OK, a couple things before I start: My husband is so cute and smart. I loved that post about Google Maps. Also, I love Christmas. I was feeling pretty stressed and insecure when I wrote that last post of mine, but there's no changing the fact that I love Christmas desperately.
Glad that's said. Now, for the real post...
Which is related to loving Christmas. I got an email today with some Scripture in it. I don't read the Bible much, honestly. I don't know if it's the language or the confusing parts or the layers upon layers of context that escape me or the fact that it's not chronological which is kind of annoying, but I don't. But there is one story that I love and never get tired of, and it hits me square in the gut every time - the Christmas story.
My favorite thing about it is what it tells us about God. He sees that there is a distance between him and people, a disconnect. People are struggling with all sorts of problems, both caused by their own selfishness and also caused by circumstances out of their control. Bottom line: The world is broken. So he decides to leave heaven or the spiritual realm or wherever it is that God lives, and come here to earth to intervene and bring hope and help and a life-giving way of life, and to let people know once and for all that they are OK with him.
So the first thing that is so mind-blowing is that God doesn't stay out there somewhere in the cosmos - he comes here. Emmanuel - "God with us."
Then, he comes in the most underwhelming way possible. He chooses to come as a helpless, fussy baby, born to a poor woman who isn't even married yet, who's on the road, who can't even find a warm bed. She and her fiance end up in a barn, which smells like animal excrement and is cold and dirty. Their families and friends are far away; they're all alone. There are no midwives or doctors around to help them. She gives birth in this place, which is a messy, dangerous, painful process, and there is no bath to wash her or the child, and there is no cushioned cradle in which to lay him or fresh baby clothes to dress him in. So they find some scraps to wrap him in, and then she places him in the feed trough.
Seriously!
I've got to tell you, I wrestle with this whole Christianity thing all the time. The church sometimes drives me nuts. The Christian culture and assumptions often make me feel uncomfortable. Etc. But Jesus breaks my heart in half.
People were expecting a dashing warrior king to come and save them from the oppressive Roman empire with a powerful sword. The wise men, searching for Jesus, went straight to the reigning Jewish king, assuming that's where the Messiah would be. Nope. He's in a stinky, dark cave with some cows and donkeys. And who does God announce this incredible news to - that he's here, among us? Shepherds. Working men with little status or money. And who does he reveal his guiding star to? Wealthy foreign astrologists. It's so bizarre, so upside-down, but it somehow makes sense.
God's actions indicate that he came for the broken, the lonely - the average, everyday person just trying to get by, and he came for the seekers - those who know there is more to find and it's worth searching for. God's choices suggest that he likes surprises, he's impossibly humble, and his priorities are backwards - in a good way. He doesn't care about appearances, and he sometimes chooses to work through difficult situations so that he will be enough. And the nativity shows that he trusts us, people, to participate in the story he's writing.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
TRUE DAT, DOUBLE TRUE
I've been bored at work this week. Not bored, as in I have nothing to do, but bored as in I would rather be anywhere else. Christmas-break-itis? Probably.
In the wake of my boredom, I started playing around with customized Google Maps. Samberg was right, Google Maps are the best. I've come up with my first cut at a hiking loop that I really enjoy up in the southwest Smokey Mountains. The high point of the trip is sitting on top of Gregory Bald and being able to see for miles around. The loop is about ~20 miles and can easily be done in two nights. Google Maps allowed me to put custom markers on the map (with details on each), but unfortunately, I wasn't able to trace the exact trail. You probably can and I just haven't figured it out. So, for your enjoyment:
In the wake of my boredom, I started playing around with customized Google Maps. Samberg was right, Google Maps are the best. I've come up with my first cut at a hiking loop that I really enjoy up in the southwest Smokey Mountains. The high point of the trip is sitting on top of Gregory Bald and being able to see for miles around. The loop is about ~20 miles and can easily be done in two nights. Google Maps allowed me to put custom markers on the map (with details on each), but unfortunately, I wasn't able to trace the exact trail. You probably can and I just haven't figured it out. So, for your enjoyment:
Friday, December 14, 2007
I BLAME MARTHA. AND MYSELF.
I am having a problem with something. This is a problem I experience all throughout the year, but Christmastime seems to exaggerate it. I'm not sure how to sum it up. It's something like: Secretly-on-the-inside-I-want-to-be-Martha-Stewart-but-I'm-not-very-
good-at-it-and-I-think-it-would-be-fun-if-I-was-but-instead-I'm-
frustrated-because-I'm-not.
I expressed this problem out loud to a friend today, whom I love dearly and whose honesty I treasure, but her response was that I was making her skin crawl. I tried taking the issue to another brutally honest friend, who said I was being whiny and even mimicked me mockingly. So. I am not up for negative responses at the moment. If you can't relate or think I'm ridiculous, etc., please keep that opinion to yourself.
To expand on my problem, I'll offer some examples. In my head, I think the idea of throwing parties, having people over for dinner, and the like, sounds fun and hospitable and relationship-building. At Christmas, add to that things like sending Christmas cards, putting up extra decorations inside and out, attending festive activities, baking cookies and sharing them with others, buying thoughtful gifts, etc. All pleasant, pretty, interpersonal.
But then my selfish, obsessive nature takes over and turns it all into two things: 1) a way to assert how together and stylish and well-rounded and successful I am, and 2) a self-defeating discovery that I am not together and I do not have enough fashion sense or money to be all that stylish and I fail at many things all the time -- especially those things I put pressure on myself to do because they seem so good and feminine and fun -- and that other people, who don't seem to be trying at all and don't seem to wrestle with these demons, are really good at succeeding in these areas.
I want to enjoy all that the Christmas season has to offer. I want to make the most of every holiday. I want to have a comfortable, attractive home and welcome people into it. I want to keep loved ones updated on our life with the hope that they will keep me updated on theirs. I don't want to be smug or competitive or self-centered or jealous or discontent or insincere...
Philip always tells me I think too hard about things. That may be true. But I don't know how to turn my mind off. My friend says I should just not be competitive. Just stop it. Stop comparing. Stop piling expectations on myself and everyone and everything around me. Just don't send out a Christmas letter because people who read it are bound to make fun of it and be annoyed by it and poke holes in it, no matter how good my intentions may have been, and they probably weren't that pure anyway, and it'll be one less thing to think about during a crazy time of year. Well, your letter is on the way this year, people, for better or for worse.
I don't know what to do about these feelings, and throwing it out into cyberspace seemed a little safer than talking to a human being about it, as I was quickly invalidated when I tried to do that. (And my obsessive, over-analytical mind thinks, "Was that what I needed? A kick in the pants? Because maybe that was a message from God to just Get Over Myself. But I still feel bad, and actually a little worse than before I said anything. And all I want is to feel some peace.")
The end.
P.S. I really don't have anything against Martha Stewart. I think she genuinely enjoys renovating old houses and coming up with creative interior-design ideas and crafts and gardening and so forth. She just found a way to make a profit off of what she already loves doing, so good for her. She probably didn't set out to make me and whoever else feel insecure. It's OK, Martha, I'm not mad.
good-at-it-and-I-think-it-would-be-fun-if-I-was-but-instead-I'm-
frustrated-because-I'm-not.
I expressed this problem out loud to a friend today, whom I love dearly and whose honesty I treasure, but her response was that I was making her skin crawl. I tried taking the issue to another brutally honest friend, who said I was being whiny and even mimicked me mockingly. So. I am not up for negative responses at the moment. If you can't relate or think I'm ridiculous, etc., please keep that opinion to yourself.
To expand on my problem, I'll offer some examples. In my head, I think the idea of throwing parties, having people over for dinner, and the like, sounds fun and hospitable and relationship-building. At Christmas, add to that things like sending Christmas cards, putting up extra decorations inside and out, attending festive activities, baking cookies and sharing them with others, buying thoughtful gifts, etc. All pleasant, pretty, interpersonal.
But then my selfish, obsessive nature takes over and turns it all into two things: 1) a way to assert how together and stylish and well-rounded and successful I am, and 2) a self-defeating discovery that I am not together and I do not have enough fashion sense or money to be all that stylish and I fail at many things all the time -- especially those things I put pressure on myself to do because they seem so good and feminine and fun -- and that other people, who don't seem to be trying at all and don't seem to wrestle with these demons, are really good at succeeding in these areas.
I want to enjoy all that the Christmas season has to offer. I want to make the most of every holiday. I want to have a comfortable, attractive home and welcome people into it. I want to keep loved ones updated on our life with the hope that they will keep me updated on theirs. I don't want to be smug or competitive or self-centered or jealous or discontent or insincere...
