If Only I Had Twitter

It's been previously established I have no social media accounts. It's an intentional lifestyle choice, but  ironically enough, part of my big-girl job is to serve as the social media coordinator for the conference I plan. If you're scratching your head right now, that's okay. I do so myself on occasion. It was a bit of an accident and somehow I wound up taking over the responsibilities here a couple of years ago. 

I can't imagine the circumstances under which I would ever resurrect my own personal existence on social media, but once in a blue moon, though, I do have fleeting thoughts where I think, "Man, I wish I had an account on Twitter or Facebook." The key word is fleeting. F-L-E-E-T-I-N-G. Those thoughts last all of about 0.67 seconds, and it's usually because I want to tweet at someone, not because I feel like I have something to say otherwise. 

Alas, since I don't have Twitter (or Facebook or Instagram or TikTok), I'm going to resort to merely posting a collection of trivial tweets I've thought of recently, the things I would say if I had Twitter (or Facebook or Instagram or TikTok). Maybe I just need to coerce all my friends who do have social media to post these on my behalf?!

The real Jon McLaughlin
would be the one on the right

• @JonMcLaughlin: Did you know your long-lost twin is on the cover of DiAnn Mills' book Firewall? #DoubleTake

• @BenRector: Your lyrics to "If You Can Hear Me" greatly trouble me. "Sometimes the devil sounds a lot like Jesus, telling me I'm not enough." These lyrics make no sense to me, no matter how many times I listen to them. Please explain. #SoConfused

•  @HappyRantPod: What are the odds you have transcripts of your episodes? I am looking for ONE line said by Ronnie Martin in an episode sometime in 2020 that literally changed my life. That shouldn't be hard to find, right? #NeedleInAHaystack

• @LeagueLegacyUS: Once upon a time you made the world's most PERFECT ball cap. WHY DID YOU STOP MAKING IT? #BringItBackFromTheDead #PrettyPlease 

• @LazBoy: I swear my recliner is laced with sedatives. I blame you for my lack of productivity. #TheStruggleIsReal 

• @BathBodyWorks: You make a gazillion different scented candles. Why can't you carry the ONE scent I want (You're The One) on the ONE day of the year I bother to set foot in your store?! #WhatIsTheDeal #YoureNotTheOne #FirstWorldProblems

• @Subaru_USA: I made the right choice when I bought my Forester. #YoureTheOne

• @PilotPenUSA: You make the world's best pen. Just thought you should know. G-2 all the way! #Seriously #ILoveIt #IRarelyTravelWithoutOne

• @Techstyles Sportswear: I really wish you would sell direct-to-consumer. You make my favorite sweatshirt. And the only place I have found them so far is in a store in Jackson, Wyoming. Know anyone in Ohio who sells your sprinter crew sweatshirt??

• @SieteFoods: I typically buy no less than four bags of Lime Tortilla Chips when I go to the store. This is a problem. But occasionally I get a bag I swear is stale. This, too, is a problem. #WhatsUpWithThat

• @FoodShouldTasteGood: I would buy no less than four bags of Harvest Pumpkin Chips when I go to the store but you STOPPED MAKING THEM. Why does everyone feel the need to discontinue my favorite products? #HelpASistaOut #BringBackHarvestPumpkin 

If you're so inclined, feel free to post one of the above on my behalf. You'll just have to text or email me their response. #OldSchool 😉

A Collection of Loves

If you have come to this post expecting any sort of wisdom or profound thoughts, you will be sorely disappointed. I have no such words to offer as of late. Some things just take awhile to percolate, and I've learned never to rush such thoughts.  

I do, however, have a collection of things I have been loving lately - podcasts, books, food, music, products. Just a little bit of everything. I've been reading books like a bear coming out of hibernation, searching for food. I've just been gobbling up one book after another. And I've been trying all sorts of new foods and recipes, some good, some not-so-good.  I offer this collective list merely as a means of recommendations and a peek into my wanderings lately. Perhaps you'll find a few will make it on to your own list of loves. 

• "Escape to the Chateau". This show has been on for years and I am only now just discovering it. I love Dick and Angel. I don't have cable, so I can only blame PBS for sucking me in.

• "Just Want You" by The Belonging Co, featuring Sarah Reeves. I cannot get enough of this song.

• Webcam at Turpin Meadow Ranch. I stayed at this ranch the first time I ever went to Wyoming. I LOVE this place and I just discovered there is a webcam there. I am hooked. I'm also obsessed with the webcam at the National Elk Refuge.

