halloween's curse on the uga fan

So, I'm a Georgia fan.

And I just got home from Jacksonville, Florida.

Where Georgia lost to Florida.

Again.

All true fans of college teams live the reality of the best of times, and the worst of times.  It's just part of it.  And at Georgia, we've had some seriously above-average years as of late.  The 2000s have been good to us.

But the Georgia-Florida game.  Y'all.

The series over the last 127 who-knows-how-many years has been almost unbearable.  This is how we always look ...

Kind of hopeful, kind of please-let-us-win-just-once-ish.

I had such a good feeling this year.  My sibs and cousins and I were getting to go together for the first time in a lot of years.

And sure, UGA's having a down year ... but Florida's down, too! 

I won't relive the agony in detail, but suffice it to say it was a heartbreaker in overtime, after we staged a pretty fabulous comeback in the 4th quarter.

SO CLOSE.

And yet, so far away.

Thankfully my trip was not a total wash.  We had some quality family time. 

We continuously reminded ourselves that it could've been worse (it usually is), and that at least it was an exciting game (it usually isn't).

Oh, Halloween weekend, why must you forever curse the Bulldog nation?

the ugly-girl cry

Today I’m feeling so grateful for my sweet friends who sometimes can cry at the drop of a hat.  Although I can feel very sad, I don’t cry easily, so it’s good for me to expose myself to emotional transparency.

My friends whom I adore and learn so much from every day, their kind of emotional transparency can be the borderline basket case kind – weepy, tearful, and sometimes just downright ugly.  (And I use the terms “basket case” and “ugly” in love.)

I’m serious when I tell you that I so appreciate this trait in my friends.  God knew what He was doing when He assigned me the friends He has.  It’s good and healthy to see these raw emotions that manifest themselves in the ugly-girl cry.

Last night during Bible study, I set myself up, thinking something like this:

I haven’t had a good cry in a while.  And my girls are a little weepy tonight …

And then those stars aligned just right, and I had that good cry.  Hit me like a Mack truck.

In an instant it was clear that we were not at Bible study anymore; we were, in fact, at the Xtreme Emotions Extravaganza 2010 (I totally stole that term from one of my favorite criers, but it’s so, so accurate).  Fun times.

What about you?  When was your last ugly-girl cry?

falling apart

When my body starts to break down, it really breaks down!  Following my happy Tuesday last week, I managed to pull a lower back muscle on Wednesday that sent me into a world of misery this past week.

Now, I rarely stay home from work because I’m sick, but y’all, this one had me down for the count!

Today’s the first day I’ve not had a spasm, so I’ve turned a corner, praise God.  But here are some takeaways from being a total invalid this past week …

1. Real humility is calling your friend and asking her to come to your house and put your cute boots on for you, because you can’t do it yourself.
2. The power of muscle relaxers is vastly underrated.
3. My bed has been left unmade for six straight days.  Not okay.
4. They say that laughter is good medicine.  To be clear, it’s not good medicine for pulled back muscles.  I so miss a good laugh.
5. Time spent with my funny friends is not as funny when I can’t laugh.
6. You know that saying about how good friends pick you up when you’re feeling down?  Well, my good friends literally pick me up when I need help standing up from my chair.  Or, they pick up things I’ve dropped.  They love me.  They really, really love me.
7. Speaking of dropping things, it’s apparently a rule that when you can’t physically lean over to pick things up off the floor, you magically become a big klutz and drop everything.  Most ironic moment this week: watching my muscle relaxer fall to the floor.  Very funny, God.  Very funny.

Big shout-outs to my friends who’ve brought me meals, pulled me up out of chairs, carried stuff to my car, and just generally served me in real ways this past week.  Couldn’t have done it without ‘em!

happy (tues) days

Mr. Cunningham, the compassionate dad from Happy Days, passed away today.  The real life actor, that is.  Tom Bosley.  He was an outstanding TV dad.

And, on the heels (no pun intended) of Mrs. Cleaver’s passing yesterday, it’s been a bummer of a week for the world of classic TV.  Sigh.

In honor of Mr. C. and his Happy Days, here’s what made my Tuesday very, very happy ...

My bum knee was feeling better enough to at least want to try a very short run.  That feeling was good.

But alas, I got a better offer.

