Cleveland rocks. So do I.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
A Very Sporty January Weekend
Nick and I have been busy as usual. We trotted down to the Columbus area this Saturday to watch our cousin, Sue Borchers, coach her Varsity girls basketball team in Granville. We met up with family and had a great time in the stands sitting together. Bill Borchers had a very healthy processed cheese and oversalted tortilla chip snack while Tim, Kelly's hub, chopped down a questionable looking Reesie cup. With eating habits like that, you'd wonder how Sue manages such a wondrously athletic and successful life.
Sue Borchers coaching her Aces
Nick and I left immediately after the game to head back to Cleveland for my Christmas present - tickets to the US Figure skating Championship! It was freaking cool as all get out. I'd never been to anything like this before and I was moderately excited. But then once you saw the skaters, the amazement went to a whole other level.
As you can imagine, Nick and I have a combined knowledge score of ZERO when it comes to figure skating. Although, I do follow it when it's on, I have a working and basic intelligence of different jumps, technical elements, and a general Who's Who among the stars.
The top 25 or so skaters are separated into 4 groups with the lowest scorers going first. These skaters are grand and wonderful but when they fell, fell flat on their stomachs, sprawling in ungraceful splats on the ice and causing big a OOOHHHHHHHH from the crowd. They were allowed five minute warm-ups and it was so neat to watch them practice.
AND THEN the top 10 were on. The difference between groups CANNOT BE STRESSED IN A BLOG. It is drastic, to put it mildly. Even the difference between the top 4 skaters is so radical from the top 6-10 spots. The first difference is the SPEED of the skaters. The top 5 or so skate at a speed that makes me wonder if they are all on crack, or some version of crack for figure skaters. They are so much faster than the other skaters, it's unbelieveable. When they fall, it STILL looks graceful. And I cannot imagine how controlled and strong they have to be to get up and keep going with the world watching them.
The winner was a student from Bowling Green! GO OHIO!
Nick and picked our favorites and they changed every 20 minutes or so. (We have no loyalties...) and when we became snobby enough to criticize and offer feedback after a performance, it was in the sophisticated manner of, "Can you believe she fell twice? Get it together, girl!" Or Nick's in depth analysis, "Is it just me, or did she just seem kinda tired?"
Regardless, it was a magnificent gift. I suggest that, someday, you attend an event that you normally would not get tickets to, but you like watching on television. Seeing it in person brings it to a whole other level.
Not Sue Borchers
Sue Borchers coaching her Aces
Nick and I left immediately after the game to head back to Cleveland for my Christmas present - tickets to the US Figure skating Championship! It was freaking cool as all get out. I'd never been to anything like this before and I was moderately excited. But then once you saw the skaters, the amazement went to a whole other level.
As you can imagine, Nick and I have a combined knowledge score of ZERO when it comes to figure skating. Although, I do follow it when it's on, I have a working and basic intelligence of different jumps, technical elements, and a general Who's Who among the stars.
The top 25 or so skaters are separated into 4 groups with the lowest scorers going first. These skaters are grand and wonderful but when they fell, fell flat on their stomachs, sprawling in ungraceful splats on the ice and causing big a OOOHHHHHHHH from the crowd. They were allowed five minute warm-ups and it was so neat to watch them practice.
AND THEN the top 10 were on. The difference between groups CANNOT BE STRESSED IN A BLOG. It is drastic, to put it mildly. Even the difference between the top 4 skaters is so radical from the top 6-10 spots. The first difference is the SPEED of the skaters. The top 5 or so skate at a speed that makes me wonder if they are all on crack, or some version of crack for figure skaters. They are so much faster than the other skaters, it's unbelieveable. When they fall, it STILL looks graceful. And I cannot imagine how controlled and strong they have to be to get up and keep going with the world watching them.
The winner was a student from Bowling Green! GO OHIO!
Nick and picked our favorites and they changed every 20 minutes or so. (We have no loyalties...) and when we became snobby enough to criticize and offer feedback after a performance, it was in the sophisticated manner of, "Can you believe she fell twice? Get it together, girl!" Or Nick's in depth analysis, "Is it just me, or did she just seem kinda tired?"
