a sweet statement

I participate in this community choir ...

... and it’s one of my most favorite things about living in Birmingham.

A group of Christians come together, and despite our varying denominations and traditions, together we sing praise to the one true God.  Glory! 

We sing “sacred chorale music.”  (Read, “way-over-my- head music.”)  I have a decent musical background, but seriously, I have to work really hard to keep up.  I’m far from multilingual, so in particular, the selections in Latin, Italian, French, etc. are simply out of my league.

(Don’t feel sorry for me.  It’s just my reality.  But it’s good.  Humility is healthy.)

We start rehearsals the week after Labor Day in preparation for the Christmas concert.  I admit that in September, it’s hard for me to embrace the Christmas spirit when it’s 90 degrees outside – it really takes the anticipation of Christ’s birth to a whole new level.

But then comes the concert, and all is right with the world!

Music is powerful to a lot of people, for a lot of reasons, but isn’t it remarkable to think how the church has preserved and recorded the story of Christ’s birth in song, for hundreds of years?  I love that about music.

Tonight was our concert ...

... and I’m officially pumped about Christmas.

We sang the sweet story about the birth of an innocent baby with such little fanfare, in a simple stable, because there was no room at the inn.  Jesus – the King of Kings and Lord of Lords – was born to fulfill a promise of salvation for generations to come.  That’s heavy stuff!

And yet.

How ironic and beautiful, that God the Father, the maker of heavens and earth, chose to speak to His people, after 400 years of silence, in such an understated way.

That’s my kind of statement.

deckin' my halls

I'm a big believer in letting Thanksgiving have its day, and for me, that means holding off on all things Christmas until I pull out of my parents' driveway after Thanksgiving break.  If I'm lucky, the temperature has dropped below 55 degrees (gotta love the south), and I'll pop in some Christmas tunes on the drive back to Birmingham.

Twice in my adult life the tree was erected (okay, assembled) prior to Thanksgiving.  I maintain that it was necessary those years - and likely will be again in the future - because between work and vacation, the time I'd have at home, delighting in the seasonal decor, was going to be too short if I didn't bite the bullet before Thanksgiving.

I do love Christmas, but seriously, the cost-benefit evaluation can't be justified if I can't enjoy the fruits of my decorating labors for at least three weeks.  (This is sounding like a Merry Self-Centered Christmas here ... but I digress.)

So when I do get back to town, and after I unpack and start the laundry, Christmas preparation is in full throttle.

And so today is the day!

Decking my halls looks a little something like this:

• Selecting a seasonal CD to set the musical mood
 
• Lighting a candle that smells like cinnamon, mistletoe, cider or something else festive, like the real tree I don't have
 
• Digging out the boxes of Christmas goodness from the closet
 
• Assembling the very fake tree 
 
• Fighting with the Christmas tree lights and kicking myself for not buying the pre-lit tree on sale last year
 
• Wishing for fun new decorations, and feeling Grinch-like toward the tree lights, so excusing myself to the likes of Pier1, HomeGoods, and World Market to make some purchases, thus restoring the Christmas spirit lost in said light-stringing frustration
 
• Returning home to complete the tree trimming
 
• Throwing down the tree skirt
 
• Displaying the new purchases: this year, a table centerpiece that matches my tree topper (how that happened, I'm not sure), and a festive welcome mat
 
• Hanging two very cute stockings for no one in particular
 
• Arranging the nativity scene
 
• Setting the table with Christmas china and dreaming up what I'd serve on those pretty dishes if I ever hosted a Christmas dinner
 
• Programming the light timer, so that I'm welcomed home from work every day by the happy lights that owe me for enduring their stubbornness

'Tis the season, y'all!  What're your decorating rituals?

thankful thursday #2

Happy Thanksgiving!  What a full day of family, friends, and food.  I hope your day was filled with things you love, too.

What am I especially appreciating today?  I'm thankful my day's been so full I'm barely getting this posted before Black Friday!  But two things stand out:

I had one of those side-splitting laughs, with no sound coming out -- the kind referenced in a comment from my first Thankful Thursday -- first thing this morning!  It's not uncommon for these moments to come around my family members, and I love that about us, and about my brothers in particular. 

You know the greatest thing about those?  They're so unexpected!  They sneak up on me, and I have a hard time shaking those giggles!  The story would not be funny to you, so I'll skip the details, but I'm so happy that one of those snuck up on me for Thanksgiving.

