Oh, the neglect of this blog. I want to get back to you. We are currently in the middle of a move, blog, but I will love on you soon. Please stand by for photos of the new place and the things I put inside of it. This is all brought to you at the special request of one of my four blog followers.
Much love,
Erica
Friday, March 4, 2011
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Holiday Happenings
In my opinion this is one of the most exciting times of the year. Yes, I get a little bit stressed, but I try very hard not to because at the center of all the commotion is something much deeper and much more important than what color or fabric of sweater I should purchase for my family member. Especially with Jacob being in the military, I feel I have a new appreciation for time with family, eating meals together, and enjoying conversation. I say all of this, knowing that it is cliche and admitting that I am only human. So, I got stressed. I got really really stressed last weekend.
It all started with a budget. I am very proud of my budget making abilities, but sometimes do not have the foresight or the discipline to include things like tax and just that one extra little thing I want to buy for somebody. Anyway, I have been doing really well this year. I think better than last year. So, I have been traveling around to the local stores here with a modest Christmas envelope, set aside just for gifts for our loved ones. I had allotted one last portion of the money for a couple gift. I even planned the day with a friend to go to the specific store and buy the specific thing (the store is magical and so you usually want to ask someone else if they need to go too). Anyway, what I wanted to buy was a beautiful glass casserole dish that rests in a silver holding piece with a Fleur de lis design. The collection is beautiful, and I have loved the one that I have so very much.
When you pick a display piece at the store, the associates usually go to the back and find one in a box for you. This was the case that Saturday, and the associate asked me if I would like it gift wrapped. Well, I had planned to demonstrate how to gift wrap a package on this blog, so I said, "No thank you", and moved on my merry way. Two hours later, I removed the dish from the bag to show Jacob, and to my horror, it was in a million pieces on the tile in seconds. The bag was narrow, the package was in the narrow bag sideways and un-taped. Whoops. In total shock, I began cleaning up the pieces, thinking about saving up in the weeks to come for a new casserole. As we continued cleaning, I thought I should at least try to take it back. The way it was laying in the bag didn't really make sense, and I thought I might be able to get a discount on another or buy the display at a markdown.
I entered the store with a dented silver holder, a miraculously in tact lid, and a thousand tiny shards of glass that used to be a casserole dish. I explained the situation. Of course the woman who put the dish in the bag was the first to say, "If the product left here in good condition, there is really nothing we can do about it". I picked up my box and said, "Thank you, I understand". And I did. I had some blame in this situation for not being more careful when I removed it. Almost to the door, I heard someone say, "No, no come on back in here". I turned, probably with the blood drained out of my face as the manager asked, "Is the silver piece alright? I could probably get another casserole sent to me no problem". "No," I said, "It has a pretty big dent in it". He took it back anyway.
The lady at the counter chimed in, "All we have left is the display". The manager took that display dish and delicately wrapped it in tissue paper. Another associate said, "Let him gift wrap that for you. He does the most beautiful bows". I could not believe what was happening. As my eyes filled up to the brim with tears I told them that it was really not necessary. After gentle prodding, I accepted the gift wrap, and watched, overwhelmed by kindness, as he took his time making that box look beautiful and treating me like I was the most important customer of the day. By the time it was all said and done, I couldn't even speak. Tears just streamed down my face as I attempted to get out a "Thank you".
I cried the entire way home. I cried a good 30 minutes after I got there. Something about the contrast in behavior and attitudes struck me. Being met with someone with such little empathy to someone displaying such a selfless and overwhelming act of kindness was exhausting. The shock of it was like ice bath to sauna in an instant. One experience definitely out shined the other, and I left the store with an indescribable feeling. I loved it before for the products it sold, but now I have respect and amazement for the service and the compassion. If you live in Enterprise, AL, you have probably been to "Pure Imagination". It is a great store. It is the store I am talking about in this blog. I just felt like I should write about it, saying "Thank you" in the best way I know how. That day felt like such a blessing, and it could not have come at a better time of the year.
It all started with a budget. I am very proud of my budget making abilities, but sometimes do not have the foresight or the discipline to include things like tax and just that one extra little thing I want to buy for somebody. Anyway, I have been doing really well this year. I think better than last year. So, I have been traveling around to the local stores here with a modest Christmas envelope, set aside just for gifts for our loved ones. I had allotted one last portion of the money for a couple gift. I even planned the day with a friend to go to the specific store and buy the specific thing (the store is magical and so you usually want to ask someone else if they need to go too). Anyway, what I wanted to buy was a beautiful glass casserole dish that rests in a silver holding piece with a Fleur de lis design. The collection is beautiful, and I have loved the one that I have so very much.
When you pick a display piece at the store, the associates usually go to the back and find one in a box for you. This was the case that Saturday, and the associate asked me if I would like it gift wrapped. Well, I had planned to demonstrate how to gift wrap a package on this blog, so I said, "No thank you", and moved on my merry way. Two hours later, I removed the dish from the bag to show Jacob, and to my horror, it was in a million pieces on the tile in seconds. The bag was narrow, the package was in the narrow bag sideways and un-taped. Whoops. In total shock, I began cleaning up the pieces, thinking about saving up in the weeks to come for a new casserole. As we continued cleaning, I thought I should at least try to take it back. The way it was laying in the bag didn't really make sense, and I thought I might be able to get a discount on another or buy the display at a markdown.