Philip always tells me I think too hard about things. That may be true. But I don't know how to turn my mind off. My friend says I should just not be competitive. Just stop it. Stop comparing. Stop piling expectations on myself and everyone and everything around me. Just don't send out a Christmas letter because people who read it are bound to make fun of it and be annoyed by it and poke holes in it, no matter how good my intentions may have been, and they probably weren't that pure anyway, and it'll be one less thing to think about during a crazy time of year. Well, your letter is on the way this year, people, for better or for worse.
I don't know what to do about these feelings, and throwing it out into cyberspace seemed a little safer than talking to a human being about it, as I was quickly invalidated when I tried to do that. (And my obsessive, over-analytical mind thinks, "Was that what I needed? A kick in the pants? Because maybe that was a message from God to just Get Over Myself. But I still feel bad, and actually a little worse than before I said anything. And all I want is to feel some peace.")
The end.
P.S. I really don't have anything against Martha Stewart. I think she genuinely enjoys renovating old houses and coming up with creative interior-design ideas and crafts and gardening and so forth. She just found a way to make a profit off of what she already loves doing, so good for her. She probably didn't set out to make me and whoever else feel insecure. It's OK, Martha, I'm not mad.
Monday, December 10, 2007
THE KITCHEN AND ME
Thanks to my sister-in-law’s prompting, I actually baked this weekend. We made zucchini bread, and I made peanut-butter-kiss cookies and peppermint bark (I did everything but smash the peppermints with a hammer, which I enlisted Philip's help with). I wanted to take a picture and frame it when I was done, because not only is it rare to find me voluntarily in the kitchen, but it’s also a major deal when I actually succeed in what I set out to do with cooking utensils in hand.
Now, you should know that I also destroyed a perfectly promising batch of sugar cookies by mistakenly adding too much salt and neglecting to add enough sugar. So maybe in my subconscious I was trying to make salt cookies. Don’t laugh; that could be the next big thing.
At any rate, my relationship with the stove is love-hate, mostly hate. I catch things on fire, I explode glass dishes, I burn the bottom and smush the top, etc. Cooking is supposedly straightforward — you just follow the directions — yet I constantly encounter problems. Steps that are too vague — “add salt to taste” — huh? Tools that I can’t control, like the mixer, which sends sugary chunks all over the room. Tools I don't have, like a blender; hence the hammer for the peppermints. Basic common sense that I lack, like, don’t put metal in the microwave or paper in the oven.
But something compels me to keep trying, and I’m not sure if it’s my admirable inner drive to conquer the dragon against all odds, or if it’s just leftover domestic guilt that I’m a woman and therefore I should be able to do this dammit.
It does feel really good though when I actually create something not only edible, but yummy too. Which after a little bit of trial and error yesterday, I did. So yay!
Now, you should know that I also destroyed a perfectly promising batch of sugar cookies by mistakenly adding too much salt and neglecting to add enough sugar. So maybe in my subconscious I was trying to make salt cookies. Don’t laugh; that could be the next big thing.
At any rate, my relationship with the stove is love-hate, mostly hate. I catch things on fire, I explode glass dishes, I burn the bottom and smush the top, etc. Cooking is supposedly straightforward — you just follow the directions — yet I constantly encounter problems. Steps that are too vague — “add salt to taste” — huh? Tools that I can’t control, like the mixer, which sends sugary chunks all over the room. Tools I don't have, like a blender; hence the hammer for the peppermints. Basic common sense that I lack, like, don’t put metal in the microwave or paper in the oven.
But something compels me to keep trying, and I’m not sure if it’s my admirable inner drive to conquer the dragon against all odds, or if it’s just leftover domestic guilt that I’m a woman and therefore I should be able to do this dammit.
It does feel really good though when I actually create something not only edible, but yummy too. Which after a little bit of trial and error yesterday, I did. So yay!
Monday, November 12, 2007
A LITTLE PAINTING ADVICE FROM THE FRONT LINES
So we're embarking on painting our interior walls, and I guess we weren't prepared for the endurance challenge it's turning out to be. Everyone always talks about painting as an easy, relatively cheap way to transform a room, but we're finding painting to be neither easy nor cheap. We're both newbies, so we're trying to give ourselves some grace and keep our spirits up as we seem to learn everything the hard way. We're finally starting to get the hang of this gig, so I thought I'd pass along a few practical tips we've picked up. You probably know all of this, but somehow we didn't, so maybe this will be beneficial to someone out there who knows as little about painting as we did and could use a few pointers.
1. The ColorSmart tool on Behr's website is kind of fun to play around with but is marginally useful, and the "Paint Your Place" option for viewing selected colors using your own digital photos doesn't work at all. Don't waste your $5 on it (like we did). However, if you happen to stop into Home Depot, do pick up Behr's brochure on basic painting how-tos. It walks you through the basics and provides a list of supplies you'll need. This was helpful.
2. Paint on a chip looks different from paint in a can looks different from wet paint on a wall looks different from dry paint on a wall. In order to get a good feel for how a certain color will look in a room, you have to paint at least a 2-foot by 2-foot square on the wall, let it dry, and look at it in different lights and times of day.
3. This can get really expensive if you're buying whole quart cans, which are generally the smallest size you can buy and start at around $12 each. But there is a solution! Lowes sells sample sizes in the store for $4 each! Hooray!
4. Lowes paint isn't very good quality. We heard this and then proved it with a worthless 2-gallon bucket of primer that worked like crap. Since then, we've been buying all our primer, wall paint, and trim paint at a little mom-and-pop paint shop called All Florida Paint at Mills and Orange. The service there is awesome. There aren't ever any lines, the employees give good advice and even carry your purchases out to your car for you (they maybe only do this for girls), and the products are quality. They know me in there now. We're paying a bit more for these perks, but it's worth it, and they can even match Lowes' hues like nobody's business.
5. Taping off the trim is handy, but paint still tends to leak under the tape. You can do two things to help minimize this. The first is to use the good tape. Don't be cheap and buy the Shurtape brand or worse, regular old masking tape. Get Scotch brand blue painting tape, and even go a step further and get the "delicate surfaces" kind. Again, you'll pay a bit more, but you'll thank yourself when you're not having to go back and touch up all your trim. (More tape tips here.) The second is to use as little paint around the edges as possible. If you glop it on real thick, it's more likely to render your tape useless. Try to go really light with it. Using a smaller brush helps. It's also a good idea to re-tape in between coats, if you have the patience.
6. Paint on a finished wood surface won't stick and will peel off and chip badly. In order to paint a varnished surface effectively, you must first remove said varnish. Apparently the previous owners of our house didn't realize this. Now we are learning all about paint stripper and its accompanying safety gear.
7. Paint stripper is scary stuff indeed, but it is your friend. Wear chemical-resistant gloves, closed-toed shoes, long sleeves, pants, and a protective mask over your nose and mouth, and ventilate the area well. The label says this, and it's good advice. While this may sound intimidating, it takes that junk right off - varnish and all.
Friday, October 12, 2007
FAQs
Here are some answers to FAQs I've been hearing lately.
Q: How was your vacation?
A: It was great! Our adventure started in Southern California at the wedding of Philip's best friend Ben. The wedding, an outdoor affair, was lovely, and afterward, on the way from our hotel to the airport, we drove the PCH, stopping along the way to see some dramatic seaside cliffs. Beautiful! I also got to see my good friend Marcia while we were out there, which was a blast.
Then we spent five days at Glacier National Park in Montana. I cried when it was time to leave; I could easily have stayed another five days. The park is breathtaking, with vivid wildflowers, majestic mountains, interesting wildlife, and glassy lakes, but what I remember the most was the absolute silence out there. While hiking on the trails, we couldn't even hear a bird chirping; all was perfectly quiet. It's a bit uncomfortable at first to be honest, but once I got used to it, I relished it. We hiked hard, doing a three-mile hike, a six-mile one, and a 12-mile one. I was sore the whole time, but in a good way. I really looked the part of a hardcore outdoorswoman, thanks to my husband's help. Who would have ever believed that Erika Larson would one day be the proud owner of clunky hiking boots?
We saw a lot of the park in the short time we were there, though there's tons more to see on a return visit someday. We visited the two historic lodges located within the borders of the park, Lake McDonald Lodge and the Many Glacier Hotel, as well as the first visitor accommodations built just outside the park's west entrance, Belton Chalet. We also spent a day in the less-traveled northwest area of the park, the North Fork, where the Polebridge Mercantile (amazing baked goods) and the Northern Lights Saloon (bizarre and super-awesome) are located. The wee town of Polebridge was a trip. All their electricity comes from generators, and the evening we patronized the saloon, it was pizza night. That was the only thing on the menu. The baker from the Merc next door had hand-made the pizza dough. It was some of the best pizza I've ever had!
