now, I’ve cut down my own Christmas tree. In the meantime, for those other things that arise that I don’t have the skills or brawn to do, God has blessed me with a dad, a brother, and friends who are kind enough to help.
"But my God shall supply all your need,
Despite the struggle, I’ve come to realize I am grateful for the things I’ve learned as a result of being alone. I’m not afraid of being home alone, although my friends sometimes worry about me living by myself. They've offered to get a very large pair of work boots to leave by my front door to deter any would-be ne'er do wells. I’m comfortable traveling by myself, I know how to light the pilot light in my furnace, and I kill my own bugs (except for cockroaches…I am peacefully coexisting with a really fat one at the moment because the thought of squishing him gives me the willies).
Like Rosie the Riveter, who went to work only because American men were all at war, I’m making the most of being man-less and learning some new, useful skills! (Although caulking my bathtub can’t really compare to building airplanes).
It is my prayer, that somewhere out in the world (hopefully not too far away) is the man God made for me, and he's struggling to iron his shirts. Maybe he just burnt his dinner. Perhaps he has trouble getting stains out of his clothes and he's turned all his whites pink. He might even still be using milk crates for end tables (shudder). And maybe, just maybe, he's out there somewhere trying to tie his tie and wishing he had a wife to help him. If he is, then he's probably praying as earnestly for me as I am for him...at least I like to think so.
 |
| My family searching for our trees |
So we set off on our trek for the perfect trees two days after Thanksgiving. After a considerable amount of walking uphill, I found my perfect tree. It wasn't perfect, but it was perfect for me. It was reminiscent of a tree that Dr. Seuss might have put in one of his books. The trunk was beautifully crooked. It had character, and it was going to be mine. I knelt in the snow with a handsaw and set about cutting down my crooked tree as my family looked on. I asked my brother where I should start sawing it. Being the helpful brother he is, he told me to cut “that big round branch in the middle”. He joked, but I didn’t know if there was a certain rule about how far up on the trunk to cut a Christmas tree. There is, after all, such a rule for cutting roses (you have to cut just above the first leaf with five leaflets). Joe showed me where I should begin and I moved the saw back and forth. I got it started without scarring it too badly, and it really didn’t take me as long as I thought it would. About halfway through, my niece Lauren pushed on the tree for me to make it easier to move the saw back and forth. I yelled, “Timber!” and the tree fell. Now that I’d cut it down, I had to drag it back to the pickup.  |
| My perfectly imperfect tree |
Last year, when we hunted for Christmas trees, a storm had just passed through and left behind two feet of snow. I found my Christmas tree at the base of a hill and had to drag it back up through the two feet of snow to the pickup. I stopped halfway up the hill to catch my breath and, between huffs and puffs, yelled into the sky, “I need a husband!”. There have been many occasions in the past 6 years that I’ve been on my own when I’ve wished I’d had a husband around to do those practical things that need doing. I was awoken at three o'clock one night by the pinging of rain drops on the gutter downspout outside my window. I had to go out in the rain in my pajamas and fix it. I wanted a husband then. Trying to zip the back of a dress, moving furniture, replacing blown fuses, changing flat tires, electronics on the fritz, these are all times when I’ve wanted a husband around. (There are more than just practical reasons, of course, I’m not JUST looking for a handyman).
 |
| Christmas tree cutting two years ago...dragging my own tree |
But there have been times of triumph that I’ve done things myself and felt quite proud. I assembled my own bike (and my friend‘s husband only had to make ONE minor adjustment!). I’ve unclogged drains. I’ve caulked my bathtub. I fixed my door when it wouldn't shut after my house "settled" for the winter. I’ve managed to zip up dresses (although probably looked quite ridiculous doing it). I’ve moved some pretty heavy furniture (although probably looked quite ridiculous doing it, as well) and now, I’ve cut down my own Christmas tree. In the meantime, for those other things that arise that I don’t have the skills or brawn to do, God has blessed me with a dad, a brother, and friends who are kind enough to help.
"But my God shall supply all your need,
according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus."