I entered the store with a dented silver holder, a miraculously in tact lid, and a thousand tiny shards of glass that used to be a casserole dish. I explained the situation. Of course the woman who put the dish in the bag was the first to say, "If the product left here in good condition, there is really nothing we can do about it". I picked up my box and said, "Thank you, I understand". And I did. I had some blame in this situation for not being more careful when I removed it. Almost to the door, I heard someone say, "No, no come on back in here". I turned, probably with the blood drained out of my face as the manager asked, "Is the silver piece alright? I could probably get another casserole sent to me no problem". "No," I said, "It has a pretty big dent in it". He took it back anyway.
The lady at the counter chimed in, "All we have left is the display". The manager took that display dish and delicately wrapped it in tissue paper. Another associate said, "Let him gift wrap that for you. He does the most beautiful bows". I could not believe what was happening. As my eyes filled up to the brim with tears I told them that it was really not necessary. After gentle prodding, I accepted the gift wrap, and watched, overwhelmed by kindness, as he took his time making that box look beautiful and treating me like I was the most important customer of the day. By the time it was all said and done, I couldn't even speak. Tears just streamed down my face as I attempted to get out a "Thank you".
I cried the entire way home. I cried a good 30 minutes after I got there. Something about the contrast in behavior and attitudes struck me. Being met with someone with such little empathy to someone displaying such a selfless and overwhelming act of kindness was exhausting. The shock of it was like ice bath to sauna in an instant. One experience definitely out shined the other, and I left the store with an indescribable feeling. I loved it before for the products it sold, but now I have respect and amazement for the service and the compassion. If you live in Enterprise, AL, you have probably been to "Pure Imagination". It is a great store. It is the store I am talking about in this blog. I just felt like I should write about it, saying "Thank you" in the best way I know how. That day felt like such a blessing, and it could not have come at a better time of the year.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Ramblings
We have 5 pounds of clementines in our kitchen. Thank you manager's special. I am a sucker for those signs, and when I saw the wooden crate they came in, I was taken. Not to mention, clementines are one of those things you can't get all season long (or at least I think not). New fruits, seasonal fruits, I am totally into it. Let's mix up the produce please.
Anyway, I got home and emptied out the wooden crate. My bookends have broken in a couple different places because they aren't really heavy enough to hold up my cookbooks. It is a very delicate balancing act, and if you grab something too swiftly or don't have the arrangement just right, the bookend hits the tile and the monkey glue comes out of the junk drawer. So, the crate. The crate has managed to become my new cookbook holder. It works much better, and my usual delight at free things is fulfilled.
Also, there are three creamers in my fridge. I realized I had a problem with this when I was at lunch yesterday. The lady I was eating with was telling me about how she couldn't find her normal creamer. I asked several descriptive questions and when she told me that she had given up and bought the Italian Sweet Cream, I said, "Oh yes, the pink and red bottle". Oh dear. I have such an affinity for a variety in coffee creamer. What really has me right now are all the holiday creamers. We are sort of in between seasons so the Pumpkin Spice is still out on the shelves, but the Peppermint Mocha has come in for Christmas.
A list of projects hangs up in my kitchen. They are all tasks that I feel I should accomplish before we move. Two of them have been on my mind for weeks and weeks. Do you ever have that feeling? You stare at that thing that needs to get done, but it seems so unappealing that you will do anything else to avoid it? Number one, remove mold from shower liner. I stare at it every day (please don't judge me). They are just little specks, but they stare me in the face each morning. Number two, sweep out the garage. Ever since my husband so lovingly bug bombed the area there has been a corner filled with crunchy looking insects, on their backs, legs pointed straight for the sky. Ew. Ew, but I still don't want to do it. Ew, even though I have time.
Anyway, I got home and emptied out the wooden crate. My bookends have broken in a couple different places because they aren't really heavy enough to hold up my cookbooks. It is a very delicate balancing act, and if you grab something too swiftly or don't have the arrangement just right, the bookend hits the tile and the monkey glue comes out of the junk drawer. So, the crate. The crate has managed to become my new cookbook holder. It works much better, and my usual delight at free things is fulfilled.
Also, there are three creamers in my fridge. I realized I had a problem with this when I was at lunch yesterday. The lady I was eating with was telling me about how she couldn't find her normal creamer. I asked several descriptive questions and when she told me that she had given up and bought the Italian Sweet Cream, I said, "Oh yes, the pink and red bottle". Oh dear. I have such an affinity for a variety in coffee creamer. What really has me right now are all the holiday creamers. We are sort of in between seasons so the Pumpkin Spice is still out on the shelves, but the Peppermint Mocha has come in for Christmas.