Regardless, it was a magnificent gift. I suggest that, someday, you attend an event that you normally would not get tickets to, but you like watching on television. Seeing it in person brings it to a whole other level.
Not Sue Borchers
Monday, January 19, 2009
What IS It about Old Pictures...
that makes you want to bawl your face out?
I mean, I lead a perfectly content, challenged, intellectually stimulated and emotionally satisfying existence with the love of my life, a great family, and more blessings than I can keep track of...
So, why is it, when I glimpse a photo of childhood, I find my hand drifting toward a roll of toilet paper to gently dry my flooding cheeks?
Is it the nostalgia? The lost innocence? Realization of age? Sweet memories? I mean, I'm sure life was great right before I turned six years old, but I think it's radically better now that I:
1) Do not share a bathroom with my siblings
2) Drive
3) Prepare whatever I want for meals
4) DO NOT SIT THROUGH PHONICS CLASSES AND BAND PRACTICE
5) Live the way I want to live, skip what I don't like, watch whatever I please on TV
....
AND
...
(as I often reference to Nick)
Live the part of our lives we've been waiting for; ever since our parents used to say, "You can do that when you're older," "you can do whatever you like someday but right now..."
I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT INCLUDING WRITING A BLOG ABOUT HOW I LOVE BEING ABLE TO DO WHATEVER I WANT.
So, why the tears?
I have no clue. I look at that stupid bowl-shaped haircut and remember getting trounced by my brothers, tagging along at the heels of my sister, and never getting what I wanted because I was the youngest and had to wait my turn for everything.
But, any picture of childhood has a mysterious power to send me into a sniffling state of brokenness.
::sniffle::
Sunday, January 18, 2009
The Yes List
January is always a month geared toward self-improvement and in the tradition of setting goals, I decided that I am going to make a YES list. Specific things that I can and will do to make the planet a better place and to simplify our busy lives so we can spend time on the things that truly matter to us. Instead of calling it a TO DO list, I have renamed it The Yes List.
- have Nick post something on our blog once every two months
- load the dishwasher immediately
- send at least a bag of clothes to the Salvation Army every six months
- attend a funeral for whom there will be an expected low attendance
- pray more often
- run more often
- balance out my intake of Propel water with regular tap water
- turn off the porch light each night
- send more handwritten letters
- RSVP to events
- return feedback surveys
- finish our wedding album, give prints to parents & grandparents before 5th anniversary
- write more, blog less
- stop being so hard on the wrong people
- ask the right people to be more accountable
- curb Panera Bread visits
- smile at strangers when I walk in public even if I look psycho
- use what I have, limit what I want, pray for what I need
Saturday, January 17, 2009
The Radiators
Our house is throwing a tantrum.
About a week ago, Nick and I woke up to a cold house and cool radiators.
Sometime in the middle of the night, the boiler decides to shut down.
Terrific.
AND
We woke up early to take our car in because the check engine light turned on.
Double YAY.
So, we drop off the car, and then walk back around 7:45am in the dark to our house. On the way we talk about really bright subjects like our cold house and the fact we're leaving on a trip tomorrow and we need to get it fixed because our pipes may freeze and we really then have screwed ourselves over and all this will happen when we're in Pennsylvania. The sidewalks are ice and the morning refuses to look promising.
Nick skates off to work and I warm my head in a hat and dial the home insurance people with freezing fingers. I'm sure you remember our garbage disposal debacle - where we had to pay $75 after the guy found the RECHARGE button under our sink - and today was another glorious episode.
After Mr. Fixit comes in and does a lot of mhm and hmmmmmmmm and "weellllll" with a flashlight in his mouth, Nick (who came home) and I were pacing the basement and praying he didn't say, "You need a new boiler."
I go upstairs and nervously eat my feelings. The rice krispie treat laying on a plate becomes my victim. While I'm munching on sugar at 9:30am, I hear a sharp and not happy laugh come from the basement.
I hop down the stairs and Mr. Fixit asks me, "What'd you do?"
Confused, I almost blurted out that I ate my feelings with a rice krispie treat but then Nick interjects, "It just turned on. Did you do anything upstairs?"