Thankful moment number two today came just after lunch, while we sat around letting the turkey and dressing goodness settle in our bellies, and sharing some more laughs.  I'm so glad that my aunt grabbed that pitcher of water and put out the fire in our Thanksgiving centerpiece!  Turns out those votive candles tucked in those pretty flowers were spicy little guys, and we had a special light show, right there at the table.

No major drama, but just enough to make me thankful.

What about you today, on this Thanksgiving edition of Thankful Thursdays?  Go on, be grateful!

review: camp taco

Although eventually the sunshine peeked through the clouds, today was one rainy mess!  It's been one of those days that a small miracle would be required to drag you outside.

Like an extra-tasty eating establishment, for example.

One like Camp Taco!  (Warning:  Worst. Website. Ever.  But I'm not reviewing the website.)

Camp Taco is on 20th Street South, just past Five Points.  It's a total hole in the wall with zippo atmosphere, but let's call a spade a spade, those spots have some tasty food!

Now, when you read "the inside scoop" on down at the bottom of this entry, you might think, "Now that is a lot of reasons not to go to Camp Taco."  Don't be a hater.


I just believe that as a foodie sharing the food love, I have an obligation to manage your expectations.

Now, onto the goodness that is Camp Taco:

order one of these (or one of each if you can't decide!):

The Flank Steak Taco with Housemade Steak Sauce and Amish Bleu Cheese, because it's the most delicious combination of sweet sauce and sharp cheese you'll ever want to consume, or

The Chicken BLT Taco with White BBQ Sauce, because while it's a little less adventurous, it's got itself a multi-faceted, well-rounded flavor nonetheless.

and if you're really hungry or have friends with whom to share:

The Tres Queso and Chips, because y'all, for a cheese lover (i.e., me), this is the mother of all queso dips.  It has your regular ol' melted queso blanco (the white cheese of all Mexican joint quesos), and then piled inside of that is shredded Monterey Jack cheese and crumbled queso fresco.  Be still, my heart!

and the inside scoop, from yours truly:

1. Note that "specials" -- including my two taco recommendations -- are listed to the right of the main menu, on a board that resembles something a kindergartner might prepare for a science fair project.  Not really a great way to highlight your chef's picks, but to each his own.
 
2. All the tacos are served on double soft tortillas, so if you're cheap like me, you can split the filling of one taco between the two tortillas and pretend like you get more bang for your buck, even though you're really not.
 
3. Chips and salsa aren't free, so if you're getting something extra to munch on, go with the Tres Queso.  (I know you're surprised by that recommendation.)
 
4. For lunch, wait 'til later in the noon hour, because you will want to parallel park.  All three times I've been, we've had no problems snagging a spot, but we go late.
 
5. Given #4 above, be sure your driver doesn't struggle with the parallel parking.  It could get ugly.  And don't forget some change for the meter.
 
6. As previously mentioned, considering the (un)atmosphere, don't try to impress a first date there (unless he/she is a cheese lover).
 
7. Don't go if you have more than four people in your party.  They have only two- and four- tops, and you can't go pushing tables together, because, well, they're all booths affixed to the floor, and that would just be a disaster.
 
8. If you have picky eaters in your group (i.e., not me), I've heard the Chicken Melt -- just chicken and cheese -- is the safe bet for those poor souls.

Try it out, y'all.  It'll make your rainy days taste better.

chuck e. cheese: the anniversary edition

Yesterday, the Little was scheduled to come over for Christmas decorating and card stuffing (call me a slave driver, but I like to encourage productivity during our quality time; life's not always about ice cream and movies, you know).  Unfortunately, she came down with a nasty bug, so decorating didn't happen, and I also have no fun pics to share, as I'd planned.

Instead, and as previously promised, I am posting my recap of our outing to the great Chuck E. Cheese's from exactly one year ago.

Despite my insistence to not be, I was that adult in Chuck E. Cheese’s tonight. You know the one. She is the excessive token provider. (Tokens seemed so much more expensive when I was seven!) He is the keeper of the ticket wads. (Don’t you remember wondering how those families won so many tickets?)

Collectively, they are the enablers and supporters of Kid Vegas.

Yes, I met the Little nearly two years ago. And yes, one of her very first outing suggestions was to visit Chuck E. Cheese's. And yes, I’ve avoided this (not really) innocent wish for that long. Sure, we’ve had some memorable outings: dying Easter eggs; the park; The Nutty Nutcracker last Christmas; her first manicure for her 9th birthday; the list goes on. But as we are approaching our two-year match anniversary, the guilt had really just become too much. Chuck E. Cheese’s had to be done. Tonight was the night.