A list of projects hangs up in my kitchen. They are all tasks that I feel I should accomplish before we move. Two of them have been on my mind for weeks and weeks. Do you ever have that feeling? You stare at that thing that needs to get done, but it seems so unappealing that you will do anything else to avoid it? Number one, remove mold from shower liner. I stare at it every day (please don't judge me). They are just little specks, but they stare me in the face each morning. Number two, sweep out the garage. Ever since my husband so lovingly bug bombed the area there has been a corner filled with crunchy looking insects, on their backs, legs pointed straight for the sky. Ew. Ew, but I still don't want to do it. Ew, even though I have time.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
The Perfect Belt
There are exceptional moments when thriftiness has to fall by the wayside. You can ask Jacob, it's true, I make up my own rules as I go. I am referring to what I purchased on the internet yesterday and cannot deny the humor and hypocrisy of it. For his (my husband's) flight school graduation I went to Dillard's and found a beautiful dress on the clearance rack. I even managed to haggle an extra 10% off because the waisted belt that came with it was the wrong size (not to mention it was patent leather and hideous and I didn't want it anyway). In total, I spent a little over $30.00 for this black Gianni Binni dress with a pencil skirt and sophisticated sweetheart neckline.
In my mind I had images, as I think most women do, of what the complete outfit should entail. Animal print just will not leave my fashion thoughts alone these days, so I was fixated on finding a skinny waist belt with such a print. I have looked for weeks now, (the graduation is not until February, mind you) on the hunt for just the right thing. It was as if I could not rest until the matter was settled and the outfit was complete and before my very own eyes. Yesterday, I perused online, immediately finding what I was looking for on the Ann Taylor website. The belt was $38. The belt was more expensive than the dress. I didn't care. I paid for that expensive belt and that ludicrous $12.95 shipping with only a very slight hesitation. Altogether, that belt cost me $60. Is that ridiculous? I think it is. I think it is ridiculous that I pride myself on such frugality and then display that sort of behavior.
However, every once in awhile breaking up the monotony of the routine is a good thing. As I have come to find this past year, practicality can lead to low and dull places. The insensible is sometimes the most sensible choice there is.
Public shopping areas have me feeling the Christmas spirit. I feel ready to dig out the tree and the ornaments and get to it. There is nothing better than snuggling up and reading a book or watching TV by Christmas tree light. Usually I would say I would start decorating after Thanksgiving, but we won't be here. Also, we leave to visit family for two weeks out of the Christmas season. A radio station I was listening to last night asked the question, "How early is too early for Christmas decorations?" I only heard one answer and the man said, "When the trick-or-treaters start singing Christmas carols". I am assuming this is a clever little expression he made up on his own to convey his point. Trick-or-treaters don't sing Christmas songs to me. Although, the last two years we haven't had any trick-or-treaters. So maybe I don't even really know what's going on out there.
Anyway, I think I am going to put the decorations up soon. We have Xbox live radio and I am going to look for a station that plays Christmas music. It may not exist, but I will look anyway, and if it does exist, it will be playing as I happily hang wreaths and piece together our artificial and prelit Douglas-fir.
As I went to make the coffee this morning, I thought to myself, "I wonder if I will still be using these coffee filters when we live in Kansas". Oh the feelings, emotions, and events I will encounter just going through that one package of filters. I will reach into that plastic wrapping and grab a brown natural brew paper lining each day, slightly altered by the experiences of the day before. I will be the same person with ever changing circumstances. All of us are moving forward at a pace we cannot detect from moment to moment, but it is a constant movement that cannot be stopped, reversed, or slowed. That is what I think when I see the coffee filters.
In my mind I had images, as I think most women do, of what the complete outfit should entail. Animal print just will not leave my fashion thoughts alone these days, so I was fixated on finding a skinny waist belt with such a print. I have looked for weeks now, (the graduation is not until February, mind you) on the hunt for just the right thing. It was as if I could not rest until the matter was settled and the outfit was complete and before my very own eyes. Yesterday, I perused online, immediately finding what I was looking for on the Ann Taylor website. The belt was $38. The belt was more expensive than the dress. I didn't care. I paid for that expensive belt and that ludicrous $12.95 shipping with only a very slight hesitation. Altogether, that belt cost me $60. Is that ridiculous? I think it is. I think it is ridiculous that I pride myself on such frugality and then display that sort of behavior.
However, every once in awhile breaking up the monotony of the routine is a good thing. As I have come to find this past year, practicality can lead to low and dull places. The insensible is sometimes the most sensible choice there is.
Public shopping areas have me feeling the Christmas spirit. I feel ready to dig out the tree and the ornaments and get to it. There is nothing better than snuggling up and reading a book or watching TV by Christmas tree light. Usually I would say I would start decorating after Thanksgiving, but we won't be here. Also, we leave to visit family for two weeks out of the Christmas season. A radio station I was listening to last night asked the question, "How early is too early for Christmas decorations?" I only heard one answer and the man said, "When the trick-or-treaters start singing Christmas carols". I am assuming this is a clever little expression he made up on his own to convey his point. Trick-or-treaters don't sing Christmas songs to me. Although, the last two years we haven't had any trick-or-treaters. So maybe I don't even really know what's going on out there.