• The Spatty. Say hi to your new best friend. I've known about this product for awhile, but never bothered to buy one. But then I had a few lotion bottles and tubes that I wanted to clean out. Enter "The Spatty." I've used it nearly every day since I got it.

• Rebol. Such.good.food. This place is my guilty pleasure. Just minus the guilt actually because all their food is ultra-healthy and follows the mindset of functional medicine, which says, "Food is medicine." And their Paleo cookies? I had one over the weekend and it was a magical moment.

• Shrink Art. It's like magic. Equally entertaining for children and adults. I had done shrink art before but rediscovered it after thinking through what activity to have for a women's ministry I've been volunteering with. I just bought whole sheets of it, traced some images I found online, colored them, baked them and voila! 

• Whole30. This has literally changed my life. I started doing it several years ago and it has been a total game-changer. I started a round at the beginning of this year and I feel so much better. The wonder of good sleep is incentive enough to follow through with this approach.

• Harvest Sheet Pan Dinner. In the midst of Whole30, I've been exploring new recipes. I've been loving this one.

• Bacon. I know, I'm late to the game on this one. I'm not a huge bacon fan. (You can now pick up your jaw from the floor.) I felt kinda 'meh' about it. I had never bothered to purchase bacon at a grocery store, on my own, as an adult, until the last two weeks. And now I just want to eat it all the time. 

• Jesus, My Father, the CIA and Me by Ian Morgan Cron. This book. It had me laughing so hard I nearly peed my pants. I gobbled it up in one night. It was both sad and hilarious all at the same time. I also read The Road Back To Me by Cron, which I likewise recommend.

• Happy Rant Podcast. I'm not much of a podcast listener, but this is the one podcast I listen to faithfully, and routinely laugh out loud while doing so. And Ronnie Martin's Twitter feed - I wish I could write half as well as he does. He is a fabulous writer. 

• The Doctor's Farmacy Podcast. I don't listen to this one quite as faithfully, but I still listen to it a fair amount.

• Breath by James Nestor. Who knew there was a history to breathing. SO fascinating. I learned so much from this book.

• Hoopla. I use this app pretty regularly to access and stream music, but I do it for free through the public library. It's not like Spotify or Pandora that shuffles songs based on a few 'seed' songs. This gives you much greater control and lets you just straight up listen to entire albums of your choosing.

• Internet. I know, it's about like the bacon situation. I just got legit, hi-speed internet for the first time in my life. Go ahead and re-read that sentence again. I'll wait until your head is done exploding. Yes, I have gone my entire adult life without ever actually having internet. I would either use my phone, go to the public library, or use a mobile Wi-Fi 'Jetpack,' which really couldn't do much. I now have 5G, wired, unlimited internet and it is uh-mazing.

• Macadamia nuts. Add these next to bacon and internet. Clearly I've been living under a rock my whole life. How have I not discovered these before now?? The price tag on these little suckers is the only thing stopping me from eating my body weight in macadamias. 

• Fed Up documentary. Very enlightening.

• Food: What the Heck Should I Eat? by Mark Hyman. Can you tell I'm a fan of Mark's? (See also the Doctor's Farmacy podcast above and the Fed Up documentary, which he is in.) 

• Sanditon. I first watched the series on PBS. It was Jane Austen's last unfinished, unpublished work before she died. Spoiler alert: the guy does not choose the girl. Which annoys me. Greatly. But Theo James is just way too good-looking for me to be upset with him for very long. I also read two different versions of the book. Austen had only written eleven chapters before she died. One book took Austen's original chapters and then the author finished the book as she imagined Austen would have. The other version was just the book form of the TV series. (I also re-read Pride and Prejudice and re-watched both the Kiera Knightly movie version and the BBC series. I was clearly on a Jane Austen kick for awhile.)

Despite all of these things I've been loving, there are a few things I would not recommend:

• Sardines. I can't. I just can't. I thought I'd try to branch out some in the food department. This was a branch too far.

• Seaweed snacks. Again, trying to broaden my horizons and be a bit adventurous in the food department. It's a definite 'no'.

• Hazelnuts. I love Nutella, but I'm less of a fan of the raw nut. Kinda boring. And chewy.

• Book of Fire by Brian Moynahan. It's on the life of William Tyndale, the man who translated the Bible into English and was persecuted for doing so. Obviously, Tyndale's life is fascinating, but the book itself was a bit dense and the writing style left a little something to be desired.