A couple other highlights were driving the Going-to-the-Sun Road (the road that bisects that park and provides access to the park's interior, including sub-Alpine regions) and "white-water" rafting. I put "white-water" in quotation marks because I spent most of the trip down the river with my legs dangling lazily off the side of the raft. By the end of the summer, when the winter snowmelts are basically over, the rafting trip becomes more scenic than wild. We stayed in a cabin at Silverwolf Chalets, which was cozy, adorable, and adults-only! (We highly recommend Becky Lomax's Moon Handbook about Glacier - we carried it with us the whole time, and it's how we planned our entire itinerary.)
At the end of the trip, we drove to Sandpoint, Idaho, to visit Philip's uncle Tim and aunt Toni. They were great hosts, taking us out on their ATVs and on a gondola up Schweitzer Mountain.
Q: How was your trip to Hawaii?
A: Again, it was great! I went on my first-ever press trip a couple weeks ago, and it went above and beyond my expectations. I fell in love with the group of writers, editors, and publicists with whom I spent the week. The whole bunch was fun, considerate, inquisitive, positive, and adventurous. Hilton hosted us and totally spoiled us with in-room goodies, turndown service, and incredible meals. I got to do some really cool things, like zip-lining in a Kauai rainforest, swimming under a waterfall on the Big Island, participating in a dolphin encounter, taking a surf lesson in Waikiki (I got up on my first try!), and enjoying some authentic Hawaiian entertainment. There was some work involved (hearing publicity pitches and interviewing people), but honestly, it was mostly just a ton of fun. I missed my husband a lot, but he kept busy attending an important management meeting in Alabama and going to a Tigers/Sox game with my dad and to Mike Kotsis' bachelor party in Chicago.
Q: How's the house? Are you getting settled?
A: The house is a blessing and I adore it, but we haven't gotten settled really at all. With all this crazy travel, we haven't had any time. Philip just got the yard under control last weekend - what a beast (the yard, not Philip). We also shopped for and put an order in for new living-room furniture! This is a major accomplishment for the Mr. and Mrs. Philip Huenekes, who are extremely cautious and slow-moving when it comes to large purchases. Now that we've got our sectional sofa all picked out, we can move on to painting the walls, and then finally, unpacking all the boxes.
I'm very excited about the remainder of 2007. I don't have any work trips or freelance projects on the calendar for the rest of the year (it's a miracle!), so I'll be able to focus on the house and the holidays. I'm hugely relieved. Check out pics from our vacation on Flickr; I'll get the Hawaii photos up soon.
Q: How was your vacation?
A: It was great! Our adventure started in Southern California at the wedding of Philip's best friend Ben. The wedding, an outdoor affair, was lovely, and afterward, on the way from our hotel to the airport, we drove the PCH, stopping along the way to see some dramatic seaside cliffs. Beautiful! I also got to see my good friend Marcia while we were out there, which was a blast.
Then we spent five days at Glacier National Park in Montana. I cried when it was time to leave; I could easily have stayed another five days. The park is breathtaking, with vivid wildflowers, majestic mountains, interesting wildlife, and glassy lakes, but what I remember the most was the absolute silence out there. While hiking on the trails, we couldn't even hear a bird chirping; all was perfectly quiet. It's a bit uncomfortable at first to be honest, but once I got used to it, I relished it. We hiked hard, doing a three-mile hike, a six-mile one, and a 12-mile one. I was sore the whole time, but in a good way. I really looked the part of a hardcore outdoorswoman, thanks to my husband's help. Who would have ever believed that Erika Larson would one day be the proud owner of clunky hiking boots?
We saw a lot of the park in the short time we were there, though there's tons more to see on a return visit someday. We visited the two historic lodges located within the borders of the park, Lake McDonald Lodge and the Many Glacier Hotel, as well as the first visitor accommodations built just outside the park's west entrance, Belton Chalet. We also spent a day in the less-traveled northwest area of the park, the North Fork, where the Polebridge Mercantile (amazing baked goods) and the Northern Lights Saloon (bizarre and super-awesome) are located. The wee town of Polebridge was a trip. All their electricity comes from generators, and the evening we patronized the saloon, it was pizza night. That was the only thing on the menu. The baker from the Merc next door had hand-made the pizza dough. It was some of the best pizza I've ever had!
A couple other highlights were driving the Going-to-the-Sun Road (the road that bisects that park and provides access to the park's interior, including sub-Alpine regions) and "white-water" rafting. I put "white-water" in quotation marks because I spent most of the trip down the river with my legs dangling lazily off the side of the raft. By the end of the summer, when the winter snowmelts are basically over, the rafting trip becomes more scenic than wild. We stayed in a cabin at Silverwolf Chalets, which was cozy, adorable, and adults-only! (We highly recommend Becky Lomax's Moon Handbook about Glacier - we carried it with us the whole time, and it's how we planned our entire itinerary.)
At the end of the trip, we drove to Sandpoint, Idaho, to visit Philip's uncle Tim and aunt Toni. They were great hosts, taking us out on their ATVs and on a gondola up Schweitzer Mountain.
Q: How was your trip to Hawaii?
A: Again, it was great! I went on my first-ever press trip a couple weeks ago, and it went above and beyond my expectations. I fell in love with the group of writers, editors, and publicists with whom I spent the week. The whole bunch was fun, considerate, inquisitive, positive, and adventurous. Hilton hosted us and totally spoiled us with in-room goodies, turndown service, and incredible meals. I got to do some really cool things, like zip-lining in a Kauai rainforest, swimming under a waterfall on the Big Island, participating in a dolphin encounter, taking a surf lesson in Waikiki (I got up on my first try!), and enjoying some authentic Hawaiian entertainment. There was some work involved (hearing publicity pitches and interviewing people), but honestly, it was mostly just a ton of fun. I missed my husband a lot, but he kept busy attending an important management meeting in Alabama and going to a Tigers/Sox game with my dad and to Mike Kotsis' bachelor party in Chicago.
Q: How's the house? Are you getting settled?
A: The house is a blessing and I adore it, but we haven't gotten settled really at all. With all this crazy travel, we haven't had any time. Philip just got the yard under control last weekend - what a beast (the yard, not Philip). We also shopped for and put an order in for new living-room furniture! This is a major accomplishment for the Mr. and Mrs. Philip Huenekes, who are extremely cautious and slow-moving when it comes to large purchases. Now that we've got our sectional sofa all picked out, we can move on to painting the walls, and then finally, unpacking all the boxes.
I'm very excited about the remainder of 2007. I don't have any work trips or freelance projects on the calendar for the rest of the year (it's a miracle!), so I'll be able to focus on the house and the holidays. I'm hugely relieved. Check out pics from our vacation on Flickr; I'll get the Hawaii photos up soon.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
HOUSE/JOB/TRAVEL/LIFE
This blog has been sorely neglected over the last few months, and a lot has happened, so I wanted to fill you in quickly on our life as of late.
The biggest news is that we bought our first house! We love, love, love our house and are very excited to be living there. The process of buying it was wrought with a lot of anxiety and conflict over values, finances, the future, lifestyle, timing, background, etc. It’s amazing how many sensitive areas this decision touched. But after about a year of me tracking listings on Realtor.com and six months of house hunting, during which we toured probably 30 properties, we bought a house that we had walked through on our very first day of house shopping.
I honestly feel like God orchestrated this whole ordeal. After falling in love with the house we eventually would buy, we decided it was too expensive, but continued to track it. No other house grabbed our attention like this one, but it was just too much money, despite the fact that the asking price kept falling. Eventually it disappeared off of MLS listings, so we had our real estate agent inquire about it. The owners were preparing to refinance, pull the cash out and look for a renter since they had to move because of a job change. We said, “Wait! Let us make an offer.” We ended up buying the house for $80,000 less than the original asking price and even $20,000 less than what the previous owners paid in 2004. Holding out proved wise, and it was worth the wait!
The other major change in my life is that I’m no longer copy editing. In May, I was hired as the associate editor of Destination Weddings & Honeymoons magazine, which has really been a dream come true. While the job has its drawbacks (like any job), I am getting to write and travel, which are two of my biggest passions.
Needless to say, adjusting to a new job and a new house at the same time has been sucking up a lot of time and energy. In addition to that, our travel schedule has recently ballooned out of control. Philip is on his way to California for his best friend Ben’s wedding, and I’ll be joining him on Friday. From there, we’re heading to Glacier National Park in Montana for some hiking, white-water rafting and scenic driving! We’re also stopping in Idaho for a couple days on this trip to visit Philip’s aunt and uncle.