Anyway, I think I am going to put the decorations up soon. We have Xbox live radio and I am going to look for a station that plays Christmas music. It may not exist, but I will look anyway, and if it does exist, it will be playing as I happily hang wreaths and piece together our artificial and prelit Douglas-fir.
As I went to make the coffee this morning, I thought to myself, "I wonder if I will still be using these coffee filters when we live in Kansas". Oh the feelings, emotions, and events I will encounter just going through that one package of filters. I will reach into that plastic wrapping and grab a brown natural brew paper lining each day, slightly altered by the experiences of the day before. I will be the same person with ever changing circumstances. All of us are moving forward at a pace we cannot detect from moment to moment, but it is a constant movement that cannot be stopped, reversed, or slowed. That is what I think when I see the coffee filters.
Monday, November 1, 2010
More on bits of this and that
No one for class today. Hence, the opportunity to write a blog at 5:45 in the morning. I came home feeling a little bit defeated, even after belting out the lyrics to "What's Up" by 4 Non Blondes. You know, "...I said hey, hey, hey, hey, what's going on?" That one. So, I came home and created my own little nook filled with pillows and my laptop, blogging by lamplight. The coffee pot, an ever giving source of comfort, is hissing and burping its way through the creation of my favorite morning beverage.
Just went and put my coffee in a Life Net Medical Services mug. Something my brother received at a training conference during his time as a Critical Care Nurse. Sometimes I search for this mug, digging it out from a place in the back of the cabinet; it reminds me of all the other little funny things he would bring me from work like an obnoxious amount of ballpoint pens or pen lights, one produced from his pocket each time I saw him. These things meant something to me because in a weird way it meant that he was thinking about me. I still remember when I started nursing school and he came to my work with a bag for me. I opened it and it had essentials like a clip board with a calculator, pens, sticky notes, etc. I looked at him with tears in my eyes, and he stared back at me like, "please this is a far cry from a situation that requires such emotional behavior". I could just tell that he was excited for me and had taken the time to specifically pick some things out that he thought would be helpful and useful. So, that is why I dig for the mug. I dig for the mug because it is comforting and it reminds me of that quirky relationship we have with layers and layers of humor, beneath it lying a strong and unspoken bond.
I don't think I ever had the opportunity to blog about the roasted heads of garlic that I made for a recipe. The recipe itself was not that spectacular, but the garlic turned out to be amazing. It is really much more simple than I imagined it would be (so are many of the great mysteries in cooking). If you visit this website http://simplyrecipes.com/recipes/roasted_garlic you can get the recipe for yourself and enjoy. If you love garlic, you will love the way this whole process makes your house smell. It is glorious. The website also recommends some great ways to use the garlic such as spreading it over warm french bread or mixing with sour cream for a topping on baked potatoes. Yum.
Blogging has been secondary to a lot of other things I have been doing lately. I learned from briefly reading "The Pioneer Woman's" blog that you should nurture and water your blog daily just like you would a house plant. My house plant would be crispy and brown by now. Let me tell you the kinds of things I have been experiencing that have kept me away. I was at a clinic last week, sitting by myself, when a prospective customer came into view. He walked over to my table and asked, "Is this where I can get my rabies shot?" Wow, did it take self control to respond to that one. It just smacked me upside the head with unexpectedness. Then, bam, without time to recuperate, this woman wheels her cart up, parks it in front of my table, and begins trying on sweatshirts, asking my opinion. She lays her hangers down on the table top. Guess I wasn't really using it anyway. She also insists that I examine the two shirts she has tried on that say they are the same size, but could not possibly be. Labels are folded out so that I can verify, shirts are held up together at the same time so I can experience a baffling visual of the difference in size. During that week I also served as translator on a cell phone, dressing room director, and got asked several times where the Halloween items were located.
One thing I did enjoy about being so still and observant was looking at what people were buying. I particularly liked the baby doll in the older gentleman's cart. He looked so sweet and so patient. It reminded me of the things that my grandfather would buy for me. He volunteered at the hospital for years and would often bring me things from the gift shop. I still have this Ty brand bear, dressed in a clown suit that he gave me. I was probably too old for it at the time, but I loved it and have kept it all these years. It wasn't what he bought me, it was that he thought of me. I could just imagine him standing in there wondering what in the world a young girl would think was a neat gift. I have noticed that older people have a tendency to pick gifts reminiscent of their generation. This fresh perspective has the potential to introduce us to part of their past as well as giving us something new to try or experience. Yesterday, my dad and step mom and I were discussing some of the stories my grandfather used to tell. One of my personal favorites was about when he quit smoking. During this time he took the cash he usually spent on cigarettes, and stashed it in the top of the hall closet. He said week after week and month after month it collected, until eventually he opened the door and money just cascaded out around him, hundreds and hundreds of bills. He was a bit of an exaggerator.