Philippians 4:19
 |
| The bike I assembled on my own |
Despite the struggle, I’ve come to realize I am grateful for the things I’ve learned as a result of being alone. I’m not afraid of being home alone, although my friends sometimes worry about me living by myself. They've offered to get a very large pair of work boots to leave by my front door to deter any would-be ne'er do wells. I’m comfortable traveling by myself, I know how to light the pilot light in my furnace, and I kill my own bugs (except for cockroaches…I am peacefully coexisting with a really fat one at the moment because the thought of squishing him gives me the willies).
Like Rosie the Riveter, who went to work only because American men were all at war, I’m making the most of being man-less and learning some new, useful skills! (Although caulking my bathtub can’t really compare to building airplanes).
 |
| Rosie the Riveter |
Monday, January 16, 2012
#21 Makeover a piece of furniture
I have a problem. An obsession, really. I’m addicted to chairs. There is but one of me living in my humble home, and 12 chairs. Nine of these are wooden chairs. None of them are new, and all of them were purchased from thrift stores and yard sales. Most of my home furnishings were, in fact.
I started furnishing my home long before I had one (like learning to tie a tie before I have a man to tie one on). I started buying items when I was in high school. My mom and I would wake up early on Saturday mornings during the summer to go to yard sales. We'd get a newspaper, donuts, and head to one of our neighboring towns to hit as many sales as we could. All who know me can attest that I despise waking up early. However, cheap old things and chocolate donuts are a heady combination that is nearly impossible for me to resist.
My parents were gracious enough to store my purchases and projects in their garage while I was in college! Some girls have a Hope Chest….I had a Hope Garage! Finally, in 2005 (okay, so I guess my parents stored my collection a little longer than just through college), I found the perfect one bedroom duplex. Wood floors, built ins, original hardware…just the place I’d always imagined for all the things I’d collected!
I’ve collected more over the years, and my house is bursting at the seams! I added a chair about a year and half ago that I’d purchased at a Thrift store. It was a cute shade of pale pink, but the paint was chipping. Now, normally, this would be a good thing….I love chipped paint! But underneath the pale pink was a burgundy color that just wouldn’t do. After it sat around my house for about a year, I decided to do something about it.
On my list was to makeover a piece of furniture. To be honest, I’d intended to makeover something a little more complex than this, but when you’re purchasing things at thrift stores and yard sales, you are on an unpredictable time table and success is often out of your control. I’ve had people ask me to decorate their homes like mine, but I am quick to explain to them that my house is the product of a decade and a half of shopping. Some trips to the thrift store and Saturdays yard-saling, many in fact, are fruitless. I wasn’t able to find a piece that inspired me this year (or that I wanted to fork money over for, or that I would have a place for), so I made over the little pink chair.
I painted it a cream color, then upholstered the seat in a large checked fabric. The fabric I used is actually an old sample square from a fabric store. The wood I used to cover the seat of the chair started out covering the whole seat but I had my dad cut it down for me. My parents are both very handy, which really comes in, well, handy.
While not complex, the makeover was still a success. I took an old, chipped, ugly chair and made it new again. I've given something old a new purpose. A new beginning. It made me think of the changes Christ makes in us when we confess our sins and ask for His redemption in our lives.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation;
So now, my newest chair fits in very well with the others in my home. Although they don’t all fit very well at all. Some just sit along the wall because there‘s no other place for them to be. I suppose it’s time I place a moratorium on buying chairs…until I find a really cute one, that is! ; )
 |
| My family of chairs |
I started furnishing my home long before I had one (like learning to tie a tie before I have a man to tie one on). I started buying items when I was in high school. My mom and I would wake up early on Saturday mornings during the summer to go to yard sales. We'd get a newspaper, donuts, and head to one of our neighboring towns to hit as many sales as we could. All who know me can attest that I despise waking up early. However, cheap old things and chocolate donuts are a heady combination that is nearly impossible for me to resist.
My parents were gracious enough to store my purchases and projects in their garage while I was in college! Some girls have a Hope Chest….I had a Hope Garage! Finally, in 2005 (okay, so I guess my parents stored my collection a little longer than just through college), I found the perfect one bedroom duplex. Wood floors, built ins, original hardware…just the place I’d always imagined for all the things I’d collected!
I’ve collected more over the years, and my house is bursting at the seams! I added a chair about a year and half ago that I’d purchased at a Thrift store. It was a cute shade of pale pink, but the paint was chipping. Now, normally, this would be a good thing….I love chipped paint! But underneath the pale pink was a burgundy color that just wouldn’t do. After it sat around my house for about a year, I decided to do something about it.