So, in case you’re wondering, not much has changed in 20+ years at the Chuck. The parent to child ratio is still alarming. The parents’ supervision of said children is minimal, at best. The “prizes” are still made from the cheapest materials known to man. If there are any posted rules there (I didn’t see any), one of them is not, “No running allowed.” And, from my experience as a sort-of event planner, the traffic flow in the gaming areas is really tragic.

On the other hand, my perspective has changed a great deal over the last 20+ years. Here’s what I learned:

1. Kids are taught very early to value “stuff.” They’re not in it for the games; they’re in it for those plastic prizes.
 
2. Kids instinctively find ways to work less for more reward. Those games that have a “jackpot” opportunity (i.e., 250 tickets) with the single push of a “no whammy” button have the longest lines.
 
3. Speaking of devaluing work, did you know you don’t even have to count tickets and do old-fashioned math anymore? They have machines to do that for you now.
 
4. The real prize goes to those employees, who wait so, so patiently behind the Counter of Plastic Prize Goodness as sugar-high patrons mentally calculate every possible combination of prizes that equals 874 tickets.
 
5. Not all of those ticket wads people carry around are earned honestly. Of our 874 tickets, about 540 of them were machine errors. That is not an exaggeration.
 
6. There are people (usually between the ages of 12 and 14) who spend a lot of time at the Chuck and know the tricks to those aforementioned jackpots. If you see them, act impressed, and ask them for the secret, because they tell you, and you can win the jackpot too. We did.

I have to admit, on the fun scale, this outing was around a 7 for me, much higher than was anticipated. The pizza wasn’t as tasty as I remembered, and the “shows” hardly qualified as entertaining. But I did enjoy a night of observing the next generation, and personally playing for the jackpot a few times for kicks and giggles.

And seeing the Little enjoy herself was kind of nice, too.

What about you parents out there?  What're the stressful places you take your kids?

a testimony

At church today, Pastor Calvin challenged us to know our testimony, and to be able to communicate it clearly in less than one hundred words.  Sounds tricky, yes?

I don't know about you, but to me, "testimony” can be so heavy, so overwhelming.  For a long time I thought of a person’s testimony in the context of a formal presentation of “How I Became a Christian.”  And there are certainly times where that full-blown version is appropriate, and maybe necessary.

Several years ago, another pastor lessened my anxiety about testimonies, saying it was really just a story about how the Lord has worked/is working in your life.  That’s true, and it was a little bit helpful, but …

I still wrestled with this idea that ordinary people (like me), with ordinary conversion stories (like me), lacked the ability to relate to – and intrigue – someone who was considering the Christian life.

Let’s just keep it real: when someone (like me) starts their story with, “I grew up in church, and when I was twelve years old …” that is the beginning of a total snooze-fest testimony for me.

Part of a powerful testimony is the change component, right?  Evangelists being paid to share their testimonies seem to have conversions on the heels of a terrible accident, an illness, a loved one's death, a rock-bottom moment in substance abuse.  No doubt about it, those are the powerful befores and afters that get people excited!

On the other hand, when someone’s been living the Christian life since they were seven, we can all rejoice that they were saved at such a tender age, but don't you want to know their story didn’t end then?  Don't you want to hear that they’ve somehow been changed for good along the way?

Don’t get me wrong, I tear up just about every time a little one gets baptized.  Praise be to God, and thanks in large part to praying and diligent parents, those testimonies are real, and no less miraculous than ones that happen to people who are 21, 52, or 87 when they make a life-changing decision about Who’s in charge of their lives.

And that’s the rub: children being baptized is a beautiful thing, but where's the zing in their story?  Where's their opportunity for extreme transformation?  After all, when I was twelve and publicly confessed my belief in a living God, I wasn’t exactly living a crazy rebellious life, from whence I would make a supernatural U-turn away from the dark side!

I admit that I’ve often thought of what a boring story mine is, and I’ve wondered how a story like mine, when shared, could possibly interest someone enough to give them a better understanding of the Christian life. 

Isn't that just like Satan?  To trick God's people -- whose stories might not be the dramatic ones you hear at revivals and Christian conferences -- into thinking that their stories can't have an impact for the kingdom? 

So, while my story might not be dramatic on the outside, it has everything to do with the work the Lord has done – and continues to do – on the inside.