Other than eat a treat?
"Are you serious?"
"It just turned on and he can't find anything wrong with it." Nick and I stare at each other. My temper is flaring as the boiler is spitting itself alive with heat expanding through our house.
I am so pissed, stunned, and relieved that I stomp up the stairs while Nick calls out, "Can you make the check out?"
Another $75. I am absurdly angry.
Then the boiler kicks off again and thus began a three hour visit from Mr. Fixit. Nick takes him all around the house to all the different radiators and when he walks up to our chilly 3rd floor, he gets down on his hands and knees to inspect the thing, and I shit you not, gives the radiator mouth to mouth.
I almost burst out laughing. Instead, I excused myself and got myself together in another room and then wandered back into the room. He was still blowing air from his mouth into the radiator. Apparently this is an old method for starting it up again.
Well, whatever, it started!
And then he proceeded to give mouth to mouth to many other dead radiators who jumped back to life after some human interaction.
Our third floor is like a toasty little oven. I have called it our new apartment because we made it our TV room/weekend getaway/cottage. It's big and has its own full bathroom. Why use the rest of the house? It's so warm and we've never gone up there so it feels all brand new to us.
Now that the radiators are in full blast, they wheeze and blow up a storm when they're hard at work. So, the other night when the radiator in our bedroom went head to head with a -20 degree night, I woke up and had to PUT EARPLUGS in to drown out all the racket.
Ahhh, but our third floor is our safe haven right now against the brutal assault of winter.
And then the check engine light came on again in our car.
Sometimes, I really hate being an adult.
About a week ago, Nick and I woke up to a cold house and cool radiators.
Sometime in the middle of the night, the boiler decides to shut down.
Terrific.
AND
We woke up early to take our car in because the check engine light turned on.
Double YAY.
So, we drop off the car, and then walk back around 7:45am in the dark to our house. On the way we talk about really bright subjects like our cold house and the fact we're leaving on a trip tomorrow and we need to get it fixed because our pipes may freeze and we really then have screwed ourselves over and all this will happen when we're in Pennsylvania. The sidewalks are ice and the morning refuses to look promising.
Nick skates off to work and I warm my head in a hat and dial the home insurance people with freezing fingers. I'm sure you remember our garbage disposal debacle - where we had to pay $75 after the guy found the RECHARGE button under our sink - and today was another glorious episode.
After Mr. Fixit comes in and does a lot of mhm and hmmmmmmmm and "weellllll" with a flashlight in his mouth, Nick (who came home) and I were pacing the basement and praying he didn't say, "You need a new boiler."
I go upstairs and nervously eat my feelings. The rice krispie treat laying on a plate becomes my victim. While I'm munching on sugar at 9:30am, I hear a sharp and not happy laugh come from the basement.
I hop down the stairs and Mr. Fixit asks me, "What'd you do?"
Confused, I almost blurted out that I ate my feelings with a rice krispie treat but then Nick interjects, "It just turned on. Did you do anything upstairs?"
Other than eat a treat?
"Are you serious?"
"It just turned on and he can't find anything wrong with it." Nick and I stare at each other. My temper is flaring as the boiler is spitting itself alive with heat expanding through our house.
I am so pissed, stunned, and relieved that I stomp up the stairs while Nick calls out, "Can you make the check out?"
Another $75. I am absurdly angry.
Then the boiler kicks off again and thus began a three hour visit from Mr. Fixit. Nick takes him all around the house to all the different radiators and when he walks up to our chilly 3rd floor, he gets down on his hands and knees to inspect the thing, and I shit you not, gives the radiator mouth to mouth.
I almost burst out laughing. Instead, I excused myself and got myself together in another room and then wandered back into the room. He was still blowing air from his mouth into the radiator. Apparently this is an old method for starting it up again.
Well, whatever, it started!
And then he proceeded to give mouth to mouth to many other dead radiators who jumped back to life after some human interaction.
Our third floor is like a toasty little oven. I have called it our new apartment because we made it our TV room/weekend getaway/cottage. It's big and has its own full bathroom. Why use the rest of the house? It's so warm and we've never gone up there so it feels all brand new to us.