One last thing about Walmart. Sitting there, I had the opportunity to see several female college students and observe how they were dressed. I remember those times, hair in a large knot on top of the head, Ugg boots went with anything, lot of sweat pants and sweat shirts. Looking at it now, though, it is pretty ridiculous. Running shorts must be like the new cotton Soffes, which is fine. What is not fine is that they are being paired with everything from boat shoes, to uggs, to rainboots, to these sporty and masculine looking strappy sandals that I had not seen before. I am by no means the guru on fashion, but these odd pairings are just that...odd.
Just went and put my coffee in a Life Net Medical Services mug. Something my brother received at a training conference during his time as a Critical Care Nurse. Sometimes I search for this mug, digging it out from a place in the back of the cabinet; it reminds me of all the other little funny things he would bring me from work like an obnoxious amount of ballpoint pens or pen lights, one produced from his pocket each time I saw him. These things meant something to me because in a weird way it meant that he was thinking about me. I still remember when I started nursing school and he came to my work with a bag for me. I opened it and it had essentials like a clip board with a calculator, pens, sticky notes, etc. I looked at him with tears in my eyes, and he stared back at me like, "please this is a far cry from a situation that requires such emotional behavior". I could just tell that he was excited for me and had taken the time to specifically pick some things out that he thought would be helpful and useful. So, that is why I dig for the mug. I dig for the mug because it is comforting and it reminds me of that quirky relationship we have with layers and layers of humor, beneath it lying a strong and unspoken bond.
I don't think I ever had the opportunity to blog about the roasted heads of garlic that I made for a recipe. The recipe itself was not that spectacular, but the garlic turned out to be amazing. It is really much more simple than I imagined it would be (so are many of the great mysteries in cooking). If you visit this website http://simplyrecipes.com/recipes/roasted_garlic you can get the recipe for yourself and enjoy. If you love garlic, you will love the way this whole process makes your house smell. It is glorious. The website also recommends some great ways to use the garlic such as spreading it over warm french bread or mixing with sour cream for a topping on baked potatoes. Yum.
Blogging has been secondary to a lot of other things I have been doing lately. I learned from briefly reading "The Pioneer Woman's" blog that you should nurture and water your blog daily just like you would a house plant. My house plant would be crispy and brown by now. Let me tell you the kinds of things I have been experiencing that have kept me away. I was at a clinic last week, sitting by myself, when a prospective customer came into view. He walked over to my table and asked, "Is this where I can get my rabies shot?" Wow, did it take self control to respond to that one. It just smacked me upside the head with unexpectedness. Then, bam, without time to recuperate, this woman wheels her cart up, parks it in front of my table, and begins trying on sweatshirts, asking my opinion. She lays her hangers down on the table top. Guess I wasn't really using it anyway. She also insists that I examine the two shirts she has tried on that say they are the same size, but could not possibly be. Labels are folded out so that I can verify, shirts are held up together at the same time so I can experience a baffling visual of the difference in size. During that week I also served as translator on a cell phone, dressing room director, and got asked several times where the Halloween items were located.
One thing I did enjoy about being so still and observant was looking at what people were buying. I particularly liked the baby doll in the older gentleman's cart. He looked so sweet and so patient. It reminded me of the things that my grandfather would buy for me. He volunteered at the hospital for years and would often bring me things from the gift shop. I still have this Ty brand bear, dressed in a clown suit that he gave me. I was probably too old for it at the time, but I loved it and have kept it all these years. It wasn't what he bought me, it was that he thought of me. I could just imagine him standing in there wondering what in the world a young girl would think was a neat gift. I have noticed that older people have a tendency to pick gifts reminiscent of their generation. This fresh perspective has the potential to introduce us to part of their past as well as giving us something new to try or experience. Yesterday, my dad and step mom and I were discussing some of the stories my grandfather used to tell. One of my personal favorites was about when he quit smoking. During this time he took the cash he usually spent on cigarettes, and stashed it in the top of the hall closet. He said week after week and month after month it collected, until eventually he opened the door and money just cascaded out around him, hundreds and hundreds of bills. He was a bit of an exaggerator.
One last thing about Walmart. Sitting there, I had the opportunity to see several female college students and observe how they were dressed. I remember those times, hair in a large knot on top of the head, Ugg boots went with anything, lot of sweat pants and sweat shirts. Looking at it now, though, it is pretty ridiculous. Running shorts must be like the new cotton Soffes, which is fine. What is not fine is that they are being paired with everything from boat shoes, to uggs, to rainboots, to these sporty and masculine looking strappy sandals that I had not seen before. I am by no means the guru on fashion, but these odd pairings are just that...odd.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Take a Little Trip
Next to me on the nightstand is a collection of sorts. A half eaten Milky Way, a partial cup of old coffee from breakfast, a plastic water bottle with a quarter remainder of water, an apple, and a pile of books with one of my favorite magazines. It is 11 AM and I have not showered. I rolled out of bed at 8:15 to throw on some clothes and get a bite to eat before they started putting away the continental breakfast. This is not really a typical representation of the way I conduct myself.