(Cue the word counter.)

There was a time in my life when I thought that being a Christian – and obtaining the Lord’s favor – was a privilege reserved for the morally superior:  those who followed rules; always made “right” decisions; made their parents and families proud; and were considered “good” people by others.

In my quest to become morally superior (and make no mistake, stumbling all over the place along the way), I landed myself instead on the top rung of the Ladder of Morality, looking down my nose at other people in judgment and self-righteousness.  It wasn’t pretty.

These days, I’m still a work in progress, but the Lord has been gracious to teach me that His love is one that extends to all people, no matter if they’ve followed all the rules, made all the right decisions, won the approval of their families, or carry baggage that exceeds the morally acceptable weight limit.

He loves everyone passionately, and He commands us to do the same.  That’s our (my) challenge every day.

Sigh.  I couldn’t do it in less than one hundred words.  I’ll have to work on that.

In the meantime, be encouraged in your story, no matter where it falls on the ordinary scale.  There are other ordinary people waiting to hear it!

thankful thursdays

Thursdays rock my world.  I meet with five beautiful women every week for a little Bible study, a little prayin', a little laughin', a little cryin', a little eatin', and it is glorious.  I love those girls.

I can't remember a Thursday where I didn't leave them with a big extra dose of gratitude overflowing my cup.  For friendships, for sharing, for all sorts of tiny (and big!) things.

So the plan is to institute Thankful Thursdays each week here on the blog.  I'm not going to be all Oprah and list five things in my "Gratitude Journal" or anything (gag).  And fair warning, it might be totally off-the-wall, crazy insignificant, or just downright shallow.

And it may or may not accompany a short story. J

It's just a little exercise to keep my spirit grateful and my heart glad.  Taking the time for some simple thanks.  And you can play, too!

This Thursday?  I'm thankful for my safety this morning!

My sweet mom has been on a tireless hunt for used, good-condition furniture for the little bro's new apartment.  And we all know Craig's List is a go-to for starters.  So this morning I went to scout out some furniture she'd found online, here in town.

And, I had to meet a nice-enough-sounding guy at his ... wait for it ... storage unit to see it.  A little shady, maybe, right?

I can be naive about these things, but today I asked one of the guys at work to call me at a designated time, just in case I'd been taken out to a woodshed or something.  (Morbid, right?!  But give me some credit for covering my bases!)

So, all was well, there was no drama, and I'm just thankful it was a safe situation.  And for my friend who called me up to check on me.  It was very brotherly, in the non-related kind of way.

Your turn.  What're you appreciating today?  Go on, be grateful!

being and blogging

I’ve considered blogging for a long time.  Like for a couple of years. I even tried once, but it was lame.  So after about four entries, I was done.

Two months ago, when I disconnected my cable, I decided that blogging would be my new hobby, because

    a)   I enjoy the written word,
    b)   I have a lot more time on my hands, and
    c)   I figured I might enjoy keeping a scrapbook of sorts.

So I started wondering about how exactly to launch this whole thing.  About how, if I told someone, “Hey!  Check out my blog!”  And they went to read it, and there was only my first entry?  How boring.

That got me thinking that I should blog incognito for a while, get started, hopefully get myself into a writing rhythm, and begin to discover my online personality, without telling people.  So I did!

Here’s what you might see in my entries: 

1. Lists (I’m a list-maker, so … yeah.)
2. Occasional photos
3. Some good eats (I love food!)
4. God moments
5. Recaps of trips
6. And generally, a little glimpse into what it’s like being me.

Here’s what you won’t see in my entries:

1. Anything dishonoring to a person

Well, that’s the only thing I know of right now that’ll for sure be off limits.

Today’s the official invitation to blog stalk me, because I’ve finally settled on the design.  (That was also a big process for me, and I have some really great professionals to thank for that.)

Thanks for visiting, y’all.  I hope you’ll poke around, maybe come back and comment sometime, but if you don’t, that’s okay, too.

I'll just keep on being and blogging anyway.

made over

I like make-up.  I like a thick, black mascara …

… and I like a deep, red lipstick.

It’s a healthy little pop of drama in the life of someone who has a low tolerance for drama.

For fun this weekend, my friend and I are going to have make-overs by Julie Hewitt.

She’s pretty fabulous, and her product line is, too.  Check her out sometime.