Last weekend I had the pleasure of reuniting with some girlfriends from college in Bloomington, Illinois (during which I met my best friend Sarah’s new baby Logan!), and I also had some really nice family time in Rockford. In September, Philip’s headed to Tucson for work, while I’m off to Hawaii (!) for a press trip. In October, we’re going back to Detroit for our friends Mike and Jill’s wedding.
Between all that, I’d love to get our house more settled—paint some walls, get a few new pieces of furniture, decorate, etc.
After our Glacier trip, I’ll try to get pics up on Flickr. And stay tuned for housewarming party information…
The biggest news is that we bought our first house! We love, love, love our house and are very excited to be living there. The process of buying it was wrought with a lot of anxiety and conflict over values, finances, the future, lifestyle, timing, background, etc. It’s amazing how many sensitive areas this decision touched. But after about a year of me tracking listings on Realtor.com and six months of house hunting, during which we toured probably 30 properties, we bought a house that we had walked through on our very first day of house shopping.
I honestly feel like God orchestrated this whole ordeal. After falling in love with the house we eventually would buy, we decided it was too expensive, but continued to track it. No other house grabbed our attention like this one, but it was just too much money, despite the fact that the asking price kept falling. Eventually it disappeared off of MLS listings, so we had our real estate agent inquire about it. The owners were preparing to refinance, pull the cash out and look for a renter since they had to move because of a job change. We said, “Wait! Let us make an offer.” We ended up buying the house for $80,000 less than the original asking price and even $20,000 less than what the previous owners paid in 2004. Holding out proved wise, and it was worth the wait!
The other major change in my life is that I’m no longer copy editing. In May, I was hired as the associate editor of Destination Weddings & Honeymoons magazine, which has really been a dream come true. While the job has its drawbacks (like any job), I am getting to write and travel, which are two of my biggest passions.
Needless to say, adjusting to a new job and a new house at the same time has been sucking up a lot of time and energy. In addition to that, our travel schedule has recently ballooned out of control. Philip is on his way to California for his best friend Ben’s wedding, and I’ll be joining him on Friday. From there, we’re heading to Glacier National Park in Montana for some hiking, white-water rafting and scenic driving! We’re also stopping in Idaho for a couple days on this trip to visit Philip’s aunt and uncle.
Last weekend I had the pleasure of reuniting with some girlfriends from college in Bloomington, Illinois (during which I met my best friend Sarah’s new baby Logan!), and I also had some really nice family time in Rockford. In September, Philip’s headed to Tucson for work, while I’m off to Hawaii (!) for a press trip. In October, we’re going back to Detroit for our friends Mike and Jill’s wedding.
Between all that, I’d love to get our house more settled—paint some walls, get a few new pieces of furniture, decorate, etc.
After our Glacier trip, I’ll try to get pics up on Flickr. And stay tuned for housewarming party information…
Friday, May 11, 2007
THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY
THE GOOD: Habana Grill
If you are a central Floridian, I highly recommend this restaurant! Philip and I have been here several times, and it is top-notch - great Cuban food, authentic atmosphere, yummy sangria and mojitos, good service and even live music several nights a week! We went last night on a little date and once again, had a fabulous time. We are trying to go out to eat only 1-2 times a week, which saves money, is healthier, and makes the experience more special. It seems that when we eat out like this lately, the conversation goes places it just doesn't seem to go when we eat at home. It's positive to get out of our usual space, away from the stacks of to-dos, and focus on one another. The restaurant was pretty empty last night, which is a bummer. I don't want to see it close down! So show your support for a locally owned restaurant and head over to Habana Grill the next time you're trying to pick a restaurant.
THE BAD: Pollock (Warning - spoilers ahead)
Philip and I watched this film the other night, and while it was interesting to learn about the life of this "influential American painter and a major force in the abstract expressionist movement" (thanks, Wikipedia), I didn't enjoy this movie for several reasons. The main reason was the ending. Unbeknownst to me, Jackson Pollock, an alcoholic, died at the age of 44 in a drunk-driving car crash with his girlfriend and her friend, killing the friend also.
To understand why this ending was so extra deflating, here's a little background. The entire film chronicles Pollock's relationship with his wife, Lee Krasner, strongly highlighting the role she played in caring for him, encouraging him, building his confidence, acting as his publicist and manager, and doing her best to protect him from his addiction. The film does a decent job of rounding out her character; she isn't a perfect saint - nagging, indulging in emotional fits, and approaching art from an intellectual standpoint, rather than seeing it as expression. But still, she is the true champion of the story.
The film reaches its crescendo at the height of Pollock's career. He has become rich and famous; he and Lee share a long gaze at a gallery show during which he is signing autographs. In hindsight, I think perhaps director Ed Harris intended for the gaze to indicate that he recognizes he wouldn't be where he was without Lee, but that he doesn't love her? Well, to me, his expression was too blank to communicate anything meaningful, and her little smile was like, "We're gonna be OK."
But then in the next scene - five years later we're told by a caption - Pollock is overweight and drunken and calling his wife unbelievably crude names. He has this new girlfriend, and the movie quickly descends to the closing scene, in which the car crashes into the bushes and the two girls' screams are silenced. The end.
Yeah, NOT redemptive. I guess if I'd known Pollock's story better, I would have been more prepared for this soul-squelching ending, but good grief! I sat there with my jaw on the floor for about 10 minutes. In some closing text, we find out that Lee, also an artist, goes on to live a long life managing Pollock's estate, and she even produces some of her best work in his studio. Couldn't we have at least seen her in the studio, looking tired but at peace, painting something lovely?
Aside from that, the film was very slow moving, and there were all these annoying scenes where the suspense was high and you were expecting something dramatic to happen, but then ... nothing. E.g., Pollock walks from the house to the studio in the snow; he pulls up his collar; he tosses his cigarette; all is quiet; he slowly opens the door ... What will he find? Will his work have been vandalized? Stolen?? What is behind that door???
Just his studio, exactly as he left it.
What was the point of that?!
I felt like Pollock was trying to be an epic study of a tragic hero, in the spirit of A Beautiful Mind, but it lacked the scope, the timing, and the redemption. In the end, I just found myself saying, "What a loser." Here was a talented guy with a supportive wife, and he just ended up a cheating drunk who crashed his car into a tree. I would not spend your time watching this movie.
THE UGLY: Uglydolls
Apparently these are very cool and hipster-worthy? I saw them all over Park Ave. CDs the other night, and I don't get it. Ugly stuffed animals for adults? Does it give you street cred to have one on your sofa? Who owns these things?
If you are a central Floridian, I highly recommend this restaurant! Philip and I have been here several times, and it is top-notch - great Cuban food, authentic atmosphere, yummy sangria and mojitos, good service and even live music several nights a week! We went last night on a little date and once again, had a fabulous time. We are trying to go out to eat only 1-2 times a week, which saves money, is healthier, and makes the experience more special. It seems that when we eat out like this lately, the conversation goes places it just doesn't seem to go when we eat at home. It's positive to get out of our usual space, away from the stacks of to-dos, and focus on one another. The restaurant was pretty empty last night, which is a bummer. I don't want to see it close down! So show your support for a locally owned restaurant and head over to Habana Grill the next time you're trying to pick a restaurant.
THE BAD: Pollock (Warning - spoilers ahead)
Philip and I watched this film the other night, and while it was interesting to learn about the life of this "influential American painter and a major force in the abstract expressionist movement" (thanks, Wikipedia), I didn't enjoy this movie for several reasons. The main reason was the ending. Unbeknownst to me, Jackson Pollock, an alcoholic, died at the age of 44 in a drunk-driving car crash with his girlfriend and her friend, killing the friend also.
To understand why this ending was so extra deflating, here's a little background. The entire film chronicles Pollock's relationship with his wife, Lee Krasner, strongly highlighting the role she played in caring for him, encouraging him, building his confidence, acting as his publicist and manager, and doing her best to protect him from his addiction. The film does a decent job of rounding out her character; she isn't a perfect saint - nagging, indulging in emotional fits, and approaching art from an intellectual standpoint, rather than seeing it as expression. But still, she is the true champion of the story.
The film reaches its crescendo at the height of Pollock's career. He has become rich and famous; he and Lee share a long gaze at a gallery show during which he is signing autographs. In hindsight, I think perhaps director Ed Harris intended for the gaze to indicate that he recognizes he wouldn't be where he was without Lee, but that he doesn't love her? Well, to me, his expression was too blank to communicate anything meaningful, and her little smile was like, "We're gonna be OK."
But then in the next scene - five years later we're told by a caption - Pollock is overweight and drunken and calling his wife unbelievably crude names. He has this new girlfriend, and the movie quickly descends to the closing scene, in which the car crashes into the bushes and the two girls' screams are silenced. The end.