Now that the radiators are in full blast, they wheeze and blow up a storm when they're hard at work. So, the other night when the radiator in our bedroom went head to head with a -20 degree night, I woke up and had to PUT EARPLUGS in to drown out all the racket.
Ahhh, but our third floor is our safe haven right now against the brutal assault of winter.
And then the check engine light came on again in our car.
Sometimes, I really hate being an adult.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
We Fell
There's no story, just a lot of funny instances I forgot to mention.
1) When we were loading up the car to go on our trip to Schellsburg, PA, Nick was walking behind me and as we approached the car, I heard him yelp a bit. I turned and yelped, "OHHHHH!" as I watched him slip and get balance and them slip again on the snow. It was in slow motion, but in classic movie style, he legs went out from underneath him. In the process of his legs flipping out from under him, he kicked me squarely in the gut and I hunched over with a moan while he landed on his back. And while he struggled to get up, I clutched my recently operated stomach and moaned loudly in pain for both of us.
If our neighbors were watching, they got a good 4 second entertainment show.
2) About 28 hours later, Nick and I are playing Tripoly with Vanessa and Tom. Vanessa, asks me to reach down and grab her sweatshirt, or something, off the floor and pass to her. I reach down and lose my balance, so I try to grab onto the table for steadiness. This is when I realize THE TABLE IS ON WHEELS and provides no stability and only further adds to my off balanced state.
I fall 1.5 feet to the ground. Vanessa said my scream sounded like I was falling from a skyscraper. Get this - in the process of that small fall - I PULLED A CALF MUSCLE FROM STRAINING TO HOLD ONTO THE WHEELING TABLE.
I hobbled for the next two days because of that little stunt.
Fully recovered today.
My friends, when you pull a calf muscle after falling off a chair, that is what you call PATHETIC.
1) When we were loading up the car to go on our trip to Schellsburg, PA, Nick was walking behind me and as we approached the car, I heard him yelp a bit. I turned and yelped, "OHHHHH!" as I watched him slip and get balance and them slip again on the snow. It was in slow motion, but in classic movie style, he legs went out from underneath him. In the process of his legs flipping out from under him, he kicked me squarely in the gut and I hunched over with a moan while he landed on his back. And while he struggled to get up, I clutched my recently operated stomach and moaned loudly in pain for both of us.
If our neighbors were watching, they got a good 4 second entertainment show.
2) About 28 hours later, Nick and I are playing Tripoly with Vanessa and Tom. Vanessa, asks me to reach down and grab her sweatshirt, or something, off the floor and pass to her. I reach down and lose my balance, so I try to grab onto the table for steadiness. This is when I realize THE TABLE IS ON WHEELS and provides no stability and only further adds to my off balanced state.
I fall 1.5 feet to the ground. Vanessa said my scream sounded like I was falling from a skyscraper. Get this - in the process of that small fall - I PULLED A CALF MUSCLE FROM STRAINING TO HOLD ONTO THE WHEELING TABLE.
I hobbled for the next two days because of that little stunt.
Fully recovered today.
My friends, when you pull a calf muscle after falling off a chair, that is what you call PATHETIC.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Schellsburg, Pennsylvania
As some of you may recall, Nick and I often go on trips with our awesome friends Vanessa Lombardo and Tom Ball, recently married and even more recently prego. (Due date - July 09)
The halfway point between New Jersey and Ohio, respectively, is Schellsburg, PA. So, we packed up, drove halfway, and stayed last Thursday - Saturday in a lovely and charming old country house in the...well, country. There's not much around in Schellsburg.
We arrived Thursday evening and immediately began on what we do best: talk and eat appetizers.
In addition to the great company and conversation, we took a trip to Gravity Hill.
I was so excited for this, I feel asleep in the car on the way there.
Apparently, on this "hill," if you put your car in neutral (read, it shouldn't go anywhere), your car defies gravity and begins rolling UP HILL.
(Inside joke for Tom and Vanessa) THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE.
Well, it's apparently possible.