My good friend who shares my deep, deep affection for Dansko clogs invited me to “go look at some” with her, which in our code really means, “go buy another pair.”  And we did.  This is the second year in a row we’ve done this together, and it’s now been declared an official friendship tradition.  Long live the clog!

After that shoe purchase, some maybe-cute boots caught our eye in the Nine West window.  But, you know my problems with tall boots and fat calves, so I was skeptical.  Blast if these ones didn’t rock my little world!  And better yet, they were 30% off.  And she bought a pair, too, because who are we to pretend that calf-fitting boots on a significant sale weren't our destiny?

(I feel the need to clarify that while our shoes are similar, we didn't get matching colors and patterns.  We do practice some healthy boundaries.)

Then we hopped on over to Yogurt Mountain and raised our cups of yogurt to shoe shopping, and we ate that for dinner.  Because well, why not?

As she was dropping me back off at my car parked at the mall, we commiserated together over the awfulness that is the new Belk logo.  Has anyone seen it?  It’s unfortunate.  We got some good chuckles over our apparent logo-sensitivity.

Who knew Tuesdays could be so fun?

Rest in peace, Mr. Cunningham.  May we always find ourselves living happy days.

fall-ing

Birmingham weather hasn’t fully committed to the season, but by golly it’s mid-October and I’m feeling fall. Here are some of my fall lovelies:

1. Dansko clogs (what did I do without you all spring and summer?!)
2. College football (duh)
3. Leaves’ colors
4. Fall nail polish trends (this season’s pick: O.P.I.’s “You Don’t Know Jacques!”)
5. Quiet Fridays at the office (and Davenport’s pizza for lunch on those days)
6. Chilly mornings (they’ll be here soon)
7. Reduced power bills
8. Soup for dinner
9. Butternut squash (so yummy)
10. Driving with my windows down
11. Homecoming traditions
12. Spiced Cider (the smell and the beverage)

 Maybe when the temps drop some more, I’ll be inspired to add to the list.

In the meantime, what about you?

a little and her pumpkin

Anyone with a moral compass that’s barely operational knows that Hollywood’s portrayal of females – of all ages – is dangerous. Between the magazines in the grocery store check-out lanes, and a quick flipping of channels through primetime television, it’s impossible to prevent the slow destruction of our self-worth.

About three years ago, I was particularly burdened by our culture’s ruthless battle to win the souls of young girls, and the Lord was gracious to lead me to Big Brothers-Big Sisters of Greater Birmingham. Their organizational tagline is “expanding horizons through the power of one-on-one relationships,” and as the name suggests, mentors are matched with a same-gendered child who, for one reason or another, wants a Big Brother or Big Sister to spend quality time with them, one-on-one.

There are probably a million reasons why someone might choose to volunteer with an organization like that, but for me, it was fairly simple: I wanted to be sure that at least one girl growing up in this world knew that she doesn’t have to be a size zero, or make perfect grades, or be wealthy, or have flawless skin, or have a boyfriend, or be treated like an object, or be anyone other than who God created her to be.

Little girls growing up these days have it really, really tough, and grown-up girls who have their heads on, at least a little bit straight, have to resolve to reach them with the real Truth.

Whoah, that was a soap-box, and this is me hopping down off of it.

My little sister and I get together about once or twice a month, and we just spend time together. We’ve done all kinds of things over the course of the last three years: we’ve seen movies; we’ve had hot chocolate and driven around looking for the best Christmas light displays; we’ve baked cakes together, or prepared a special dinner and pretended to run a restaurant; we’ve been to a musical, and to a ballet. We’ve had a good time, hopefully “expanding horizons” along the way.

But y’all! The pressure to do something new and different and fun every time is serious business! I remember asking my mom all the time when I was younger, “What can I do?” Translation: I’m bored, give me a fun something to do. So, kudos to my mom, and all the great moms of the world, who keep your kids entertained every day. What a job.

So, October. This is my Little’s birthday month, so it's a given that we always have a little birthday fun (i.e., she gets to open her present from me) during our October outing. But I was feeling really adventurous (and crafty and apparently confident), so I decided we should tackle a traditional fall project. Pumpkin carving was going to happen.

People who know me might raise a brow. Crafts with an almost-10-year old, the gooey mess, the sharp objects – it just doesn’t really scream “wise choice.” But I was in the mood. You know, feelin’ it.

And so, this afternoon it all went down.