Yeah, NOT redemptive. I guess if I'd known Pollock's story better, I would have been more prepared for this soul-squelching ending, but good grief! I sat there with my jaw on the floor for about 10 minutes. In some closing text, we find out that Lee, also an artist, goes on to live a long life managing Pollock's estate, and she even produces some of her best work in his studio. Couldn't we have at least seen her in the studio, looking tired but at peace, painting something lovely?
Aside from that, the film was very slow moving, and there were all these annoying scenes where the suspense was high and you were expecting something dramatic to happen, but then ... nothing. E.g., Pollock walks from the house to the studio in the snow; he pulls up his collar; he tosses his cigarette; all is quiet; he slowly opens the door ... What will he find? Will his work have been vandalized? Stolen?? What is behind that door???
Just his studio, exactly as he left it.
What was the point of that?!
I felt like Pollock was trying to be an epic study of a tragic hero, in the spirit of A Beautiful Mind, but it lacked the scope, the timing, and the redemption. In the end, I just found myself saying, "What a loser." Here was a talented guy with a supportive wife, and he just ended up a cheating drunk who crashed his car into a tree. I would not spend your time watching this movie.
THE UGLY: Uglydolls
Apparently these are very cool and hipster-worthy? I saw them all over Park Ave. CDs the other night, and I don't get it. Ugly stuffed animals for adults? Does it give you street cred to have one on your sofa? Who owns these things?
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
CONFESSION
Hello blog world. I feel like talking about some personal things, which is pretty risky, as a person really has no idea who is reading these electronic musings. Close friends, family, acquaintances, enemies, strangers, past employers, current employers, ex-boyfriends ... who knows? I generally assume that when I see "0 comments," no one has read what I wrote, which is likely untrue. So I am just throwing these iDeas out into the universe, having no clue the responses I'll generate - the scorn, the comfort, the disgust, the relief. Today I re-read an old post I wrote long ago, and someone who identified him/herself as merely "passer-by" commented, basically saying that he/she never wanted to read my blog again, as I seemed like a very bitter person. So at the danger of prompting disdain such as this, here I go again with some fresh mind-mush.
It was recently brought to my attention, lovingly and gently, that I had become obsessed with buying a house, and that this obsession was damaging my marriage.
I don't take criticism very well. My first instinct is to fiercely defend myself and justify my behavior. But my friend who was sharing this observation with me was being very sincere and even crying, which indicated how hard this was for her to say and how much she cared about me and wanted to see me thrive spiritually and emotionally. So while I was feeling resistant inside, outwardly, I just kind of sank really low in the sofa and got really quiet.
She then prayed for me, and I couldn't help it - I started crying. Praying is such a vulnerable thing, and if you don't do it with others very often, and then you do it sometime and it's personal, you will probably cry. That's at least what I think.
While I initially deny fault when a criticism is delivered, I will usually go off and think about it and try to decide if the criticism is warranted and if I should change. In this case, it was clear that my friend was right. Buying a house had become the central and pretty much sole goal of my life that dominated all my thoughts and conversations. It was my top priority - higher than caring for my husband, than understanding and validating his differing thoughts on the issue, even than spending time with him recreationally. All I wanted to do together was get our finances figured out and go see properties. In the process, we were experiencing a lot of conflict, which I was even blaming on him and his lack of initiative/enthusiasm for house shopping.
When I confessed these things to him, he was very gracious and even pointed out the good things we had accomplished in our house-hunting process. The thing he wanted to know was, why? Why had this become such a consuming obsession in my life?
Good question. I had to really think about my answer. An obvious response is that I'm a broken, sinful human being, so sometimes I will do bad, hurtful things. Really, I have a genuinely positive desire for a home - a safe, personalized place where we can entertain, provide lodging, deepen roots, get pets, play in the backyard, etc. But somehow this good desire got warped and took precedence over other, more important things. It somehow grew this crazy monster head that was eating at my joy. I would not rest until we had bought a house!
Why did it happen? Maybe the Enemy saw a good thing and figured out how to make it destructive. He "found a foothold," to use Christian terms. And beyond that, finding a house gave me purpose and direction in life, during a time when I was feeling purposeless and directionless in the other major areas of my life - career, church, friendship, faith.
So now I've backed off the house hunt. I made a rule for myself that I could only look at listings online while I'm at home with my husband. This may seem silly, but the times I'm most vulnerable are when I'm feeling lonely and bored. When I'm at home enjoying my husband's company, I don't generally feel this way. So in the bored and lonely and aimless times, I need to fill up my mind with something else - writing (hey - like now!), contacting friends, taking care of neglected responsibilities, talking to God.
So far this experiment has been difficult, and my desire for a house hasn't disappeared. I do feel more in control now though, and Philip and I have been happier this last week or so. And while having to admit sin is extremely uncomfortable and even painful, it's a helpful reminder of how in need of God and his grace I am. And also in need of good friends who will deliver hard but essential news.
It was recently brought to my attention, lovingly and gently, that I had become obsessed with buying a house, and that this obsession was damaging my marriage.
I don't take criticism very well. My first instinct is to fiercely defend myself and justify my behavior. But my friend who was sharing this observation with me was being very sincere and even crying, which indicated how hard this was for her to say and how much she cared about me and wanted to see me thrive spiritually and emotionally. So while I was feeling resistant inside, outwardly, I just kind of sank really low in the sofa and got really quiet.
She then prayed for me, and I couldn't help it - I started crying. Praying is such a vulnerable thing, and if you don't do it with others very often, and then you do it sometime and it's personal, you will probably cry. That's at least what I think.
While I initially deny fault when a criticism is delivered, I will usually go off and think about it and try to decide if the criticism is warranted and if I should change. In this case, it was clear that my friend was right. Buying a house had become the central and pretty much sole goal of my life that dominated all my thoughts and conversations. It was my top priority - higher than caring for my husband, than understanding and validating his differing thoughts on the issue, even than spending time with him recreationally. All I wanted to do together was get our finances figured out and go see properties. In the process, we were experiencing a lot of conflict, which I was even blaming on him and his lack of initiative/enthusiasm for house shopping.
When I confessed these things to him, he was very gracious and even pointed out the good things we had accomplished in our house-hunting process. The thing he wanted to know was, why? Why had this become such a consuming obsession in my life?
Good question. I had to really think about my answer. An obvious response is that I'm a broken, sinful human being, so sometimes I will do bad, hurtful things. Really, I have a genuinely positive desire for a home - a safe, personalized place where we can entertain, provide lodging, deepen roots, get pets, play in the backyard, etc. But somehow this good desire got warped and took precedence over other, more important things. It somehow grew this crazy monster head that was eating at my joy. I would not rest until we had bought a house!
Why did it happen? Maybe the Enemy saw a good thing and figured out how to make it destructive. He "found a foothold," to use Christian terms. And beyond that, finding a house gave me purpose and direction in life, during a time when I was feeling purposeless and directionless in the other major areas of my life - career, church, friendship, faith.
So now I've backed off the house hunt. I made a rule for myself that I could only look at listings online while I'm at home with my husband. This may seem silly, but the times I'm most vulnerable are when I'm feeling lonely and bored. When I'm at home enjoying my husband's company, I don't generally feel this way. So in the bored and lonely and aimless times, I need to fill up my mind with something else - writing (hey - like now!), contacting friends, taking care of neglected responsibilities, talking to God.
So far this experiment has been difficult, and my desire for a house hasn't disappeared. I do feel more in control now though, and Philip and I have been happier this last week or so. And while having to admit sin is extremely uncomfortable and even painful, it's a helpful reminder of how in need of God and his grace I am. And also in need of good friends who will deliver hard but essential news.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
ON MY MIND
Things have been really slow at work lately, so it’s given me a lot of time to think. Here are some things on my mind …
1. House
We are actively looking for a house to buy, and it comes as no surprise to me that it’s taking a while. It took us months to choose a dining room table and a TV, and this purchase is considerably larger. I’m very anxious to find “The One,” to make it our own, paint the walls, start replacing our hand-me-down furniture. I want to entertain and also enjoy our space when we’re sitting quietly at home together in the evening. It’s surprising to me how strong this desire is. I have to watch what I say because I overwhelm my husband, who just wants to make me happy.
2. Job
Philip and I agreed the other night that neither of us is crazy about our job. We both have decent-paying jobs that we like well enough, but we certainly don’t feel that we’re living out our life’s dream. It makes me wonder what my dream job actually is. I thought my dream would be to write full-time from home, but I tried that for a year and a half, and I struggled with the solitude and self-discipline. I’d love to be paid to write for a company. However, magazine publishing is fairly cut-throat, and I don’t really want to deal with that. Copy editing is kind of removed from the drama. That’s something I appreciate about it.