Being made over every now again is nice.  It’s new.  Updated.  Fresh.  You feel like a million bucks, walking out of that salon, even if it’s just for a fun dinner with the girls.

The greatest make-over we can ever enjoy, of course, is the new life we receive through Christ.  I love that the Bible tells us so plainly, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

The Greek word for “new” in that passage is kainos, and it means fresh, unused, unworn, and better yet, unprecedented!  Isn’t that thrilling?  When you become reborn in Christ Jesus, you are novel.  More uncommon, unmatched, and unparalleled than anything you’ve ever been previously, or anything you could hope to be on your own.  Glory to God.

The LORD did some pretty spectacular renewal in the Old Testament, too.  Israel?  Yeah, they had dropped the ball big time.  The nation’s sin and profanation of God’s name was heartbreaking to God (who wouldn’t be, after their antics?), but He still promised good to them: "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you" (Ezekiel 36:26).  He pledged their restoration both spiritually (v. 26), and then externally through prosperity (vv. 29-30).

And, on a side note, He is clear that it’s not for Israel’s sake – goodness knows they didn’t deserve His mercy – but for His holy name’s sake (Ezekiel 36:22).  I love it when He gets in a jab.  In truth, of course. J

So next time you sweep on some of your favorite eye shadow, or purse your lips to spread the glossy goodness, remember God’s goodness in His making us over, one new heart at a time.

highlights from an ordinary week

at work:

Auburn and South Carolina clinched their spots in the SEC Championship game, which will happen in just a couple short weeks.  Yay for them.  Boo on any fans that don’t enjoy the success with class.

back home:
Talked to my little brother, just as he was signing his name to an apartment lease in New Orleans.  Here we are a couple of Christmases ago:

I’m so proud of him, flying out of Athens right into adulthood, as he’ll be interning for a spell in the Big Easy here:

… at the same internship, in fact, that I had exactly one decade ago!

Helloooo, full circle!

on the treadmill:
Big progress: ran 1.5 miles today and no knee pain.  Praise God for that!

AND in the kitchen:
If you’ve never made these little bites of goodness, find a reason to.  They’ll disappear before you know it!

Sausage Pinwheels

2 cans of Pillsbury Crescent Rolls (I like Butter Flake)

1 lb. of Jimmy Dean pork sausage (mild, hot, sage, whatever you prefer)

Unroll one can of crescent roll dough onto wax or parchment paper (for easy clean-up).  Seal the perforations, so you create one big rectangle of dough.  Take half of the sausage, and spread it out on the dough, going almost to each edge.  Roll up the dough, lengthwise, as tightly as you can.  Wrap the rolled log into the wax or parchment paper, and stick in the fridge for 15-30 minutes, or until you’re ready to bake, just to firm it up.  (It’s easier to slice that way.)  When you’re ready to bake, preheat the oven to 350°.  Slice the log thinly, about ¼” – ½” each.  Place each pinwheel onto a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper (again, easy clean-up), and bake for about 15-18 minutes.  Repeat using the other can of dough and the remaining sausage.  Makes a lot. J

ready to run

As I recently disclosed in humility, I’ve been down on my back (I never really understood that phrase before now) for the last couple of weeks (such misery).  What you haven’t had the great pleasure of reading about yet is the unfortunate water-skiing injury that rocked my world back in August. 

(Not to worry, I won’t take the time to do that now.  I fear writing about it will somehow channel the pain that I’m not prepared to handle.)

So the short story is, I’ve been on the mend for one reason or another for the past twelve weeks, and the extent of my physical activitiy has been only rehab exercises, as prescribed by a lot of knowledgeable and supportive family and friends.  (Yes, they are professionals.)

But running, weight-training, those things, they’ve been on the back burner.  Actually, that is a lie.  They've been off my radar completely.  And unfortunately, those activities are necessary in my world, so that I can eat the yummy food I love without having to buy a whole new wardrobe.

But alas, the time has come.  It’s time to start reconditioning the body, so that I can be a functioning thirty-something again.  Limping when I get out of bed in the mornings, busting out the heating pad at night, popping Advil like it’s candy – I’m just over it all.

Last week I felt physically well enough to begin easing myself back into the gym, and had mentally prepared myself so as to not be discouraged by just how far I have to go.  And whoah, it's far.

But I’m ready to run again.  And, dare I say it, I’m considering another half marathon.  (I’m not fully committed though, so please, let's not go forming a running accountability group or anything.)