SO FUN. So fun, in fact, I might consider carving a pumpkin for myself, by myself, particularly since I have all this new time on my hands, sans TV. But as I like to do, here’re the takeaways from the day:

1. Ask for tips from experienced carvers. One of my friends began his advice with “It depends on how serious you want to get. I have the stainless steel tools from Williams-Sonoma…” Thankfully, even though he was writing this to me, he didn’t have to be with me to know what my response would be (a laugh-out-loud), and subsequently offered up the next-best option, assuring me that the Wal-Mart/Target kits would serve our purpose.
 
2. The $4.00 carving kits from Target are pretty legit. Ours came with 2 saws, 1 tracing wheel, 1 drill, and the all-important scraper, plus a variety of patterns from which to choose.
 
3. Of all the tools, the scraper was the most impressive. Do you remember when you were a kid, and your dad would scrape out the goop with a serving spoon from the kitchen? This new scraper is revolutionary, y’all: hand-held and controllable, short and wide, with the perfectly spaced “teeth” for scraping that flesh down to a perfect smoothness. As they say, necessity is the mother of invention. True story, true story.
 
4. I thought the variety of patterns would be great for multiple carvings, but considering 3 of the 5 tools were broken by the end of the project, that was a moot point.
 
5. My Little likes “happy” pumpkins, not scary ones. Praise be to God, the pattern for her happy pumpkin of choice was rated “Easy” by the pumpkin-carving powers that be.
 
6. The clean-as-you-go method is critical and should be employed at all times. Seriously, clean-up was less than five minutes.
 
7. Even when you’re carving in the middle of the day, you can get a sense of the finished effect in your dark closet. We did.

"Awesome” was the word the Little used to describe our project. She was excited to take home her carved pumpkin, affectionately named Jack (as in Jack O. Lantern, she clarified), but I know she really just enjoyed the time we spent together.

At the end of the day, we were made for relationships, and spending time with people is one of our deepest desires, isn’t it? In the spirit of the lesson I’m currently learning, turn off your TV sometime and try it out.

P.S. Next month will mark the one-year anniversary of our memorable trip to Chuck E. Cheese, which was a sight to behold. My head was spinning so fast after that outing that I had to write about it to bring myself back to reality. Sometime around mid-November I’ll post that recap in honor of the anniversary.

first scoop of soup

Fall is good. Fall clothes are better (in my mind they are, not so much in my closet). Fall food is the best.

My favorite piece of cookware is the red cast iron Dutch oven. (Cue the angels’ singing.) Gorgeous. She sits on my shelf all year long, waiting for this time of year, a.k.a. the Season of One-Pot Meals. Here’s the scoop on my first soup of the season.

Chicken Pie Soup

1 tube jumbo butter biscuits

*go with Pillsbury Grands
1-2 lbs. chicken breast pieces, diced
*I diced a rotisserie chicken instead
3 tablespoons butter
2 celery stalks, chopped
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
1 large carrot, peeled and diced
Salt and pepper
2 teaspoons poultry seasoning
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup shredded frozen hash browns
1 pint half-and-half
1 quart chicken stock
a healthy grating of fresh nutmeg
1 cup frozen green peas

Preheat oven according to package directions and arrange biscuits on cookie sheet. Sprinkle biscuits with a little paprika and bake for 10 to 12 minutes. You’ll only need 4 of the 8 biscuits, but bake ‘em all. They can be breakfast the next day.

In a medium pot over medium to medium-high heat, cook chicken in butter 2 minutes (if you go the rotisserie route, skip this step). Add veggies and season with salt and pepper and poultry seasoning. Cook 5 minutes more, add flour and cook another minute. Add potatoes, then whisk in half-and-half and chicken stock. Add nutmeg. Bring soup to a boil by raising heat, then turn heat back to simmer and cook soup another 10 minutes. Adjust seasonings. Add peas. Stir in to warm them through a quick minute.

You’re supposed to serve this up in mugs and top each one with a biscuit. I confess I wanted more than a mug, so I used a plain ol’ bowl, and just enjoyed more of the goodness.

Cheers to Fall!

mutual connections

Today, two of my very closest girlfriends met each other for the first time at a little coffee shop in my hometown. They sipped hot chocolate and hot green tea with mint, and across the table and through the steam rising out of those mugs, shared a little about themselves, a little about the paths they’ve traveled over the years, and a little about new lessons pressing on their hearts.