I painted it a cream color, then upholstered the seat in a large checked fabric. The fabric I used is actually an old sample square from a fabric store. The wood I used to cover the seat of the chair started out covering the whole seat but I had my dad cut it down for me. My parents are both very handy, which really comes in, well, handy.
While not complex, the makeover was still a success. I took an old, chipped, ugly chair and made it new again. I've given something old a new purpose. A new beginning. It made me think of the changes Christ makes in us when we confess our sins and ask for His redemption in our lives.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation;
the old has gone, the new has come!
2 Corinthians 5:17
 |
| The Finished Product |
Sunday, January 15, 2012
#16 Read a book by Jane Austen
I love to read, mostly romance novels. I can read a 300 page book in one really unproductive, yet awesome, Sunday afternoon. Preferably, it’s raining outside and I’m curled up on the couch under my “sheepy” blanket (a well-loved blanket that’s been in my family since I was little and that I took with me when I moved out…it has sheep on it).
On my list was to read one of Jane Austen’s five classic novels. Nineteenth Century romance novels! Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Emma, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion. I’ve been watching film and television adaptations of Austen’s works since I was a teenager, but I’d never read one!
So, I chose to read Pride and Prejudice. It was first published in England in 1813. It is about twenty year old Elizabeth Bennett and her family of sisters. Her mother is obsessed with marrying her daughters off to wealthy young men. Elizabeth meets Fitzwilliam Darcy (swoon), and they, due to pride and prejudice on both their parts, take the long way to Happily Ever After.
Pride and Prejudice is 324 pages long and it took me considerably longer than one Sunday to read! Why did it take so long, you ask? The language! I took a speed reading class in high school with some of my friends (yes, it was voluntary, and yes, we were cool). I often implement my speed reading techniques when reading novels, but not with Jane Austen! Speed reading is all about looking at the words on a page in chunks and letting your brain process them, as opposed to looking at, and reading, each word in a sentence. Well, with Jane, I have to read each word in the sentence! I had to implement some of the reading comprehension strategies that I teach my fourth graders (and I gained empathy for my struggling readers). I have a pretty robust vocabulary, but I’m used to robust words being sprinkled sparingly throughout a page. Jane generously heaps these words into her paragraphs. And she does it beautifully!
At one point in the book, Mr. Darcy proposes marriage (very unexpectedly) to Elizabeth Bennett. Unfortunately, Elizabeth is upset with him for ruining her sister‘s only chance for happiness. Elizabeth’s reply is as follows,
“From the very beginning, from the first moment, I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form that groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”
Mmmmmmhhhhmm….You go, girl! (insert finger snap and head roll). I want to memorize this expert dressing down in the event that a man I detest proposes to me. Such powerful employment of the English language! It makes me grieve for what our society has lost. Our command of language has regressed so drastically over the past two centuries that I fear for the next two. We can’t even be bothered to write, “Oh my gosh” anymore. Instead, we write “OMG” (and by “we“ I mean America in general, but exclude myself as I have yet to resort to using these acronyms). If Jane Austen were to visit our time, she would be horrified. Of course, if Jane had to type a text message on those tiny little phone keyboards she might start to abbreviate, too. If she didn‘t, she would need a very expensive data plan.
Sometimes I wish I could visit Jane’s time. Correction, sometimes I think I should have been born during Jane’s time. My fair complexion and ample curves would have been coveted! Candlelight is very flattering, and the dresses….THE DRESSES! But unless I find a traversable wormhole, I’ll have to settle for being transported by Miss Austen‘s novels. And if I want to consider my self a true “Janeite” (it’s a real term, Google it), I have some more reading to do!
"I cannot fix on the hour, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”
-Mr. Darcy, on when he fell in love with me…I mean, Elizabeth.
On my list was to read one of Jane Austen’s five classic novels. Nineteenth Century romance novels! Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Emma, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion. I’ve been watching film and television adaptations of Austen’s works since I was a teenager, but I’d never read one!
So, I chose to read Pride and Prejudice. It was first published in England in 1813. It is about twenty year old Elizabeth Bennett and her family of sisters. Her mother is obsessed with marrying her daughters off to wealthy young men. Elizabeth meets Fitzwilliam Darcy (swoon), and they, due to pride and prejudice on both their parts, take the long way to Happily Ever After.