I am computer-less and therefore journaling in a traditional way, pen to paper. Thinking it might be nice to peel myself away from the cable TV, I turned to the back pages of my planner and here I am. This feels like a total day of indulgence without an agenda, and a television full of programs that we no longer have at home. I am even considering going back to sleep after I write this.
My location is Marietta, GA, and I came here for a variety of reasons, all which involve an element of fun. Wednesday I woke up, taught my 5:10 AM yoga class, showered, packed, went to work, purchased a house warming gift, and drove to Acworth, GA for a brief stay with my good friend Anna, from nursing school, and her husband. I had not visited her house before this and it was surreal. Last time we hung out we were both in Missouri with very different lives. We spent weekends in her college apartment with our friend and her roommate Nikki. We were unmarried and overstressed with the burden of a nursing school schedule. But here I was now, in the south, in her house, with her husband, and all of the time has passed so quickly.
Thursday morning I woke up again to see what I refer to as "ridiculous hours of the day", to battle five lanes of congested Atlanta city highway traffic. I could envision the ends of my nerves unfraying as I was mushed between semis and trapped at a standstill with cars with blinker signals cutting in front of me, just barely enough room to avoid rubbing metal to metal. I was trying to make it on time to a place I had never been for a yoga conference. Knowing that a time or two the GPS had led me astray, I was praying for accuracy that morning.
As if the early morning hours were not a large enough source of irritation, I arrived at the conference location to discover that the parking for the day would be $15. I begrudgingly pressed the button for my ticket, imagining my true rebel wish where I just ram through the mechanical arm with my car, coming into fruition. With a very conservative exterior, I instead took my ticket and politely drove through, maintaining the safe and courteous speed limit.
I love yoga, learning about it, sharing it, meeting others who love it, so the fact that I enjoyed the conference really is unnecessary to say. It was in a beautiful Hilton Hotel with spacious conference rooms for the different workshops. The master trainer was a true inspiration with her smorgasbord of a resume including hula dancer, Licensed Massage Therapist, ballroom dancer, and degree in kinesiology (it makes my own multi-interest life seem less irrational). Anyway, I learned many new ways of using props and modifications to be able to bring yoga to a greater range of age groups.
My favorite part really came at the end of the day when I left the parking lot. A line of cars began accumulating at the toll booth. After a few moments it became evident that one thing or another was malfunctioning. The woman at the front of the line stepped out of her car and started pressing buttons. With one hand on her hip and the other on her forehead, she scanned the lot looking for solutions. The arm was not moving, it would not let her car pass. In a few minutes, an employee arrived to provide assistance. After pushing and prodding the system, he could find no other solution to, wait for it...REMOVE THE METAL ARM FROM ITS BASE! In shock I smiled, eternally grateful that my $20 remained in my lap as I passed him, smiling and waving like a fool in a parade. Ha, I said to that rail. Ha, I thought to that hotel and their crazy expensive parking rates.
Driving to my hotel that night, I encountered more traffic. Exhausted and hungry, I had little reserve left for kindness. The person at the check in desk refused to let me have the room we had reserved under my friend's name, as she and two other friends would join me the next night. After arranging that bunch of junk, she handed me a key, room 120, and gave me verbal directions. Following these directions, I pulled around to the breezeway and parked, all odd numbers on the doorways. Ick. I looped around the building, cursing my own inability to solve the mystery of the missing even numbered rooms. Back up to the counter, I tell her I can't figure it out. She shows me a map. Ah, yes, the bit about how the even rooms are on the interior side of the building would have been nice, thanks.
The saving grace of the night was a Cracker Barrel, right next door to the hotel. Eating at a home style chain away from home always does something good for me. I had never eaten at a restaurant by myself, but at this point had almost lost sight of caring. They sat me at a corner table, next to a window, with my own kerosene lamp lit, shedding a soft glow of light onto the nighttime view. The gift shop entrance had been warm and welcoming, decorated with fall and Christmas items. I ordered the usual, hot chocolate and eggs-in-the-basket, over hard with turkey sausage (always a treat with a pork allergy) and that oh-so-comforting cheesy hash brown casserole. Feeling full and more composed, I shopped around the Cracker Barrel store, smelling the candles, playing with the toys, enjoying the company and presence of strangers.
I am computer-less and therefore journaling in a traditional way, pen to paper. Thinking it might be nice to peel myself away from the cable TV, I turned to the back pages of my planner and here I am. This feels like a total day of indulgence without an agenda, and a television full of programs that we no longer have at home. I am even considering going back to sleep after I write this.
My location is Marietta, GA, and I came here for a variety of reasons, all which involve an element of fun. Wednesday I woke up, taught my 5:10 AM yoga class, showered, packed, went to work, purchased a house warming gift, and drove to Acworth, GA for a brief stay with my good friend Anna, from nursing school, and her husband. I had not visited her house before this and it was surreal. Last time we hung out we were both in Missouri with very different lives. We spent weekends in her college apartment with our friend and her roommate Nikki. We were unmarried and overstressed with the burden of a nursing school schedule. But here I was now, in the south, in her house, with her husband, and all of the time has passed so quickly.