And I wasn’t there. (In the spirit of full disclosure, the hot chocolate and hot green tea with mint are technically educated guesses.)

When my alarm sounded this morning, I checked the clock and sighed, wishing I was there to facilitate their introduction. They didn’t know each other, but I have spoken of each friend to the other, as people do about the folks who are important to them, whom they love. Although it was crazy, knowing that two of my favorite people in the world were hanging out together without me, I knew they’d connect. At the very least, they have one mutual friend.

And, as I’d imagined, they had a delightful time, chatting, sharing, and connecting.

I’d like to think they connected because they both know me, but the reality is, they connected because they both know Christ. There’s something about that divine mutual Friend that trumps our earthly connections, hands down.

In 1 Corinthians 12:12-13, Paul is very clear that when we as believers accepted Christ – in his words, “were baptized by one Spirit” – we were placed into one body, and we all share the same Spirit. That means that we have the same heavenly Father. As siblings in His adopted family, we share a divine connection to Christ Jesus. That fact alone has some serious ramifications, and that’s another blog post for another day. But people, let that soak in! We are divinely connected – we are heirs – to Jesus Christ!

Later on in the New Testament, Paul’s letter to the Galatians takes this connection one step further. He writes, “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave for free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal. 3:27-28). Regardless of our family backgrounds, our salaries, our education levels, or our races, not only are we joined to Christ, but we’re joined to each other.

Having lived in four states over the last fifteen years or so, I’ve often wondered what the day would be like, and when the opportunity would come, where all of my pockets of friends would meet, and mix and mingle. (They’ll all get along, too, because I’m only friends with cool people.)

I think God looks forward to that day too, when all of His children will finally meet Him face to face, and will meet each other, too. Just think of all of us, from all across the world, spanning past, present, and future, meeting together at long last.

That’ll be a glorious day, won’t it? I can’t wait.

an unfamiliar fortnight

It’s been two weeks since the cable plug was pulled. I don’t have much revelation to share yet, because major mind transformation in my life hasn’t ever happened quickly. If you know me well, you know I’m a slow processor. If I were a computer, most people would say to me all the time, Why are you being so slow? And they’d get frustrated and ultimately want to reboot me.

Don’t get me wrong. I know all things are possible with God, and I certainly could wake up tomorrow morning with great insight as to why the Holy Spirit was leading me into this media fast of sorts.

But for now, I just felt like reflecting on what this unfamiliar fortnight has been like.

Right away, I can think of three evenings spent with friends that may not have happened at all, or at least would’ve been much abbreviated, had I felt the pull to catch up on my DVR recordings. That’s encouraging to me, that my time is already invested more in relating to real people than to fictional characters.

Silence is becoming a more comfortable habitat. As an archetypal introvert, solitude has never bothered me. Silent solitude, though, has been a different story. An NFL game (I don’t even like the NFL) was familiar white noise while I milled around the kitchen cooking dinner. A TBS presentation of an old Julia Roberts movie made Sunday afternoon naps better somehow. But now, knowing that my home is silent, I enjoy the opportunity to meditate on Scripture, or write a thank-you note, or read a good book.

I remember when Tivo took the television world by storm, and consumers insisted that they had gained this unparalleled freedom in being able to watch their favorite shows on their own time. Isn’t that just like American culture? “I want what I want, when I want it, and since there are no commercials, it’s only 42 minutes of my time, instead of the full hour.” Demanding. Instantly gratifying. Justifying.

I’m not judging, either, ‘cause I was (am) definitely one of ‘em. I still think DVRs are glorious.

But I have to say, I’ve felt liberated these last two weeks in a different way. I don’t feel the pressure of fitting in a quick episode of Brothers and Sisters before choir practice, so I can recap with my co-workers the next morning. For all intents and purposes, I had slipped into a twisted bondage to television time, another To-Do List item that, 90% of the time, was fruitless at best.

I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t admit that on a couple of days, I’ve felt this senseless kind of sadness. I'm not proud to confess that I’ve felt loss over something so silly. Even still, it has been a separation that I continue to believe will serve me well, and one through which God will be faithful to teach me something, eventually.

And, in brighter news, while studying Romans 12 and living a life separate from the world, a media fast was suggested in church yesterday. Thanks, God, for giving me a head start on that.

So, stay tuned. To my story, that is. Not your cable box.