Pride and Prejudice is 324 pages long and it took me considerably longer than one Sunday to read! Why did it take so long, you ask? The language! I took a speed reading class in high school with some of my friends (yes, it was voluntary, and yes, we were cool). I often implement my speed reading techniques when reading novels, but not with Jane Austen! Speed reading is all about looking at the words on a page in chunks and letting your brain process them, as opposed to looking at, and reading, each word in a sentence. Well, with Jane, I have to read each word in the sentence! I had to implement some of the reading comprehension strategies that I teach my fourth graders (and I gained empathy for my struggling readers). I have a pretty robust vocabulary, but I’m used to robust words being sprinkled sparingly throughout a page. Jane generously heaps these words into her paragraphs. And she does it beautifully!
At one point in the book, Mr. Darcy proposes marriage (very unexpectedly) to Elizabeth Bennett. Unfortunately, Elizabeth is upset with him for ruining her sister‘s only chance for happiness. Elizabeth’s reply is as follows,
“From the very beginning, from the first moment, I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form that groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”
Mmmmmmhhhhmm….You go, girl! (insert finger snap and head roll). I want to memorize this expert dressing down in the event that a man I detest proposes to me. Such powerful employment of the English language! It makes me grieve for what our society has lost. Our command of language has regressed so drastically over the past two centuries that I fear for the next two. We can’t even be bothered to write, “Oh my gosh” anymore. Instead, we write “OMG” (and by “we“ I mean America in general, but exclude myself as I have yet to resort to using these acronyms). If Jane Austen were to visit our time, she would be horrified. Of course, if Jane had to type a text message on those tiny little phone keyboards she might start to abbreviate, too. If she didn‘t, she would need a very expensive data plan.
Sometimes I wish I could visit Jane’s time. Correction, sometimes I think I should have been born during Jane’s time. My fair complexion and ample curves would have been coveted! Candlelight is very flattering, and the dresses….THE DRESSES! But unless I find a traversable wormhole, I’ll have to settle for being transported by Miss Austen‘s novels. And if I want to consider my self a true “Janeite” (it’s a real term, Google it), I have some more reading to do!
-Mr. Darcy, on when he fell in love with me…I mean, Elizabeth.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
#26 Learn to tie a tie
“If you build it, they will come.”
Do you remember this line from the1989 film, Field of Dreams? Kevin Costner heard a voice whispering these words. If he built a baseball field, famous (dead) baseball players from the past would come play with him.
Well, I applied this to my own life and learned how to tie a men’s neck tie.
“If you tie it, he will come…”
Some might call this a self fulfilling prophecy. Oprah would call it “The Secret”. I consider it living in hope, and moving with faith.
I want a have a husband. The bible tells me that this desire is from the Lord. Psalm 37:4 says, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart”. Would he put this desire in my heart if he didn’t plan on bringing it to fruition? I don’t believe so. Does my faith falter from time to time? Absolutely. I’m human.
So how do I handle these dry spells in my faith? What do I do when my hope begins to waver?
I cry…although this doesn’t usually help.
I remember God’s promises. (The Bible is chock-full of them - check it out)
I have friends who hope for me when I can’t for myself.
And I tie ties.
I found a website called tie-a-tie.net. It’s a website devoted to teaching the masses to tie ties. I found a knot that looked pretty standard and a nice Norwegian (that‘s an educated guess) man walked me through tying a Windsor knot while piano music gently wafted through my computer‘s speakers. Along with the video were sequential illustrations of each step, which were greatly appreciated because I had to tie about 10 knots before I was satisfied and the combination of the Norwegian accent and the piano music got a little irksome. By the tenth time, I was satisfied with the knot.
My Windsor Knot
I didn’t just learn to tie a tie because I think it’s a useful skill to have and I want my future husband to be well-kempt. I did it to demonstrate (to myself) the hope I have that someday, I will have a husband whose tie I can tie.