3. Vacation
We are planning to travel to Glacier National Park for our vacation this year. We intend to hike and white-water raft, and my body is not at this time conditioned to withstand these activities. We started exercising to prepare for the trip, but I overdid it and ended up with a ruptured tendon. It put an end to our three-week jogging stint and seriously discouraged me. I can’t even tell you how weak and lame I felt. I’m still kind of scared to try again, more for the fear of another failure than going through the pain again. But I’m very excited for this time in Montana — the beauty and vastness we’re going to experience. It will be very different from the beach vacations to which I’m accustomed. So I’m motivated to take two on the exercise front.
4. Best friends
My friend Sarah just gave birth to her first child, a son, at 12:05 a.m. today. My friend Amy has an almost three-year-old daughter, and I can’t imagine that number two is that far off. These women are the ones with whom I share my heart and most personal thoughts, and they are mothers. Being a mother myself is something that seems pretty distant, though I don’t want to lose touch with my mommy friends and fall too far behind in the child department. It’s not keeping up with the Joneses, but rather, being able to relate and share some of life’s most important experiences together. I’m so happy for my mommy girlfriends and thankful that they keep me around even though I don’t have any kids yet. I am just soaking up everything they unintentionally teach me about parenthood.
5. Church
Philip and I are moving toward a time of uninvolvement in our church for the summer. I can’t tell you what a relief this is. Since we’ve gotten married, we’ve never stepped back to examine where God would have us serve together. I have personally felt fairly disengaged from/frustrated with the machine that is the young-adult group we’ve been leading, and am just yearning to deepen individual friendships without the burden of keeping the machine functioning. This summer will be a breath of fresh air for me as we’ll be free from all the to-dos and can talk and pray about what’s next. I’m not sure Philip feels the same way I do …
6. Family
My parents are coming to Orlando soon for a vacation with my aunt and uncle and their kids. I can’t wait to see them. As I’ve gotten older, I feel that I can understand them so much better — they are people and peers and intimate friends. We can discuss decisions and insecurities and everyday life in a way that we never could when I was still an idiot teenager. My sister Alyssa is also headed to Florida for the months of June and July — she got an apprenticeship at a theater in Daytona! I’m so proud of her, and excited that I’ll get to see her shows and spend her birthday with her for the first time in years. My other sister Sarah just got her braces removed — another harsh reminder of her rapidly disappearing adolescence. While I enjoy our adult relationship, I still want to hold on to the little innocent girl who I used to hold on my hip. Is that OK, Sarah? You look beautiful with your braces off!
7. Marriage
While we wrestle with plans for and decisions about the future, I am completely content in my marriage to Philip Hueneke. He’s away on business right now, which always helps me appreciate more having him around to hang out with in the evenings — make dinner, chat about the day, laugh at the nightly news. He is my best friend in the entire world, who challenges and encourages and inspires me. When everything seems up in the air, Philip is the rock on which I stand. He is such an amazing gift.
8. God
I’m not feeling too close to him lately, which is really bad timing, since I desperately need his help with these major decisions we’re facing. I sometimes wonder if he has backed off intentionally, so that I’ll have to grow up and use the wisdom he’s given me to make smart choices. I’m not much of an initiator and I rely on others a lot, and I know God wants me to use the confidence he can give me to step out. But I’m also not pursuing him like I should; I can’t remember the last time I slipped away with my Bible and a journal to have a minute alone with him. In my heart of hearts, I know he’s always with me and has my back. Faith is a strange thing.
1. House
We are actively looking for a house to buy, and it comes as no surprise to me that it’s taking a while. It took us months to choose a dining room table and a TV, and this purchase is considerably larger. I’m very anxious to find “The One,” to make it our own, paint the walls, start replacing our hand-me-down furniture. I want to entertain and also enjoy our space when we’re sitting quietly at home together in the evening. It’s surprising to me how strong this desire is. I have to watch what I say because I overwhelm my husband, who just wants to make me happy.
2. Job
Philip and I agreed the other night that neither of us is crazy about our job. We both have decent-paying jobs that we like well enough, but we certainly don’t feel that we’re living out our life’s dream. It makes me wonder what my dream job actually is. I thought my dream would be to write full-time from home, but I tried that for a year and a half, and I struggled with the solitude and self-discipline. I’d love to be paid to write for a company. However, magazine publishing is fairly cut-throat, and I don’t really want to deal with that. Copy editing is kind of removed from the drama. That’s something I appreciate about it.
3. Vacation
We are planning to travel to Glacier National Park for our vacation this year. We intend to hike and white-water raft, and my body is not at this time conditioned to withstand these activities. We started exercising to prepare for the trip, but I overdid it and ended up with a ruptured tendon. It put an end to our three-week jogging stint and seriously discouraged me. I can’t even tell you how weak and lame I felt. I’m still kind of scared to try again, more for the fear of another failure than going through the pain again. But I’m very excited for this time in Montana — the beauty and vastness we’re going to experience. It will be very different from the beach vacations to which I’m accustomed. So I’m motivated to take two on the exercise front.
4. Best friends
My friend Sarah just gave birth to her first child, a son, at 12:05 a.m. today. My friend Amy has an almost three-year-old daughter, and I can’t imagine that number two is that far off. These women are the ones with whom I share my heart and most personal thoughts, and they are mothers. Being a mother myself is something that seems pretty distant, though I don’t want to lose touch with my mommy friends and fall too far behind in the child department. It’s not keeping up with the Joneses, but rather, being able to relate and share some of life’s most important experiences together. I’m so happy for my mommy girlfriends and thankful that they keep me around even though I don’t have any kids yet. I am just soaking up everything they unintentionally teach me about parenthood.
5. Church
Philip and I are moving toward a time of uninvolvement in our church for the summer. I can’t tell you what a relief this is. Since we’ve gotten married, we’ve never stepped back to examine where God would have us serve together. I have personally felt fairly disengaged from/frustrated with the machine that is the young-adult group we’ve been leading, and am just yearning to deepen individual friendships without the burden of keeping the machine functioning. This summer will be a breath of fresh air for me as we’ll be free from all the to-dos and can talk and pray about what’s next. I’m not sure Philip feels the same way I do …
6. Family
My parents are coming to Orlando soon for a vacation with my aunt and uncle and their kids. I can’t wait to see them. As I’ve gotten older, I feel that I can understand them so much better — they are people and peers and intimate friends. We can discuss decisions and insecurities and everyday life in a way that we never could when I was still an idiot teenager. My sister Alyssa is also headed to Florida for the months of June and July — she got an apprenticeship at a theater in Daytona! I’m so proud of her, and excited that I’ll get to see her shows and spend her birthday with her for the first time in years. My other sister Sarah just got her braces removed — another harsh reminder of her rapidly disappearing adolescence. While I enjoy our adult relationship, I still want to hold on to the little innocent girl who I used to hold on my hip. Is that OK, Sarah? You look beautiful with your braces off!
7. Marriage
While we wrestle with plans for and decisions about the future, I am completely content in my marriage to Philip Hueneke. He’s away on business right now, which always helps me appreciate more having him around to hang out with in the evenings — make dinner, chat about the day, laugh at the nightly news. He is my best friend in the entire world, who challenges and encourages and inspires me. When everything seems up in the air, Philip is the rock on which I stand. He is such an amazing gift.
8. God
I’m not feeling too close to him lately, which is really bad timing, since I desperately need his help with these major decisions we’re facing. I sometimes wonder if he has backed off intentionally, so that I’ll have to grow up and use the wisdom he’s given me to make smart choices. I’m not much of an initiator and I rely on others a lot, and I know God wants me to use the confidence he can give me to step out. But I’m also not pursuing him like I should; I can’t remember the last time I slipped away with my Bible and a journal to have a minute alone with him. In my heart of hearts, I know he’s always with me and has my back. Faith is a strange thing.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
WRASLIN' GATORS
This weekend our good friends Dianna and Jose came to visit. It had been a heavy couple of weeks leading up to their stay ... Philip and I are in the midst of some pretty life-changing decisions regarding housing, church, and career. It was great to just put that stuff out of our minds for a couple of days and enjoy conversation, games, meals, and adventures with close friends.
On Saturday, we played hooky from church to canoe Rock Springs Run. This is something I have been wanting to do for years, and it lived up to my expectations. We paddled eight miles and saw alligators, birds, turtles, fish, and even an otter. Philip and I successfully tested our ability to work together and had sparse conversation. I just reveled in the quiet. I was able to breathe and relax. I felt like rather than waiting and wondering, I was just living.