Stay tuned.  Long way to go.

take-out review: carrabba's

On our trip this past weekend, we really committed ourselves to total relaxation (read “laziness”).  And to give you an idea of exactly how slothful we were, after lounging around until 6:30 p.m. and spending all of two hours at a nearby outlet mall, we went home exhausted at 8:30.

In our defense, we had been pushing through Operation Pick-a-Lock at 3:00 a.m., but we had set laziness as a goal from the beginning (oh, the irony).

In remaining devoted to our mission of doing as little as possible, we opted for take-out on Saturday night.  A little bit regrettably, we didn’t even venture off to patronize a local dive, which I almost always prefer over a chain.

Instead we chose Carrabba’s Italian Grill.  Because it was next to the mall.  (Don’t judge.  I told you we were taking relaxation to a whole new level.)

Where am I going with this blog post?  As a food-lover, I feel the need to tell you that Carrabba’s take-out is the real deal.  So good!

My two friends selected seafood entrees that they both said were delish.  I ate the Johnny Rocco Salad, a bed of mixed greens with shrimp and scallops, roasted red peppers, and olives, dressed in vinaigrette.  And it was superb.  And then we had calamari.  So, so yummy.

The food was some of the better take-out I’ve eaten.  Here’s why:

1. Curbside pick-up and accurate ETA of our order.
2. Smart, attractive packaging of food.
3. All sides, sauces and accompaniments were included, without having to ask.
4. Every order included half a loaf of their warm bread (with EVOO, seasonings, and Parm cheese to boot).
5. Did I mention the calamari?  It’s some of the best.

So next time you’re craving Italian in the comfort of your home, give Carrabba’s a go.  At the very least, you can count on solid carbs.

off-roading

So, that gift I blogged about yesterday?  This one?

Good news: it’s this beautiful here.

 Bad news: it took four hours of waiting, a locksmith, and this to get here.

They say good things come to those who wait!

You can read the unabridged version of that story here, as told by my good friend who provides humorous commentary on all the details that, quite frankly, are so outrageous I wouldn’t hold it against you if you didn’t believe them.  But it was for real.

For lots of people, and probably even me at one time in my life, circumstances like those would completely ruin any chance for a relaxing weekend we’d traveled four hours (and waited four more hours) to enjoy.

And what a shame!  Because seriously, our adventure – some proverbial off-roading, if you will – is in the running for one of my most favorite 2010 memories.  We laughed so hard, we were beyond crying.  It’s such a good story that we can remember together, and laugh about over and over, for a long time to come.  Totally worth the inconvenience.

So, you know me and lists.  Here are lessons learned from an off-road experience (which clearly is a regular occurrence with my friends).

1. Keep your cool.  Conditions can go south really quickly if everyone isn’t intentional about exercising their “this is no big deal, it could be much worse, and God’s good all the time” attitudes.  You may want to crank up some praise songs to lighten the mood.
2. When contacting locksmiths, when someone says, “I will dispatch a technician …” all words beyond that are irrelevant, and you should hang up immediately.  Otherwise, you might find yourself waiting on a lock-picker who’s leaving a tavern 14 hours away from you.  Keep it local.
3. There are a couple of things you should immediately identify if you’re locked out of your vacation spot at 2:00 a.m.  Particularly if you’re traveling with friends who make you laugh a lot, at the top of that list would be an establishment with clean restrooms that’s open 24 hours.  Just sayin’.
4. And lastly, travel with people you really, really like.  Off-roading is just way less stressful that way.

What about you?  Crazy travel adventures you care to share?

to me, from Jesus

For the second week in a row, I’ve got the weekend off.  YES!  In the world of college football, that just doesn’t happen, so this is a good thing.  It’s like a surprise gift, wrapped up with paper and a pretty bow, to me, from Jesus.

Sometimes when I get a fall weekend off, I like to do nothing, ‘cause goodness knows I’m burning up the roads every other weekend. 

But sometimes, I take my friends up on an offer to travel for fun.  Today we’re heading south to the beach.  In November!  I love that.

It’ll be a little bit chilly, so no sun-soaking or crazy tan lines.   No swimsuits (another gift!), humidity, or SPF.  No sandy beach towels or salty skin from the ocean.

Instead, maybe I’ll sleep a little late.  Indulge in an easy read on the porch.  Wrap up in a cozy sweater and a scarf under the stars.  Listen to the ocean.  Eat some fresh seafood.  Laugh with the girls.

Packing and road trip happening in T-2 hours.  Bring it.