My friend Trin told me a story she heard about a woman who prayed with expectancy. There was a town somewhere in the south that was experiencing a drought. The situation was getting pretty desperate. The church decided to hold a prayer meeting to pray for rain. When everyone arrived for the prayer meeting, they looked out the window to see an old woman from their congregation walking up the road in her rain slicker, her rain boots, and holding an umbrella. This woman was praying with expectancy….she believed that her prayers would be answered…and she prepared for it. As they held their prayer meeting that day, rain began to fall from the heavens. Everyone ran outside to roll up the car windows they’d left down…everyone but the old woman who’d come trusting that God was going to answer their prayers.
I’m not wearing rain gear, I learned to tie a tie.
“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for
and certain of what we do not see.” Hebrews 11:1
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
#22 Get CPR Recertified
As a teacher and a devoted Auntie, it’s important that I know CPR. When my cousin Jeni told me about her list of 30 Things, getting CPR certified was on it. She was a new Aunt and wanted to be prepared as well. We thought it would be more fun if we took the class together, so I added it to my list.
Being my cousin, Jeni and I have done things together all our lives. We’re only 4 months apart, and grew up in the same town, so we went to school together for 13 years. We spent Saturdays roaming around our family’s ranch letting our imaginations run wild. In high school, we were warm up partners in volleyball, partners on class projects, and we both played the flute in band. We visited each other in college and spent three weeks traveling through Europe together.
Jeni and I working on something
in Accounting Class (Circa 1998-99)
When I refer to Jeni in conversations or introduce her to people, I usually end up having qualify our relationship. “This is my cousin, Jeni….but she’s my friend, too”. I don’t feel like introducing her as my cousin does our relationship justice. It‘s not because our dads are brothers that we choose to be in each other‘s lives…we’re friends. But then simply calling her my friend doesn’t seem sufficient either. Being bonded to each other by genetics and sharing family is significant. We both got our grandma’s bunyons…who else can relate to that but your cousin?
It gets rather tiresome going through this friend-cousin rigamarole everytime I refer to Jeni in a conversation. In a society that has added words like “tanorexia” and “sexting” to the dictionary, one would think we could invent a word that combines “cousin” and “friend”.
“Cousend”, perhaps?
My cousend and I make a fierce team when it comes to academic pursuits. We were lab partners in science class. We’ve dissected an earthworm, a frog, a fetal pig, and even a cat (yep...two in fact, but that‘s another story entirely). Two of our best friends, who we shared a lab table with, after witnessing our scientific prowess, compared us to two world renowned scientists…
Our Muppet Counterparts
Beaker (Jeni) and Professor Bunsen Honeydew (Me). Yes, you would know them from The Muppets. So, obviously, CPR class promised to be much more fun if we did it together.
Jeni researched and found a class that she thought might have the highest attendance of eligible young firemen and paramedics (although this wouldn‘t end up panning out). We met in the conference room of an office building on a Saturday morning. It was fun to be in a class with her again! Most of the people that attended the class were in, or on the fringes of, the medical profession in some capacity and needed the certification for employment. Jeni and I? We were the concerned Aunts.
We were actually dubbed, “The Gigglers” by our instructor. We couldn’t help it. The videos they used to demonstrate resuscitation techniques warranted giggling. Lots of giggling. As did our simulations of emergencies using our CPR Dummies. To prepare for a possible emergency, we were instructed to shake our dummy and say, “Hey? Hey? Are you okay?” If we didn’t get an answer (and we didn‘t), then we were to turn to our partner and say, “Hey you, call 911 and get an AED!” and then commence CPR. Try doing this with Beaker from the Muppets as your partner…if you didn't giggle too, you're made of stone!
Despite the giggles, we both passed with flying colors (although Beaker scored higher than the Professor) and are now CPR certified.
Eating crepes after CPR class!
Being my cousin, Jeni and I have done things together all our lives. We’re only 4 months apart, and grew up in the same town, so we went to school together for 13 years. We spent Saturdays roaming around our family’s ranch letting our imaginations run wild. In high school, we were warm up partners in volleyball, partners on class projects, and we both played the flute in band. We visited each other in college and spent three weeks traveling through Europe together.
in Accounting Class (Circa 1998-99)
When I refer to Jeni in conversations or introduce her to people, I usually end up having qualify our relationship. “This is my cousin, Jeni….but she’s my friend, too”. I don’t feel like introducing her as my cousin does our relationship justice. It‘s not because our dads are brothers that we choose to be in each other‘s lives…we’re friends. But then simply calling her my friend doesn’t seem sufficient either. Being bonded to each other by genetics and sharing family is significant. We both got our grandma’s bunyons…who else can relate to that but your cousin?