We stopped to eat our packed lunch at a campsite, and Jose totally lost his balance when he stood up in the canoe, collapsing into the one foot of water and flipping their canoe upside down. Unfortunately, I didn't see it happen; I only heard the loud splash, Dianna reassuring him: "You're OK; you're fine," and Philip yelling, "Save the lunch! Save the lunch!" which had started to float down the river.
Thankfully, neither the lunch nor Jose was hurt, and we got a good laugh out of the whole ordeal. Jose was a really good sport; it was actually his first time canoeing ever in his life, and he did great, steering and all. We decided that to up the ante, we should tell people that an alligator tipped the canoe, and Jose had to wrestle it to get free ... but I can't help it - I'm an honest storyteller.
Pics are up on Flickr.
On Saturday, we played hooky from church to canoe Rock Springs Run. This is something I have been wanting to do for years, and it lived up to my expectations. We paddled eight miles and saw alligators, birds, turtles, fish, and even an otter. Philip and I successfully tested our ability to work together and had sparse conversation. I just reveled in the quiet. I was able to breathe and relax. I felt like rather than waiting and wondering, I was just living.
We stopped to eat our packed lunch at a campsite, and Jose totally lost his balance when he stood up in the canoe, collapsing into the one foot of water and flipping their canoe upside down. Unfortunately, I didn't see it happen; I only heard the loud splash, Dianna reassuring him: "You're OK; you're fine," and Philip yelling, "Save the lunch! Save the lunch!" which had started to float down the river.
Thankfully, neither the lunch nor Jose was hurt, and we got a good laugh out of the whole ordeal. Jose was a really good sport; it was actually his first time canoeing ever in his life, and he did great, steering and all. We decided that to up the ante, we should tell people that an alligator tipped the canoe, and Jose had to wrestle it to get free ... but I can't help it - I'm an honest storyteller.
Pics are up on Flickr.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
HOUSE OBSESSION
Philip and I are officially shopping for our first house. This explains why you may still be waiting on a phone call or e-mail from me, or why I probably haven't seen you in the past few weeks. Every free moment is spent looking at houses online, looking at houses in real life, talking about houses, crunching numbers, getting excited about houses, getting depressed about houses, etc.
By now we've probably been inside 25 properties or more. We should have warned our real-estate agent that we were going to be an endurance challenge. We are careful decision makers, to put it mildly.
I have become deeply interested in the people who live in the houses we look at. It's probably unhealthy. I study their storage solutions, their colors, their decor. I look at their shoes and try to make inferences about their personalities. I note if they have pets or babies. I admire their wedding portraits.
I am especially fascinated with the people who live in the houses we really like and have strongly considered buying. It seems that if we both like this house so much, we must be alike somehow. We have something in common. I wonder about where they were at in life when they bought the house. I want to ask them, "Were you newlyweds like us, looking at your first place? Or were you a little further along in life, maybe 'upgrading'? Did you fear that you might get in over your heads too? Did you think about having a child or two in this place? Why are you moving now? Can't we sit down and have dinner or something? By the looks of your pictures, you seem like nice people we could be friends with."
We've been on the Orange County appraiser's website to see when these folks bought their houses and how much they paid for them, and when you do that, you find out the owners' names. These names have become household terms in our apartment, and one night while we were watching our favorite nightly news program, Philip said, "One of those news anchors is named Chris Egert. Isn't that the name of the guy who owns the house on Dauphin that we like?" We brought up the property on the appraiser's website, and sure enough, there he was, good old Chris.
Knowing exactly who owns the place and what he does for a living — that I see him every night in my living room — doesn't help this weird little obsession of mine. Today I went online to hunt down info on the owners of another house we really like, and I found out they are gay local filmmakers. I'm not sure what that tells me about what we have in common as kindred souls who both found something special in a particular house, but it makes for a good story at any rate.
By now we've probably been inside 25 properties or more. We should have warned our real-estate agent that we were going to be an endurance challenge. We are careful decision makers, to put it mildly.
I have become deeply interested in the people who live in the houses we look at. It's probably unhealthy. I study their storage solutions, their colors, their decor. I look at their shoes and try to make inferences about their personalities. I note if they have pets or babies. I admire their wedding portraits.
I am especially fascinated with the people who live in the houses we really like and have strongly considered buying. It seems that if we both like this house so much, we must be alike somehow. We have something in common. I wonder about where they were at in life when they bought the house. I want to ask them, "Were you newlyweds like us, looking at your first place? Or were you a little further along in life, maybe 'upgrading'? Did you fear that you might get in over your heads too? Did you think about having a child or two in this place? Why are you moving now? Can't we sit down and have dinner or something? By the looks of your pictures, you seem like nice people we could be friends with."
We've been on the Orange County appraiser's website to see when these folks bought their houses and how much they paid for them, and when you do that, you find out the owners' names. These names have become household terms in our apartment, and one night while we were watching our favorite nightly news program, Philip said, "One of those news anchors is named Chris Egert. Isn't that the name of the guy who owns the house on Dauphin that we like?" We brought up the property on the appraiser's website, and sure enough, there he was, good old Chris.
Knowing exactly who owns the place and what he does for a living — that I see him every night in my living room — doesn't help this weird little obsession of mine. Today I went online to hunt down info on the owners of another house we really like, and I found out they are gay local filmmakers. I'm not sure what that tells me about what we have in common as kindred souls who both found something special in a particular house, but it makes for a good story at any rate.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
CONFLICT IS SO COOL
Philip and I got in a fight last night. No tears or yelling this time, and the curse words were kept to a minimum, so it really wasn't some huge emotional deal. Basically, we were discussing the idea of "your space"/"my space"/"our space" and our differing views on the subject. This evolved into a conversation about roles in the household, and we eventually landed in a dialogue about my people-pleasing tendencies and Philip's controlling tendencies, which sometimes isn't the greatest combo and is often a place our arguments go.
Conflict in marriage is a funny thing. It'll sneak up on us, seemingly from nowhere, but I'm beginning to identify some patterns. For example, being hungry doesn't help. Stress carried home from work is not a friend. General feelings of grumpiness tend to spread, and tiredness works against us. Often it's unvoiced or misunderstood expectations that foil us, and our vastly different upbringings are often a contributing factor. Always present in our conflicts is insecurity.
We certainly fight less than we did while we were dating and in the first months of marriage. We know much more now about each other's needs, desires, and expectations. We know which buttons not to push. And now that we're married, the element of, "Is this it? Are we going to break up?" is removed, which lowers the stakes a LOT.
I sometimes wonder, "How often is it normal to fight?" I read in a book about marriage that once a week is a healthy amount, but that seems high to me. I hate fighting and would like to engage in a fight about zero times a week. But I do realize that conflict can be helpful, that it brings out the important feelings we sometimes bury or forget about, that it makes us better communicators and helps us to learn more about one another. It just sucks!
Since we've been married, we've only had one all-out screamfest. That was hell, and I never want to go there again. That seems too far. But sometimes emotion just takes over I guess, and then you have to go through the steps to heal from all the hurtful things said. The healing process is important too - the extra care of each other, the true remorse that reminds us how broken and in need of God we are, the learning how to really forgive.
I do think conflict in marriage - and conflict in general - isn't talked about nearly enough. Are we the only couple who fight? Who sometimes stand across the room from each other glaring, thinking mean things and saying slightly less mean things? I mean, as far as I know, even some of my closest friends never go at it with their spouses. I guess it's embarrassing to admit, makes us look less perfect and reveals that we don't have it all together. Are we afraid to talk about it because we think we're alone and people will feel sorry for us, rather than be able to relate and find comfort in the fact that other people go through rough patches too?
At any rate, don't be concerned about the argument Philip and I had last night. While I don't think we really resolved anything once and for all (we rarely do), we made up in our own little way. It goes like this: First, we wearily concede that we’ve said all there is to say for now. After a brief period of stiff politeness when communication is necessary, we give each other sad looks, which is the code for, "OK, I'm not mad anymore, but I'm not quite ready to apologize." Then one or the other of us will make a joke, which breaks up some of the tension hanging between us. This opens the door to renewed physical contact - the hug - which will give way to the actual apology.
So what do you think? Does all this sound totally crazy and foreign?
Conflict in marriage is a funny thing. It'll sneak up on us, seemingly from nowhere, but I'm beginning to identify some patterns. For example, being hungry doesn't help. Stress carried home from work is not a friend. General feelings of grumpiness tend to spread, and tiredness works against us. Often it's unvoiced or misunderstood expectations that foil us, and our vastly different upbringings are often a contributing factor. Always present in our conflicts is insecurity.