Thursday morning I woke up again to see what I refer to as "ridiculous hours of the day", to battle five lanes of congested Atlanta city highway traffic. I could envision the ends of my nerves unfraying as I was mushed between semis and trapped at a standstill with cars with blinker signals cutting in front of me, just barely enough room to avoid rubbing metal to metal. I was trying to make it on time to a place I had never been for a yoga conference. Knowing that a time or two the GPS had led me astray, I was praying for accuracy that morning.
As if the early morning hours were not a large enough source of irritation, I arrived at the conference location to discover that the parking for the day would be $15. I begrudgingly pressed the button for my ticket, imagining my true rebel wish where I just ram through the mechanical arm with my car, coming into fruition. With a very conservative exterior, I instead took my ticket and politely drove through, maintaining the safe and courteous speed limit.
I love yoga, learning about it, sharing it, meeting others who love it, so the fact that I enjoyed the conference really is unnecessary to say. It was in a beautiful Hilton Hotel with spacious conference rooms for the different workshops. The master trainer was a true inspiration with her smorgasbord of a resume including hula dancer, Licensed Massage Therapist, ballroom dancer, and degree in kinesiology (it makes my own multi-interest life seem less irrational). Anyway, I learned many new ways of using props and modifications to be able to bring yoga to a greater range of age groups.
My favorite part really came at the end of the day when I left the parking lot. A line of cars began accumulating at the toll booth. After a few moments it became evident that one thing or another was malfunctioning. The woman at the front of the line stepped out of her car and started pressing buttons. With one hand on her hip and the other on her forehead, she scanned the lot looking for solutions. The arm was not moving, it would not let her car pass. In a few minutes, an employee arrived to provide assistance. After pushing and prodding the system, he could find no other solution to, wait for it...REMOVE THE METAL ARM FROM ITS BASE! In shock I smiled, eternally grateful that my $20 remained in my lap as I passed him, smiling and waving like a fool in a parade. Ha, I said to that rail. Ha, I thought to that hotel and their crazy expensive parking rates.
Driving to my hotel that night, I encountered more traffic. Exhausted and hungry, I had little reserve left for kindness. The person at the check in desk refused to let me have the room we had reserved under my friend's name, as she and two other friends would join me the next night. After arranging that bunch of junk, she handed me a key, room 120, and gave me verbal directions. Following these directions, I pulled around to the breezeway and parked, all odd numbers on the doorways. Ick. I looped around the building, cursing my own inability to solve the mystery of the missing even numbered rooms. Back up to the counter, I tell her I can't figure it out. She shows me a map. Ah, yes, the bit about how the even rooms are on the interior side of the building would have been nice, thanks.
The saving grace of the night was a Cracker Barrel, right next door to the hotel. Eating at a home style chain away from home always does something good for me. I had never eaten at a restaurant by myself, but at this point had almost lost sight of caring. They sat me at a corner table, next to a window, with my own kerosene lamp lit, shedding a soft glow of light onto the nighttime view. The gift shop entrance had been warm and welcoming, decorated with fall and Christmas items. I ordered the usual, hot chocolate and eggs-in-the-basket, over hard with turkey sausage (always a treat with a pork allergy) and that oh-so-comforting cheesy hash brown casserole. Feeling full and more composed, I shopped around the Cracker Barrel store, smelling the candles, playing with the toys, enjoying the company and presence of strangers.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Inspired
The first time I put ads on my blog I found they were advertising things like products for refinishing furniture, cooking websites, and local furniture stores. Today, I log on, and the first advertisement I see is for ADHD medication. Seeing as though the other ads were topic related to my blogs, has the blog decided to acknowledge the fact that I am so all over the place, I might have ADHD? I don't know. I do know that when my grandmother came to stay with me this summer she labeled me as hyperactive. I think all around we might be on to something here. My mother told me that as a small child I was "busy". Busy, of course meaning bad. Also meaning hyperactive. I like to refer to it as well-rounded and productive.
Watching the news this morning I heard the local newscaster announce that she had been keeping her windows and sliding glass doors open at night because of the cooler weather. This just didn't seem like the best thing to me to announce on public television. I often feel at home here watching the news because they are about on the same page as KQ2.
I am feeling alive and awake here this morning due to the caffeine and beginning the day with a yoga class. When I wake up at 4:30 A.M. I think to myself, "What is going on here? I really hate seeing this time of day". When I get to the gym and my students show up, I am not only feeling optimistic but also enthusiastic. I cannot believe that other people would willingly join me at that time of morning. It is so refreshing and inspiring. I truly love to teach and adore the thought of helping other people relax and appreciate themselves and their abilities, right where they are. The concept of letting go of competition and feeling challenged yet successful is revitalizing. I am continually blessed to be able to teach.
