thankful thursday #33

Six months of the year is over and out.  How did this happen?

(I'm not thankful for that.  I would appreciate it greatly if 2011 would slow its roll, in fact.)

On the other hand, our accountability group celebrated tonight that we are half-way through our Bible reading for the year.  Thanks to our project manager in the group, we receive these progress reports every so often.  You know, well-timed little pats on the back.  Encouragement to keep up the good work.

(Okay, I admit, they come in the form of color-coded charts and pie graphs, and I like it.)

For kicks and giggles, here's the rundown:

Chapters:  50% completed
Verses: 40% completed
Books:  29% completed

Cheers to six months of daily resolve ... and to the six months to come!

Tap in to that happy heart.  Go on, be grateful!

lessons learned from a garage sale

Two weeks ago Purgefest 2K11 officially came to a close when the last Garage Sale sign was pulled out of the ground.



And that, friends, was one fine moment.

No more boxes stacked in my guest room; no more Sharpies and pricing tags camping out on my kitchen table; no more tripping over garbage bags, poster board, and ground stakes.

Technically, the mission was accomplished: stuff was purged, laughs were abundant, and some funds were raised for Peru.

But as usual, we learned valuable lessons:

1. For some people, spending $1.00 on a shoulder bag is a little risky, but negotiating down to $.50 means "they won't be out anything if it falls apart when they wash it."  I'm not sure I've ever valued $.50 quite like that.
 
2. If you're not afraid, respond to the hagglers with something like, "You know we're raising money for a mission trip, right?"  (I mean, only say it if it's true, of course.)
 
3. Every garage sale host needs a friend who can provide lots and lots of tables.
 
4. Never underestimate the power of the laptop and an Excel spreadsheet (and a capable operator) at your check-out counter.  Calculators are so out.
 
5. People will not buy a brand new bike rack, or a working lamp.  But they sure will buy a dog food bowl that looks like a toilet bowl.
 
6. When bemoaning the unfortunate return on investment (garage sales are not for the faint of heart, people), keep an objective friend nearby to remind you that it's not about revenue, it's about "making memories."  Thanks, Kels.

Ah, memories.  It's good to have some things in the past tense.

thankful thursday #32, the beach week edition

What is there not to be thankful for, when one is on vacation for a solid week?  Good grief, the list is endless (but don't despair, I will limit today's list to only five).

So thankful today for ...

1. The new-to-me iPhone 4, that has enough memory for sermon podcasts to listen to on the beach.
 
2. Sinex, the miracle nasal spray.  I came down with the sniffles early this week, but a vacationing Robyn will not be defeated.
 
3. Lori, the one and only friend who rose to the challenge and recommended some beach reads.  I can always count on her for literature and music suggestions.
 
4. Brothers on the mend.  I'm not sure if we're just all getting old, or if the brotherly wrestling match went a little bit too far, but both brothers have muscle strains and muscle relaxers as trip souvenirs.
 
5. A lifted guilty conscience.  After I publicly confessed to being the family slacker in our jigsaw puzzle efforts, I did some major soul-searching, and really dug deep to complete the sky portion of Puzzle #2.  I thought I was doing Mom a favor, only to find out "it's one of her favorite parts."  Love hurts sometimes.

I could go on, but instead, you share what you're appreciating today.  Even if you're not on vacation, there must be something.  Go on, be grateful!

puzzling

My mom loves her a good jigsaw puzzle, and there's always one in progress during Beach Week with our family.

Mom's passion for puzzles makes her the natural spear header.  Translated, that is, she's the poor soul who always dumps out the box contents, gets all the pieces turned right side up, and stays up until the wee hours of the first night, connecting all the border pieces.  She takes one for the team, every time.

If Mom is the leader of Team Puzzle, I am the proverbial coat tail rider.  I pop in after the hard part is done, focusing my efforts on the pieces that can be easily located on the box picture, and placed mostly in the correct location.  And then when we're left to stare at the skies or oceans, I conveniently find something else to do.  There is no fun for me in the seas of solid blue.

I'm just being honest here.

I also confess to being stubborn and falsely sure of myself while hunched over that card table.  When I find the piece that I think is the one, I'm the girl who tries to force it in, certain that if I just push it in a little bit harder, or turn it 180 degrees, it'll match.  It'll fit.  It will.

About a week ago, my friend blogged about advice she'd give to her younger self, and invited readers to do the same.  My advice to my 15-year-old self was this:

"Everything you think you want in 15 years probably isn't what you need.  And when you find that you've gotten what you needed, instead of what you wanted, be happy about it."

It's like the puzzle pieces.  I'm insistent that I know what the right piece looks like.  And Mom gives me the not it, not gonna happen look.

And then when I do find the one -- the real one -- that slides in easily and naturally, it never looks the way I thought it would.  I can't count the number of times I've said to Mom, "Huh, who knew it'd look like that?"

Today I learned that something I thought was a done deal, in fact is not.  And it's okay, because sometimes the thing I think is right, even if it seems to need a little forcing, isn't always what I need.