While investigating Gravity Hill, a little miscommunication between Nick and I ended in a small ruffle. While I jumped out of the car and said, "I need to take a picture." Nick heard, "I want to take pictures."
He heard plural. I meant one. Usually, when I say I want to take pictures (plural) that means I need at least 15 minutes to snap a few good landscape shots. But I didn't want a lot, I just wanted one. Nick thought I said otherwise.
Leaving my jacket in the car, I hobbled out into the cold winds of the mountain and proceeded to take a picture of the pretty outdoors.
Then the car left.
With my sweatshirt on, I ignored them, thinking they were just joking and starting walking toward them.
Then the car takes off.
Not sure what to do, I stand in the middle of the road and notice a menacing looking dog galloping toward me and starts sniffing my legs, greedily wanting my bone marrow, I'm sure. This whole episode takes about 8 minutes resulting in me jumping back into the car when it returns and bursting into tears. I *hate* being out of control and cold.
Nick is apologetic. I am embarrassed.
We get over it and Tom buys us whoopie pies, which are basically Suzi-Q cakes on steroids with enough frosting to kill an army of kindergarteners.
So, the weekend continues with more chatter about Baby Lom-ball-do, Tripoly, and enchiladas.
On Saturday afternoon, Nick and I took off and headed right into the snow mess that was blanketing NE Ohio. Terrific.
Fifteen miles into our drive, we see signs for the Flight 93 Memorial from 9/11. Of course we stop and stay about 35 minutes to see what was there.
The pictures tell more than we ever could. We both got teary as we saw the pictures of the 40 passengers and heard their stories of love, courage, and final good-byes.
There is a plan to finish the memorial in 2011, the ten year anniversary of the attacks.
As we drove home, of course, I fell asleep and entrusted my life to Nick's driving capabilities.
After about five hours, we are unable to enter our driveway because the snow is too deep. We park in the street and dig out the shovels from the garage. As we begin working, Nick stops and says, "Wait, let's think about this."
I wait. "Ok. What are we thinking about?"
Nick looks at the house, "What direction does our house face?"
I have no idea what in the hell he is talking about, "I really have no clue. What do we need that for? Let's shovel."
Nick is looking around, "What direction is the wind blowing?"
"How should I know? The wind blows in all directions. I'm digging, no more questions."
He explains, "I'm just trying to figure out snow drifts and stuff."
I counter, "This I realize, but I don't feel like standing outside talking while we have a foot of snow burying our driveway."
We get to work.
About 40 minutes later, we run out of steam and only have about half of the driveway cleared.
Good enough for now.
Yeah, winter's here.
The halfway point between New Jersey and Ohio, respectively, is Schellsburg, PA. So, we packed up, drove halfway, and stayed last Thursday - Saturday in a lovely and charming old country house in the...well, country. There's not much around in Schellsburg.
We arrived Thursday evening and immediately began on what we do best: talk and eat appetizers.
In addition to the great company and conversation, we took a trip to Gravity Hill.
I was so excited for this, I feel asleep in the car on the way there.
Apparently, on this "hill," if you put your car in neutral (read, it shouldn't go anywhere), your car defies gravity and begins rolling UP HILL.
(Inside joke for Tom and Vanessa) THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE.
Well, it's apparently possible.
While investigating Gravity Hill, a little miscommunication between Nick and I ended in a small ruffle. While I jumped out of the car and said, "I need to take a picture." Nick heard, "I want to take pictures."
He heard plural. I meant one. Usually, when I say I want to take pictures (plural) that means I need at least 15 minutes to snap a few good landscape shots. But I didn't want a lot, I just wanted one. Nick thought I said otherwise.
Leaving my jacket in the car, I hobbled out into the cold winds of the mountain and proceeded to take a picture of the pretty outdoors.
Then the car left.
With my sweatshirt on, I ignored them, thinking they were just joking and starting walking toward them.
Then the car takes off.
Not sure what to do, I stand in the middle of the road and notice a menacing looking dog galloping toward me and starts sniffing my legs, greedily wanting my bone marrow, I'm sure. This whole episode takes about 8 minutes resulting in me jumping back into the car when it returns and bursting into tears. I *hate* being out of control and cold.