It gets rather tiresome going through this friend-cousin rigamarole everytime I refer to Jeni in a conversation. In a society that has added words like “tanorexia” and “sexting” to the dictionary, one would think we could invent a word that combines “cousin” and “friend”.
“Cousend”, perhaps?
My cousend and I make a fierce team when it comes to academic pursuits. We were lab partners in science class. We’ve dissected an earthworm, a frog, a fetal pig, and even a cat (yep...two in fact, but that‘s another story entirely). Two of our best friends, who we shared a lab table with, after witnessing our scientific prowess, compared us to two world renowned scientists…
Beaker (Jeni) and Professor Bunsen Honeydew (Me). Yes, you would know them from The Muppets. So, obviously, CPR class promised to be much more fun if we did it together.
Jeni researched and found a class that she thought might have the highest attendance of eligible young firemen and paramedics (although this wouldn‘t end up panning out). We met in the conference room of an office building on a Saturday morning. It was fun to be in a class with her again! Most of the people that attended the class were in, or on the fringes of, the medical profession in some capacity and needed the certification for employment. Jeni and I? We were the concerned Aunts.
We were actually dubbed, “The Gigglers” by our instructor. We couldn’t help it. The videos they used to demonstrate resuscitation techniques warranted giggling. Lots of giggling. As did our simulations of emergencies using our CPR Dummies. To prepare for a possible emergency, we were instructed to shake our dummy and say, “Hey? Hey? Are you okay?” If we didn’t get an answer (and we didn‘t), then we were to turn to our partner and say, “Hey you, call 911 and get an AED!” and then commence CPR. Try doing this with Beaker from the Muppets as your partner…if you didn't giggle too, you're made of stone!
Despite the giggles, we both passed with flying colors (although Beaker scored higher than the Professor) and are now CPR certified.
Monday, January 9, 2012
#10 Keep a plant alive for 6 months or more
My mom can grow anything. She got a floral arrangement that came in a willow basket once, and she actually got the willow branch basket to sprout and start growing…it went from a basket to a full fledged plant! She passed onto me her eyes, her laugh, and her aversion to running, but she did not pass on her green thumb. She could have spared one, she probably has two on each hand. But she didn’t, and I’ve never been able to grow anything with much success.
So, this year, I decided to try to keep a plant alive for six months or more. I started on this item right away because I figured that if the plant met its maker two months in, I would still have time to start the six months over with a new plant.
I consulted my mom, as well as Google, to find just the right (hardy) plant to grow, but it was my own past that supplied just the right specimen. You see, during my sophomore year of college, one of my roommates bought a house plant. I was doubtful that any of my three roommates or myself would be able to sustain this plant’s life. After all, we were still rookies at taking care of ourselves (I ate Oreos for breakfast, for goodness’ sake). Sure enough, one day, I came home from class to find our plant terribly wilted. Daring to hope, I poured a few glasses of water into its pot and went on with my business. A few hours later, the plant looked as healthy as the day it had arrived. It was a miracle. My roommates and I would witness numerous miracles like this one over the next two years. It was the miraculous nature of this plant that earned it its name. Lazarus. If you’re not familiar, Lazarus was a man in the Bible, a friend of Jesus, who died. He was dead for four days when Jesus came and brought him back to life. A fitting name, and a reminder of the omnipotence of my Lord! He rose a man from the dead, and created a plant that even I could grow. I found out (from the green thumbed wonder) that Lazarus was a Peace Lily. I like to think God thought of me when he designed the Peace Lily.
I knew that if I wanted to keep a plant alive for six months or more, I needed another Lazarus. I went to Lowe’s and bought Lazarus the Second. He is kind enough to remind me when he needs to be watered…and goes from looking quite pitiful, to standing proudly in just a matter of hours. I suppose it’s not ideal to let your plants get near the brink of death before watering them, but it works for Lazarus and I. He’s held on for 11 months now, and while I‘d love to say he‘s thriving, I‘m going to have to settle for saying he‘s surviving!