• The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab. I was pretty excited to read this book because the plot summary sounded so intriguing, but I wound up pretty disappointed. It is no doubt wildly imaginative and creative, but it had several sex scenes that I just didn't care to read, and quite frankly, really great stories can be told without those elements

It's Time

Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and your dominion endures through all generations. The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises and faithful in all he does. The Lord upholds all who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down.  The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food at the proper time.  You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing. - Psalm 145:13-16

I often wondered if this season of life would ever end.  In the deepest places of the valley, I wondered, "What if it never ends? What if it's always like this?" What if panic never leaves? What if anxiety always haunts me? What if I have to live with my parents forever? (That was always the real question.) Just like David in Psalm 13:1, I lifted up my eyes and asked so often of the heavens, "How long, O LORD?" 

What I have learned in this season of life, maybe now more than ever, is the answer to that question is simply when it's the proper time. It's not when I say it's time, and it's not when someone else says it's time.  It's not when I've decided I've had enough and when I'm ready to move on.  God, in his perfect sovereignty, ordains the proper time. He opens his hand and satisfies he desires of every living thing - at the proper time. And not a moment before then.

I'd like to believe this season of life has at last come to a close and that God in his infinite wisdom has finally declared, "It's time."  In what proved to be one of the most difficult seasons of my life, when it felt like everything I had ever known to be true about myself and about God was rattled to the core, I can stand on the other side of it and say I am grateful.  I am not grateful for the pain and suffering in and of itself.  I pray to God I never go through another panic attack again in my life.  But I am grateful for what it has produced in me - a deeper dependence on him, a deeper appreciation for people and how much I need them, a deeper affection for God's Word.

In a matter of months, I have changed jobs, left my church of nearly 12 years, moved into my own place, said goodbye to some old friends and said hello to some new ones.  In each of those instances, God made clear, "It's time."  It's time to change jobs.  It's time to part ways with my church.  It's time to move out.  It's time to let go of that friendship.  It's time to say 'yes' to that friendship.

It's simply time.      

Just like the words in Ecclesiastes 3, I've become acutely aware of how there is a time for everything. A time to plant and a time to uproot.  A time to tear down and a time to build.  A time to weep and a time to laugh.  A time to mourn and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them. A time to keep and a time to throw away. There are seasons to everything.

There's been a lot of uprooting recently in my life, but now it's time to plant.  There's been a lot of tearing down, but now it's time to build.  There's been a lot of weeping, but now it's time to laugh.  There's been a lot of mourning, but now it's time to dance.  There's been a lot of scattering, but now it's time to gather.

God knows just what I need - and he knows just what you need.  He'll provide it at the proper time.  He won't be too early.  He won't be too late.  He won't be rushed and he won't delay.  He's faithful to "make everything beautiful in its time" (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

Trust his heart and trust his timing.

"Because God is Almighty, we have been set free from thinking that we need to manipulate circumstances, maneuver people, manufacture resources, or move ahead of God in order to bring to pass what He has for our lives. God has everything to see to it that it is done. He will do it perfectly, in the perfect way, at the perfect time. When we let Him bring to us what He has for us, we can receive it freely and enjoy it fully." - Roy Lessin

The Power of Place

I don't know how other people have marked seasons of their lives, but I have largely marked mine by different map dots and zip codes.  Do you ever stop to consider the power of geography, how the topography of a map really becomes the topography of your life?

Author Hannah Anderson said in a recent post,

"The paradox of place is that while God may exist everywhere, human beings don’t. Made from the dust of the earth, we’re forever linked to it and can no more escape its boundaries than we can escape ourselves. In fact, we each owe our existence, at least in some small way, to geography. We can’t trace our heritage without simultaneously tracing the map, the places where our forebears lived and loved forever bound up in the strands of our DNA. So important is geography to human identity that when God the Son became human, when he willfully assumed the limits of time and space, he became Jesus of Nazareth, the son of the carpenter Joseph who went up to Bethlehem because he was of the house and lineage of David."   

I owe my existence, in some small way, to geography.  The wide open spaces of Missouri's farmlands were where I learned to flourish and thrive as a Christian, the place where I sunk deep spiritual roots.  The jaw-dropping mountains of Jackson Hole were where I found rest and a piece of my heart.  The endless savannas of Kenya and its horrifically bumpy roads were where I learned satisfaction, the deep-in-your-gut kind of satisfaction.  The winding roads and dusty horse show arenas of Kentucky were where I learned the value of discipline and perseverance.  The island waters of New Caledonia were where I learned to let go of fear and preach the gospel (and that I am never ever going snorkeling again).  The deep red bricks of Red Square and the shadows of the Kremlin of Russia were where I learned the weight and gravity of my own depravity.  The lush jungles of Guatemala were where I learned the lengths some people will go to in order to get their hands on the gospel.

All these places, and so many others in between.