When I do find the scenario that's the one I need, instead of the one I want, I'll be saying, "Huh, who knew it'd look like that?"

And I'll be happy about it.

home

Although it's been many years since I lived there, mine is in the foothills of the North Georgia mountains, in a little college town, where the red clay stains the hands of the children who play in its dirt.

It's the place where our family has roots, and where safety washes over me the second I walk through the back door with the chimes hanging from its knob.

If we're lucky -- and I am -- home gives us the opportunity to temporarily slip from adulthood back into a time where you don't make decisions, and everyone's just happy to see you.

This week, though, my home is here ...



Once a year I come here, to the panhandle of Florida, where the sand is white and the water is green.  It is blazing hot, and my favorite thing about walking through this door is the rush of the 68-degree chill that washes over me.

There is no agenda, no alarm clock, and no pressure to do anything other than what you feel like doing.

It's not my home home, but there is family here, safety, and meals provided.

And it is good!

thankful thursday #31

A couple of months ago, I was singing praises for Antelope shoes.

This week, I have to praise the store from where I purchased them.

On Monday morning, I was greeting an out-of-town colleague with a bear hug.  As I went onto my tip-toes, the strap on one of my beloved Antelopes popped off.  So disappointing, particularly given the dollar amount I'd shelled out just two months prior!

I called The Pants Store, in Crestline Village (also home to Jack's Shell Station, who also recently got a shout-out on this blog) and reported the tragedy disappointment, and without any shameful begging on my part, the lovely lady said, "You can just bring them back and we'll give you another pair.

GLORY.

Unfortunately they didn't have my size and color of choice, so they let me pick another style, which I'm breaking in even as I type this from the Atlanta airport.

And thanks to their customer service, I'm probably going to patronize them next week when my size and color of choice arrives on their next shipment.  (I'm weak, what can I say?)

Let this be a lesson, folks.  Customer service in its purest form is any company's best marketing tool.

Happy Thursday, y'all.  What's making you thankful today?  Go on, be grateful!

so long saloon black bean dip

I'm going to stop mentioning Manhattan soon.  Really, I am.

But first I needed to share this recipe inspired by a very delicious appetizer we ate here ...



Chipotle Raspberry Black Bean Dip
(Sounds crazy, right?  Don't judge.  It's so delish.)

1 can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 8-oz container of cream cheese (I used the whipped variety)
1 bottle of Chipotle Raspberry Sauce (It was almost too good to be true when I found some in the condiments aisle in my local Publix)
A handful or so of pepper jack cheese, grated
Tortilla chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Place the black beans in a 2 quart casserole dish.  Spread the cream cheese on top, and bake for about 5 minutes, so the cream cheese is good and soft.  Mix together the beans and cream cheese in the dish.  Pour about 1/3 of the bottle of raspberry sauce on top, and top with pepper jack cheese.  Bake another 15 minutes, until heated through.  Serve with tortilla chips.

Creamy, smokey, with a little sweet, and a little spice.  What is not to love?

thankful thursday #30

I enjoy a good read, but I'm not a fast reader.  On occasion, I'll breeze through a book in a couple of days, and that usually happens only when I'm on vacation, reading a lot on the beach, or spending many hours waiting in airport terminals.

On the plane to and from Manhattan this past week, I was completely transfixed with this memoir by Christina Haag, the childhood friend and long-time girlfriend of JFK, Jr.

“[Haag] doesn’t bow to tabloid sensationalism; instead, she gently dusts off her tender, aching memories and bravely holds them to the light...The book also paints a compelling portrait of the lost Manhattan of the 1970s and ’80s, a mysterious place of wealth and despair."
-- Los Angeles Times

I couldn't have said it better myself.  She is graceful, literally eloquent, and honors the legacy of the love she lost.

I'm so grateful for good books that you lose yourself in!  Aren't you?

What great reads are you thankful for -- and recommending -- today?  Go on, be grateful!

(That's a not a rhetorical question, people.  I seriously need 'em.  Beach Week is around the corner!)

giada, you do not disappoint

While I was in Manhattan, I was running on the treadmill in the comfort of the air-conditioned "fitness room," watching Giada on the Food Network.

I was so inspired by this recipe, and it was so fast and easy, that I came home tonight and grilled them right up.

Garlic-Rosemary Chicken Burgers

1 c. mayonnaise
1/4 c. chopped fresh rosemary
1 garlic clove, minced
1 lb. ground chicken breast
salt and pepper
EVOO
4 of your favorite bakery rolls
1 c. arugula

1. Mix mayo, rosemary, and garlic.  Set aside.
 
2. Heat a grill pan with a little EVOO (or a real grill, if you have the luxury) to a screaming hot temperature.
 
3. In a separate bowl, salt and pepper the chicken.  Add half of the mayo mixture.  Mix the chicken and mayo, but be gentle.  Giada says not to go overboard with the mixing, because it will make the chicken tough.  You don't want tough chicken.
 