Nick is apologetic. I am embarrassed.
We get over it and Tom buys us whoopie pies, which are basically Suzi-Q cakes on steroids with enough frosting to kill an army of kindergarteners.
So, the weekend continues with more chatter about Baby Lom-ball-do, Tripoly, and enchiladas.
On Saturday afternoon, Nick and I took off and headed right into the snow mess that was blanketing NE Ohio. Terrific.
Fifteen miles into our drive, we see signs for the Flight 93 Memorial from 9/11. Of course we stop and stay about 35 minutes to see what was there.
The pictures tell more than we ever could. We both got teary as we saw the pictures of the 40 passengers and heard their stories of love, courage, and final good-byes.
There is a plan to finish the memorial in 2011, the ten year anniversary of the attacks.
As we drove home, of course, I fell asleep and entrusted my life to Nick's driving capabilities.
After about five hours, we are unable to enter our driveway because the snow is too deep. We park in the street and dig out the shovels from the garage. As we begin working, Nick stops and says, "Wait, let's think about this."
I wait. "Ok. What are we thinking about?"
Nick looks at the house, "What direction does our house face?"
I have no idea what in the hell he is talking about, "I really have no clue. What do we need that for? Let's shovel."
Nick is looking around, "What direction is the wind blowing?"
"How should I know? The wind blows in all directions. I'm digging, no more questions."
He explains, "I'm just trying to figure out snow drifts and stuff."
I counter, "This I realize, but I don't feel like standing outside talking while we have a foot of snow burying our driveway."
We get to work.
About 40 minutes later, we run out of steam and only have about half of the driveway cleared.
Good enough for now.
Yeah, winter's here.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Older, Maybe Wiser
Here are two Christmas pictures taken in Russia. One was last year and the other was this year. Other than the fact I am in the 2008 pictures, do you see any differences other than the gifts we're holding?
I guess we're slowly aging. That's good news.
I just hope we're wiser.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Self-Disclosure Day
For those familiar with email and all things internet, you know that once in a while, a little list floats around that asks you to tell everyone some facts about yourself. Since today I had a lot to accomplish and was looking for a way to procrastinate, I decided to participate in the 25 Facts About You, which has been circulating on Facebook. I have asked Nick for about 8 years to do one of these and the likelihood of him doing one is about the same chance of my coming home one day and seeing him knitting me a scarf.
Some things just aren't going to happen. Ever.
TWENTY FIVE FACTS ABOUT ME
25. I'm seriously afraid of what people think when I spend time on things like this.
24. Being a writer is the most difficult, painful, vulnerable, exhilarating gift imaginable. After love, of course.
23. My family is the root of all things.
22. I think people romanticize the green on the other side, the past, and the USA.
21. Living and traveling to other countries is the only way for me. I despise tourism.
20. I think most people, even on their best days, short-change themselves. Nelson Mandela said it best. We're most afraid of our brilliant potential.
19. I drive quite aggressively and am working on taming my frustration with Ohio drivers.
18. Some of my biggest fears are drowning, living in complacency, and losing touch with God.
17. Laughter is my thing. I believe in it, use it, always want more of it. It's magical.
16. I cannot explain in words how much I am against WalMart, Best Buy, and Nestle.
15. Nick is my gravity. Our story is one of my writing projects, but I'm not yet ready to share it with the world.
14. I spent 4 months of 2002 working on growing my patience when engaged in small talk with strangers.
13. I believe every person should live at least one year in a "developing" country. I think people will find that their hearts need more work than the nations do.
12. I own several hundred books. I've read 1 or 2 from cover to cover.
11. In the closet: competitive, perfectionist, linguist, freakishly astute memory
10. I take a deep breath when people misuse the word "literally" when they mean "really" or "actually." Example, on ESPN, the sports commentator said, "Yes, and they literally killed the other team on the scoreboard." NO! No one was killed! Do people not know what "literally" means?!