We certainly fight less than we did while we were dating and in the first months of marriage. We know much more now about each other's needs, desires, and expectations. We know which buttons not to push. And now that we're married, the element of, "Is this it? Are we going to break up?" is removed, which lowers the stakes a LOT.
I sometimes wonder, "How often is it normal to fight?" I read in a book about marriage that once a week is a healthy amount, but that seems high to me. I hate fighting and would like to engage in a fight about zero times a week. But I do realize that conflict can be helpful, that it brings out the important feelings we sometimes bury or forget about, that it makes us better communicators and helps us to learn more about one another. It just sucks!
Since we've been married, we've only had one all-out screamfest. That was hell, and I never want to go there again. That seems too far. But sometimes emotion just takes over I guess, and then you have to go through the steps to heal from all the hurtful things said. The healing process is important too - the extra care of each other, the true remorse that reminds us how broken and in need of God we are, the learning how to really forgive.
I do think conflict in marriage - and conflict in general - isn't talked about nearly enough. Are we the only couple who fight? Who sometimes stand across the room from each other glaring, thinking mean things and saying slightly less mean things? I mean, as far as I know, even some of my closest friends never go at it with their spouses. I guess it's embarrassing to admit, makes us look less perfect and reveals that we don't have it all together. Are we afraid to talk about it because we think we're alone and people will feel sorry for us, rather than be able to relate and find comfort in the fact that other people go through rough patches too?
At any rate, don't be concerned about the argument Philip and I had last night. While I don't think we really resolved anything once and for all (we rarely do), we made up in our own little way. It goes like this: First, we wearily concede that we’ve said all there is to say for now. After a brief period of stiff politeness when communication is necessary, we give each other sad looks, which is the code for, "OK, I'm not mad anymore, but I'm not quite ready to apologize." Then one or the other of us will make a joke, which breaks up some of the tension hanging between us. This opens the door to renewed physical contact - the hug - which will give way to the actual apology.
So what do you think? Does all this sound totally crazy and foreign?
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
AMERICANS ON PARADE
No matter where you're from, when you go to a new place, people want to ask you questions. There is one requirement: you must be from someplace unique or famous or really far away. If you're from Atlanta, nobody wants to know about your day-to-day in Wichita. But if you live in Orlando or New York, people have questions for you. Don't be discouraged, people of Wichita. You live in America which is one of the most famous countries on earth, so when you go to another country, you'll be questioned too. In fact, start beefing up your knowledge about Mickey Mouse, giant hamburgers and George W. These are apparently your favorite subjects.
When you're traveling and there are a group of natives nearby that realize that you're from a (unique/famous/distant) foreign place, one of them will inevitably become bold enough to approach you. Sometimes they have genuine curiosity and other times they just want to show that they aren't afraid of you. But regardless of the motive, their line of questioning will always point you right towards the stereotypes that they hold.
Tonight, the group of three other Americans that I'm traveling with went to a pub here in England to get a beer and some food. The place was fairly empty and the bartender was really nice. As we were eating our dinner and discussing the day, an older man that was sitting with a group of younger guys staggered over to us. There were only two groups in the pub, so picking out the Americans wasn't difficult. He had stories of coming to America and being horribly mistreated by giant hillbillies that relentlessly asked him if it was "tea time". Up next was what seems to be a popular topic for the British when talking to Americans ... Iraq. I say that with a sigh because very little productive conversation about such a complex topic is going to happen when you've put away a couple of pints or in his case, six. But because logic doesn't usually prevail at pubs or bars or nightclubs, the conversation marched on. As the man began to ask what we thought about Iraq and the overall situation in the middle east, he asked a rhetorical question that sent steam out of my coworker's (and former paratrooper) ears.
If you know me at all, you know that I'm not a very good flag-waving patriot. I've been a huge critic (detractor?) of The W. for a long time and feel awkward when saying the pledge of allegiance. Regardless of all of that, I'm still human. I don't like it when people die. It makes me sad when a solder dies and it made sad when Saddam Hussein died. I hate that darkness is in this world. The man that approached us was clearly not in his right mind after multiple doses of truth serum, but he's not the first Brit to approach me on this topic.
The next time that I meet someone from a (unique/famous/distant) foreign place, I want to be more aware of my own stereotypes, prejudices and assumptions. Oh yeah, and if you're my friend, don't let me talk to anyone after six beers.
When you're traveling and there are a group of natives nearby that realize that you're from a (unique/famous/distant) foreign place, one of them will inevitably become bold enough to approach you. Sometimes they have genuine curiosity and other times they just want to show that they aren't afraid of you. But regardless of the motive, their line of questioning will always point you right towards the stereotypes that they hold.
Tonight, the group of three other Americans that I'm traveling with went to a pub here in England to get a beer and some food. The place was fairly empty and the bartender was really nice. As we were eating our dinner and discussing the day, an older man that was sitting with a group of younger guys staggered over to us. There were only two groups in the pub, so picking out the Americans wasn't difficult. He had stories of coming to America and being horribly mistreated by giant hillbillies that relentlessly asked him if it was "tea time". Up next was what seems to be a popular topic for the British when talking to Americans ... Iraq. I say that with a sigh because very little productive conversation about such a complex topic is going to happen when you've put away a couple of pints or in his case, six. But because logic doesn't usually prevail at pubs or bars or nightclubs, the conversation marched on. As the man began to ask what we thought about Iraq and the overall situation in the middle east, he asked a rhetorical question that sent steam out of my coworker's (and former paratrooper) ears.
"Americans don't really care much when a solder dies over there do they? It doesn't seem to concern you much."He proceeded to tell us that the English become very vocal and have public outrage when one of their solders dies. I saw on BBC last night that a British solder died two days ago in Afghanistan. I guess this guy was bringing his public outrage to the pub.
If you know me at all, you know that I'm not a very good flag-waving patriot. I've been a huge critic (detractor?) of The W. for a long time and feel awkward when saying the pledge of allegiance. Regardless of all of that, I'm still human. I don't like it when people die. It makes me sad when a solder dies and it made sad when Saddam Hussein died. I hate that darkness is in this world. The man that approached us was clearly not in his right mind after multiple doses of truth serum, but he's not the first Brit to approach me on this topic.
The next time that I meet someone from a (unique/famous/distant) foreign place, I want to be more aware of my own stereotypes, prejudices and assumptions. Oh yeah, and if you're my friend, don't let me talk to anyone after six beers.
Monday, January 15, 2007
EVERYONE'S FAVORITE PERSON
There's a good chance that you have positive memories of your grandma. Maybe she always had cookies when you came over or maybe she gave you a few extra dollars from time to time. Perhaps her very presence was calming and inviting. While traveling on a train in England today, I sat across from one of these special people.
This grandma was traveling with what appeared to be her 30-something son, 20-something daughter and the 20-something daughter's two pre-school age children. But this grandma wasn't just another grandma on a family trip. As I got on the train, I saw that she and her children were punishing Carling tall-boys (English beer). This is 12pm on a Monday. Also, I thought it was odd that she was carrying a grocery bag filled with other miscellaneous beers. Whatever. You're allowed to drink on trains over here, so no biggy, right? Sporting a thigh length sweater dress, knee high boots and a belly that would make most truckers jealous, I kept thinking, "when did Posh Spice get so old?". When grandma would talk (belligerently slur) at her grandkids, they would just look at her like confused puppies. Grandma would get frustrated and try to hit unsuccessfully swat them. Next, she would lean over to me saying, "I'll spend Beckham's effin money... you bet... effin...".
Needless to say, she made the train ride really long. There really is no deep moral to this post. Several British people have talked to me about how many rednecks there are in America. Apparently they exist in England too.
This grandma was traveling with what appeared to be her 30-something son, 20-something daughter and the 20-something daughter's two pre-school age children. But this grandma wasn't just another grandma on a family trip. As I got on the train, I saw that she and her children were punishing Carling tall-boys (English beer). This is 12pm on a Monday. Also, I thought it was odd that she was carrying a grocery bag filled with other miscellaneous beers. Whatever. You're allowed to drink on trains over here, so no biggy, right? Sporting a thigh length sweater dress, knee high boots and a belly that would make most truckers jealous, I kept thinking, "when did Posh Spice get so old?". When grandma would talk (belligerently slur) at her grandkids, they would just look at her like confused puppies. Grandma would get frustrated and try to hit unsuccessfully swat them. Next, she would lean over to me saying, "I'll spend Beckham's effin money... you bet... effin...".
Needless to say, she made the train ride really long. There really is no deep moral to this post. Several British people have talked to me about how many rednecks there are in America. Apparently they exist in England too.
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