4. Gently shape the chicken mixture into four burgers, and let them sizzle on the grill pan for about 7 minutes on each side.  Don't freak out about the gooey-ness (it will be super moist when it's done), and don't move them until you're ready to flip.  They get a delicious crustiness if you let them hang out.
 
5. Slice your rolls, drizzle each half with a little EVOO, and spread the tiniest bit of mayo mixture on each half.  Grill up your rolls, cut side down, until they're golden.
 
6. On each roll, spread a little more of the mayo mixture, a handful of arugula, and a chicken burger.

These took no time to prepare, and the rosemary and garlic make the boring chicken burger really shine.  And I bet you could substitute any fresh herb that you like, and it would be just as tasty.

Oh, Giada.  You are so faithful.

life in the little apple

This week I'm in Manhattan, Kansas, visiting with a new client.  It's only my second time here, but I'm already fond of the quirks and eccentricities that make this place home to many.

Small towns -- and let's be clear, this one isn't nearly as small as others where I've worked (and lived) -- are so underestimated.  In particular, I am my father's daughter, and I love, love, love a good college town.  Exploring so many of them is one of my favorite things about my job.

Despite the blazing heat that seems to have followed us here from Alabama, Manhattan is endearing for these reasons:

• The midwestern farmer's work-ethic that is the norm
 
• The observance of the 30 mph speed limit (although, that might actually lose its charm after a time)
 
• The patriotism that's rampant here as troops are returning home to Fort Riley
 
• The "You betchas!" we hear in response to our southern "Thanks so muches!"
 
• Aggieville
 
• The safe rooms and storm shelters
 
• That they really do call themselves "The Little Apple" and have a Central Park
 
• The indigenous limestone that crowns the architecture

It's a haul to get out here, but it's nice to  be welcomed to the Little Apple by these salt-of-the-earth folks.

thankful thursday #29

I read an article recently about relationships between women.  Family, friends, co-workers, all of 'em.  Women are complicated beings (shocking, I know), and relationships between them can be, too.

The temptation to compare, the ever-present threat of jealousy, the competitive spirits.  They just make for some natural challenges.

In particular, single women can find themselves funneled by our culture -- for better or worse -- into friendships with other single women who are quite like us.  Certainly, we can share life experiences, and even function as local families.  These are some of my most treasured friendships for all the "better" they bring into my world.

On the other hand, if we are not intentional about cultivating relationships with women in different stages than us, we lose.  We miss out.

Before I moved to Birmingham, I lived in a place where single gals my age were not particularly easy to find.  During that time, it was sometimes frustrating and lonely because of it, but I also was blessed --  and not because I was being intentional about it -- to befriend women in all walks of life while I was there.

These days, I find the opposite is true, and in this particular season, I'm being challenged and loved and surrounded by more single girls than not.  I adore this reality, but I consciously remember my reality from a few short years ago, too.

Today, in light of my reflections on female friendships, I'm feeling especially thankful for the single moms, the married moms, the grandmothers, the widows, the pastors' wives, and so many more in my life who have shared themselves, their heartbreaks, their fears, and their families with me over the years.

Who are the people you're appreciating today?  Go on, be grateful!

unsettled

I'm rather Type A.  Not totally (there is stuff all over my car right now), but mostly.

I make lists, but sometimes they're just mental ones.

At the end of the day, I prefer order to chaos.  Literally.  I can barely sleep if I have clutter around my place.

This week I've felt circumstances swirling around me, not in my control.  You know what I'm talking about -- you're grasping for some resolution, but you know it's kind of pointless?

Here's what's got me unsettled this week:

The monumental jump from AT&T to Verizon.
AT&T has powered my cell phones from my very first Zack Morris model back in 1994.  The "seamless switch" wasn't exactly my choice (want to save some bucks for the company!), and I'm a little bit bitter that my friends and family contacts didn't make the switch.  With all the iTunes syncing, exchange servers, and online address books of the world, how is it possible to retain every recipient of every work email I've ever sent, but not the people who are related to me by blood?

The house sale.
I'm still not writing about this, because well, nothing's final yet.  I tell you what: I made the right decision when I opted out of real estate as a career path.  I sure wish we could settle soon. 

Purgefest 2K11.
I am so ready for this garage sale to be over!  It feels good to purge, but it does not feel great to live amongst garbage bags and boxes.

Potential-but-not-confirmed travel for next week.
When I'm traveling half way across the country, I much prefer to know more than six days in advance.  And I don't like it that in the process, I'll miss some commitments that are much more important to me.

Emails in my inbox that haven't been addressed.
Spending the past two days recovering contacts from the old iPhone has put a serious damper on my productivity.  In my world, rarely do messages sit overnight in the inbox.  And well, they are this week.

I could go on, but really, this list is absurd.  These things are silly and insignificant in the big picture, and I'm hereby declaring them stretching, not unsettling.

Stretching.  Ugh, that's so unsettling!