"Lazarus The Second"
My dear friend, Trin, has been gradually and subtly trying to usher me into a new phase of plant ownership. When I was going through a difficult transition from teaching kindergarten to teaching fourth grade this fall, I came home one day to find a beautiful pink geranium on my front stoop. It was from Trin. She wanted me to have something beautiful to usher me out of my house in the morning and welcome me home in the afternoon. I was moved by her thoughtfulness….and slightly worried for the fate of the geranium.
Trin assured me that she would check in on “Gerry”, as we dubbed the pink flowered shrub, and told me that geraniums were difficult to kill. I assured her that if anyone could find a way to lead it to its demise, it was me. But together, we’ve kept Gerry alive (through some close calls) and she’s still blooming. And for my 31st birthday, Trin brought me two more potted plants to adorn my front porch!
It’s now time to step up my game…after all, I made this list so that I could thrive instead of just survive. Don't I owe the same to my rooted friends?
So, this year, I decided to try to keep a plant alive for six months or more. I started on this item right away because I figured that if the plant met its maker two months in, I would still have time to start the six months over with a new plant.
I consulted my mom, as well as Google, to find just the right (hardy) plant to grow, but it was my own past that supplied just the right specimen. You see, during my sophomore year of college, one of my roommates bought a house plant. I was doubtful that any of my three roommates or myself would be able to sustain this plant’s life. After all, we were still rookies at taking care of ourselves (I ate Oreos for breakfast, for goodness’ sake). Sure enough, one day, I came home from class to find our plant terribly wilted. Daring to hope, I poured a few glasses of water into its pot and went on with my business. A few hours later, the plant looked as healthy as the day it had arrived. It was a miracle. My roommates and I would witness numerous miracles like this one over the next two years. It was the miraculous nature of this plant that earned it its name. Lazarus. If you’re not familiar, Lazarus was a man in the Bible, a friend of Jesus, who died. He was dead for four days when Jesus came and brought him back to life. A fitting name, and a reminder of the omnipotence of my Lord! He rose a man from the dead, and created a plant that even I could grow. I found out (from the green thumbed wonder) that Lazarus was a Peace Lily. I like to think God thought of me when he designed the Peace Lily.
I knew that if I wanted to keep a plant alive for six months or more, I needed another Lazarus. I went to Lowe’s and bought Lazarus the Second. He is kind enough to remind me when he needs to be watered…and goes from looking quite pitiful, to standing proudly in just a matter of hours. I suppose it’s not ideal to let your plants get near the brink of death before watering them, but it works for Lazarus and I. He’s held on for 11 months now, and while I‘d love to say he‘s thriving, I‘m going to have to settle for saying he‘s surviving!
My dear friend, Trin, has been gradually and subtly trying to usher me into a new phase of plant ownership. When I was going through a difficult transition from teaching kindergarten to teaching fourth grade this fall, I came home one day to find a beautiful pink geranium on my front stoop. It was from Trin. She wanted me to have something beautiful to usher me out of my house in the morning and welcome me home in the afternoon. I was moved by her thoughtfulness….and slightly worried for the fate of the geranium.
Trin assured me that she would check in on “Gerry”, as we dubbed the pink flowered shrub, and told me that geraniums were difficult to kill. I assured her that if anyone could find a way to lead it to its demise, it was me. But together, we’ve kept Gerry alive (through some close calls) and she’s still blooming. And for my 31st birthday, Trin brought me two more potted plants to adorn my front porch!
It’s now time to step up my game…after all, I made this list so that I could thrive instead of just survive. Don't I owe the same to my rooted friends?
Sunday, January 8, 2012
The Beginning
My name is Sarah.
I turned 31 today.
And I’m single.
I’ve spent many an hour asking God, “Why? Why aren’t I married yet? Why, when (seemingly) all of my friends have started their lives, am I left single?” The way I saw it, my life would start when I got married and started a family of my own. I was simply biding my time, waiting for my life to begin. God's answer to my questions came about a year ago, in two scriptures. The first was Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.” The frying pan that hit me over the head was the beginning….for I KNOW THE PLANS I HAVE FOR YOU….He has a plan, He knows it, and He loves me. That’s really all I need to know.
The second verse comes from Ecclesiastes 3:1, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.” (Yes, it was written in the Bible long before The Byrds put it to music). God has me in this season of my life for a reason. I just need to make the most of it.