One of the things I love most about coming home at that time in the morning is the coffee pot. I try to set it the night before so that when I walk through the door I can smell it and feel like someone just did something really thoughtful for me. I am, however, drinking my coffee through a straw this morning in response to a comment from my dear, sweet husband. He doesn't really like the idea of coffee anyway, so I think he finds little moments to put negative thoughts about it in my head. We went to the beach this weekend and in the car he turns to a smiling me and pauses, fixes his gaze on my teeth. Maybe being somewhat self-centered I think to myself, "Okay, prepare for the compliment, you have beautiful teeth". Instead Jacob asks me if I brushed them this morning. I said, that was a gross question, of course I did. He followed it up with a, "Well, they just look kind of yellow today, maybe it's from all of the coffee". We of course exchanged several phrases after these comments, and today I am drinking my coffee through a straw.
The last thing I really wanted to comment on was a book I just read called "Angela's Ashes" by Frank McCourt. It was full of beautiful detail, a gripping memoir that won the Pulitzer Prize. His living conditions at various points in his life in Ireland are less than optimal, usually bordering on dismal. His father is an alcoholic that drinks away what little assistance they receive from the government. At one point, they are even ripping up floor boards for firewood for warmth in their tiny apartment. The lavatory for the entire street is right outside their kitchen windows. Again and again, he is rejected for respected positions in his town such as altar boy because of his economic status. Close family members even ridicule him, never forgetting to remind him that he is no better than his drunken father. He does not lose sight of his goal. He is resourceful, he supports his family the moment he is allowed to go to work.
There are so many other wonderful things to say about this book. It is just remarkable the circumstances he is exposed to and the level of responsibility that is placed on him, even as a small child. What touched me the most was the reminder that having a full belly and decent bed to sleep on is a luxury. So far removed from true poverty, many of us are in pursuit of items that are far beyond the title of basic necessity. I know that personally at times I have felt sorry for myself not being able to afford a certain brand or buy an extra TV or piece of furniture for the house. The reminder that this reality is so different from the reality that many many others in the world are facing was necessary for me. This book presents the concept of resilience from a circumstance that is probably unimaginable or unthought of from most American's perspectives. It was a struggle and a joy to read.
Let's go out into the world today and live and appreciate.
Watching the news this morning I heard the local newscaster announce that she had been keeping her windows and sliding glass doors open at night because of the cooler weather. This just didn't seem like the best thing to me to announce on public television. I often feel at home here watching the news because they are about on the same page as KQ2.
I am feeling alive and awake here this morning due to the caffeine and beginning the day with a yoga class. When I wake up at 4:30 A.M. I think to myself, "What is going on here? I really hate seeing this time of day". When I get to the gym and my students show up, I am not only feeling optimistic but also enthusiastic. I cannot believe that other people would willingly join me at that time of morning. It is so refreshing and inspiring. I truly love to teach and adore the thought of helping other people relax and appreciate themselves and their abilities, right where they are. The concept of letting go of competition and feeling challenged yet successful is revitalizing. I am continually blessed to be able to teach.
One of the things I love most about coming home at that time in the morning is the coffee pot. I try to set it the night before so that when I walk through the door I can smell it and feel like someone just did something really thoughtful for me. I am, however, drinking my coffee through a straw this morning in response to a comment from my dear, sweet husband. He doesn't really like the idea of coffee anyway, so I think he finds little moments to put negative thoughts about it in my head. We went to the beach this weekend and in the car he turns to a smiling me and pauses, fixes his gaze on my teeth. Maybe being somewhat self-centered I think to myself, "Okay, prepare for the compliment, you have beautiful teeth". Instead Jacob asks me if I brushed them this morning. I said, that was a gross question, of course I did. He followed it up with a, "Well, they just look kind of yellow today, maybe it's from all of the coffee". We of course exchanged several phrases after these comments, and today I am drinking my coffee through a straw.
The last thing I really wanted to comment on was a book I just read called "Angela's Ashes" by Frank McCourt. It was full of beautiful detail, a gripping memoir that won the Pulitzer Prize. His living conditions at various points in his life in Ireland are less than optimal, usually bordering on dismal. His father is an alcoholic that drinks away what little assistance they receive from the government. At one point, they are even ripping up floor boards for firewood for warmth in their tiny apartment. The lavatory for the entire street is right outside their kitchen windows. Again and again, he is rejected for respected positions in his town such as altar boy because of his economic status. Close family members even ridicule him, never forgetting to remind him that he is no better than his drunken father. He does not lose sight of his goal. He is resourceful, he supports his family the moment he is allowed to go to work.
There are so many other wonderful things to say about this book. It is just remarkable the circumstances he is exposed to and the level of responsibility that is placed on him, even as a small child. What touched me the most was the reminder that having a full belly and decent bed to sleep on is a luxury. So far removed from true poverty, many of us are in pursuit of items that are far beyond the title of basic necessity. I know that personally at times I have felt sorry for myself not being able to afford a certain brand or buy an extra TV or piece of furniture for the house. The reminder that this reality is so different from the reality that many many others in the world are facing was necessary for me. This book presents the concept of resilience from a circumstance that is probably unimaginable or unthought of from most American's perspectives. It was a struggle and a joy to read.
Let's go out into the world today and live and appreciate.
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