9. I love purple, scarlet, sage, light green, and turquoise.
8. When I hear Last Dance by Donna Summer, I feel like I have enough joy to share with the world.
7. Strawberries and vanilla any day of the week over chocolate.
6. I quit pretending that my birthday isn't a big deal to me. I celebrate the entire month of February. (No lie.)
5. I've had two surgeries in 9 years to remove ovarian tumors. Benign.
4. A few years ago, I spent $200 on ebay for the original My So-Called Life DVD set and never batted an eyelash. Jordan Catalano is, like, the highschool mythical god every female had in her teen life.
3. Oxygen is to swimmers as New York City is to Lisa.
2. I dream and think a lot about the things I love most: relationships, fresh bread, Seattle, dancing, singing, family reunions, 4th of July, the water, Strawberry Kiwi Propel, running, boxing, tennis, sports clothes, independent book stores, flying, being clean, touch football, simplicity, faith, retreats, cleaning my windshield, Greenwich Village, Gloria Anzaldua, and painting. I adore kissing.
1. My life goal is to be a Renaissance woman.
Some things just aren't going to happen. Ever.
TWENTY FIVE FACTS ABOUT ME
25. I'm seriously afraid of what people think when I spend time on things like this.
24. Being a writer is the most difficult, painful, vulnerable, exhilarating gift imaginable. After love, of course.
23. My family is the root of all things.
22. I think people romanticize the green on the other side, the past, and the USA.
21. Living and traveling to other countries is the only way for me. I despise tourism.
20. I think most people, even on their best days, short-change themselves. Nelson Mandela said it best. We're most afraid of our brilliant potential.
19. I drive quite aggressively and am working on taming my frustration with Ohio drivers.
18. Some of my biggest fears are drowning, living in complacency, and losing touch with God.
17. Laughter is my thing. I believe in it, use it, always want more of it. It's magical.
16. I cannot explain in words how much I am against WalMart, Best Buy, and Nestle.
15. Nick is my gravity. Our story is one of my writing projects, but I'm not yet ready to share it with the world.
14. I spent 4 months of 2002 working on growing my patience when engaged in small talk with strangers.
13. I believe every person should live at least one year in a "developing" country. I think people will find that their hearts need more work than the nations do.
12. I own several hundred books. I've read 1 or 2 from cover to cover.
11. In the closet: competitive, perfectionist, linguist, freakishly astute memory
10. I take a deep breath when people misuse the word "literally" when they mean "really" or "actually." Example, on ESPN, the sports commentator said, "Yes, and they literally killed the other team on the scoreboard." NO! No one was killed! Do people not know what "literally" means?!
9. I love purple, scarlet, sage, light green, and turquoise.
8. When I hear Last Dance by Donna Summer, I feel like I have enough joy to share with the world.
7. Strawberries and vanilla any day of the week over chocolate.
6. I quit pretending that my birthday isn't a big deal to me. I celebrate the entire month of February. (No lie.)
5. I've had two surgeries in 9 years to remove ovarian tumors. Benign.
4. A few years ago, I spent $200 on ebay for the original My So-Called Life DVD set and never batted an eyelash. Jordan Catalano is, like, the highschool mythical god every female had in her teen life.
3. Oxygen is to swimmers as New York City is to Lisa.
2. I dream and think a lot about the things I love most: relationships, fresh bread, Seattle, dancing, singing, family reunions, 4th of July, the water, Strawberry Kiwi Propel, running, boxing, tennis, sports clothes, independent book stores, flying, being clean, touch football, simplicity, faith, retreats, cleaning my windshield, Greenwich Village, Gloria Anzaldua, and painting. I adore kissing.
1. My life goal is to be a Renaissance woman.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
2009 is MY Time
For about six or seven years, I began making themes, not resolutions, for the new year. Themes must be well-researched, meaningful, and personal. Each year, I choose a theme that encompasses my overall goal or wishes for the upcoming new year. Here are a few to illustrate my point:
2000: Boom
Self-explanatory. Beginning a new millenium is a gi-normous deal and, back then, was as single as a dollar bill and intended to live out my college days in quite the explosive manner at Dana's (a dive bar on Montgomery Road in Cincinnati). Oh, how I did.