Around the time God was revealing this to me, my cousin, also approaching 30, told me that she made a list of 30 things she wanted to do before she turned 30. Well, my birthday was looming a little closer than hers, so I decided to make my own list: Thirty things to do while I’m thirty. I would have a year to complete them. It’s a Bucket List of sorts, but they had to be things that were reasonably attainable in a year and with my resources. A gondola ride in Venice, a Christmas Market in Germany, and the Sound of Music tour of Salzburg would have to wait. But there were plenty of things I could experience, learn, or accomplish, in a year. Thirty small adventures. Here’s what I came up with:
1. Grow my fingernails and get a French manicure
2. Find out how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop
3. Rock climb
4. Make pasta from scratch
5. Try kayaking/paddle boating/canoeing
6. See a movie at a Drive In
7. Go fishing
8. Take a trip
9. Watch 5 classic movies I haven’t seen
10. Keep a plant alive for 6 months or more
11. Make something I can wear
12. Volunteer at a homeless shelter/soup kitchen
13. Eat breakfast at Tiffany’s (the jewelry store)
14. Milk a cow
15. Go a week without watching TV
16. Read a book by Jane Austen
17. Go to a museum I’ve never been to
18. Buy a goat for a family in a third world country
19. Buy the perfect pair of boots
20. Try online dating
21. Makeover a piece of furniture
22. Get CPR recertified
23. Play in puddles
24. Sleep outside during a meteor shower
25. Cut down my own Christmas tree
26. Learn how to tie a tie
27. See a lighthouse
28. Go to a water park
29. Take a cooking class
30. Take my neighbors a gift and meet them
And so, my small adventures began. I’m still praying (earnestly) for a husband and a family of my own, but I’m not wasting any more time.
My name is Sarah.
I turned 31 today.
I’m still single.
But I’m not just killing time any more.
I turned 31 today.
And I’m single.
I’ve spent many an hour asking God, “Why? Why aren’t I married yet? Why, when (seemingly) all of my friends have started their lives, am I left single?” The way I saw it, my life would start when I got married and started a family of my own. I was simply biding my time, waiting for my life to begin. God's answer to my questions came about a year ago, in two scriptures. The first was Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.” The frying pan that hit me over the head was the beginning….for I KNOW THE PLANS I HAVE FOR YOU….He has a plan, He knows it, and He loves me. That’s really all I need to know.
The second verse comes from Ecclesiastes 3:1, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.” (Yes, it was written in the Bible long before The Byrds put it to music). God has me in this season of my life for a reason. I just need to make the most of it.
Around the time God was revealing this to me, my cousin, also approaching 30, told me that she made a list of 30 things she wanted to do before she turned 30. Well, my birthday was looming a little closer than hers, so I decided to make my own list: Thirty things to do while I’m thirty. I would have a year to complete them. It’s a Bucket List of sorts, but they had to be things that were reasonably attainable in a year and with my resources. A gondola ride in Venice, a Christmas Market in Germany, and the Sound of Music tour of Salzburg would have to wait. But there were plenty of things I could experience, learn, or accomplish, in a year. Thirty small adventures. Here’s what I came up with:
1. Grow my fingernails and get a French manicure
2. Find out how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop
3. Rock climb
4. Make pasta from scratch
5. Try kayaking/paddle boating/canoeing
6. See a movie at a Drive In
7. Go fishing
8. Take a trip
9. Watch 5 classic movies I haven’t seen
10. Keep a plant alive for 6 months or more
11. Make something I can wear
12. Volunteer at a homeless shelter/soup kitchen
13. Eat breakfast at Tiffany’s (the jewelry store)
14. Milk a cow
15. Go a week without watching TV
16. Read a book by Jane Austen
17. Go to a museum I’ve never been to
18. Buy a goat for a family in a third world country
19. Buy the perfect pair of boots
20. Try online dating
21. Makeover a piece of furniture
22. Get CPR recertified
23. Play in puddles
24. Sleep outside during a meteor shower
25. Cut down my own Christmas tree
26. Learn how to tie a tie
27. See a lighthouse
28. Go to a water park
29. Take a cooking class
30. Take my neighbors a gift and meet them
And so, my small adventures began. I’m still praying (earnestly) for a husband and a family of my own, but I’m not wasting any more time.
My name is Sarah.
I turned 31 today.
I’m still single.
But I’m not just killing time any more.
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