2001: Onward and Upward
Ahh yes, the XU graduating year. I was off to live in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps near Seattle and fleeing the midwest in search of my vocation and identity. I didn't realize that those are often life long journeys, but aimed my sights high and headed west.
la...la...la...
2007: Spectacular
All decisions had to have the high probability of this result.
2008: Faithfulness
Ye be not confused with fidelity! Faithfulness was about a vow to keep true to myself and to stay close to what I knew to be true: 1) All cars are made to be broken 2) God exists 3) You can't win the lottery unless you play
2009: Make 2009 Your Time
A few weeks ago, my left arm handcuffed to the couch (kidding, I was in surgery recovery period), I watched an absurd amount of television and movies. As my eyes began to glaze over and dry out yet again from the winter air, I perked to attention as I heard a commercial speak into my living room, "Don't you think it's your time? Make 2009 your time and quit smoking..."
My ear canals closed after the word "time" and I quickly dismissed the fact that it was a commercial to help people stop smoking and answered the first question, "Don't you think it's your time?"
YES! It IS my time!
Make 2009 your time.
I don't smoke and that's irrelevant. The larger point is that 2009 is going to be MY time. The time of unprecedented goals and unimagined success. It's all going to start this year, my friends.
I shared my new theme with Nick who is always up for hearing my new philosophies. "That's great, babe!" Which is the exact same response when I cook a new recipe, bring home a new box of Texas toast, paint a new abstract painting, share with him a freshly polished poem, clean off the coffee table, announce I'm finally ready to go somewhere, load the address into Moses (our GPS), remind him my birthday is coming up (2.27), inform him that I scored outrageously high on an informal internet IQ test, got a new job interview, or stapled a new calendar to our bulletin board in our office. Whatever I do, to Nick, it's "great!"
So, if you watch you televisions closely and hear an anti-smoking commercial, try and find the one where you hear someone tell you to, "make 2009 your time."
You'll see. It's empowering.
"It's great!"
2000: Boom
Self-explanatory. Beginning a new millenium is a gi-normous deal and, back then, was as single as a dollar bill and intended to live out my college days in quite the explosive manner at Dana's (a dive bar on Montgomery Road in Cincinnati). Oh, how I did.
2001: Onward and Upward
Ahh yes, the XU graduating year. I was off to live in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps near Seattle and fleeing the midwest in search of my vocation and identity. I didn't realize that those are often life long journeys, but aimed my sights high and headed west.
la...la...la...
2007: Spectacular
All decisions had to have the high probability of this result.
2008: Faithfulness
Ye be not confused with fidelity! Faithfulness was about a vow to keep true to myself and to stay close to what I knew to be true: 1) All cars are made to be broken 2) God exists 3) You can't win the lottery unless you play
2009: Make 2009 Your Time
A few weeks ago, my left arm handcuffed to the couch (kidding, I was in surgery recovery period), I watched an absurd amount of television and movies. As my eyes began to glaze over and dry out yet again from the winter air, I perked to attention as I heard a commercial speak into my living room, "Don't you think it's your time? Make 2009 your time and quit smoking..."
My ear canals closed after the word "time" and I quickly dismissed the fact that it was a commercial to help people stop smoking and answered the first question, "Don't you think it's your time?"
YES! It IS my time!
Make 2009 your time.
I don't smoke and that's irrelevant. The larger point is that 2009 is going to be MY time. The time of unprecedented goals and unimagined success. It's all going to start this year, my friends.
I shared my new theme with Nick who is always up for hearing my new philosophies. "That's great, babe!" Which is the exact same response when I cook a new recipe, bring home a new box of Texas toast, paint a new abstract painting, share with him a freshly polished poem, clean off the coffee table, announce I'm finally ready to go somewhere, load the address into Moses (our GPS), remind him my birthday is coming up (2.27), inform him that I scored outrageously high on an informal internet IQ test, got a new job interview, or stapled a new calendar to our bulletin board in our office. Whatever I do, to Nick, it's "great!"
So, if you watch you televisions closely and hear an anti-smoking commercial, try and find the one where you hear someone tell you to, "make 2009 your time."
You'll see. It's empowering.
"It's great!"
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