They are how I've marked my life.  Season by season, I've traced my life through pages of road atlases, Google Maps and airline miles.  I've flown over those "flyover states" more times than I count.  I've crossed the Atlantic, and I've crossed the Pacific.  I've seen the Rocky Mountains, the Caucuses Mountains, the Smoky Mountains, the St. Elias Mountains, and a few others in between.  

But there's always that one place.  That one place that has marked us more significantly than all the others combined.

San Diego has been that place for me.

The summer after my sophomore year of college, I lived in Mission Beach, an area not far from downtown San Diego.  That summer changed everything for me.  Jesus changed everything for me.  He completely altered the trajectory of my life, in ways I couldn't have fathomed as a college kid or fully comprehended at the time.

Sunset over the Pacific, off the shores of Mission Beach

I had been wanting to go back to San Diego for years.  Other trips kept taking priority and I kept putting it off.  Five years rolled by, ten years rolled by, twelve years rolled by.  The more time that lapsed, the more I felt the need to go back.  I finally decided last summer to quit talking about it and just go.  I booked flights, made arrangements with an AirBnB, convinced my mom to go and off we went a few weeks ago.

I set foot on that beach a few weeks ago, and I was taken back in time, remembering that college girl I used to be.  I recognized so many of the shops and streets and buildings, all of them reminders of a different season of life, a season so full of wrestling, doubt and uncertainty, a season that disrupted my life and set me on a path of fierce determination to chase after Jesus for all my days.  San Diego is where I anchored my faith out in deep waters, the place where I shouted at God in the pages of my journals, desperate for him to reveal himself to me.  It's the place where I demanded signs of him and all I got in return was silence and that still small voice.  It's the place where he asked of me, "Are you all in whether you ever sense my presence again or not, whether you ever see me move again in your life?" No cloud, no whirlwind, no bolt of lightning.  Just that still small voice.

And I hear that still small voice again in this season of life.  This season of anxiety and panic attacks, a season of feeling like the rug got ripped out from underneath me, leaving me floundering, my body feeling the shock waves for months now.  A season when he's asking yet again, "Are you still all in?"

I stood on the beaches of San Diego a few weeks ago and told Jesus -

"My answer is 'yes.'  I'm still all in."      

I was marking another season of life by geography.

In 1 Samuel 7, Samuel took a stone, set it up between Mizpah and Shen and named it Ebenezer.  "Thus far the Lord has helped us."

He was effectively declaring, "It is here, now, in this place, where we will proclaim what God has done for us, how he has carried us thus far."

It was there, then, in that place, on that beach, where I declared, "Thus far the Lord has helped me."

My life has been forever marked by the sand and shores of San Diego.  It was between Coronado Island and Pacific Beach, in a neighborhood called Mission Beach, where I took a figurative stone, named it Ebenezer, and declared:

Thus far has the Lord helped me.

You always have to take a jumping photo for good measure.

__________________________________

If you want to read more about the power of place and location, check out Hannah Anderson's compelling read over on the The Gospel Coalition's site, "Finding Our Place: Our Family's Long Quest for Calling and Home."

No More Major Life Decisions

Update: I found my credit card! Three guesses as to where it was, and the first two don't count. In my wallet, you ask? Why, yes, yes it was. Just in a different pocket than normal.  *Palm to forehead.*

Y'all.

I should not be allowed to make anymore major life decisions.  It does crazy things to my brain. 

I texted my brother the other night explaining all that had been going on and he informed me I should just stay in my apartment for the rest of the weekend and not move.  My other friend suggested I find myself a bunker and just hunker down for awhile until my sanity was restored. 

And by major life decision I mean purchasing a new vehicle. 

I have been saving for years for a new vehicle.  While my little Mercury Mariner has been a faithful little car for the last 10 years, I was getting to the point where I was spending more money on repairs than the car was worth.  And when I found myself quite literally sweating through my t-shirt, fearful it wouldn't even survive the drive to the mechanic (thank you, failed fuel injector), I knew I was going to have to move up my timeline.  I was hoping to make it to the end of the year, but that just wasn't going to happen.

A Ford F-150 had long been the dream, but I eventually came to the conclusion I was going to pay a lot of money for a vehicle I only planned on using one part of.  I had no plans to tow or haul anything, so I basically would be spending money on the bed of a truck I never intended to use.  And gas mileage?  Yeah, we all know what gas mileage looks like on trucks.  Lousy.  So I talked myself out of that one. 

After more homework, and test driving, and reading Consumer Reports, and talking to a variety of friends, I made the big decision to buy a Subaru Forester.  I found one I wanted online, promptly headed to the dealer, and 4 hours later, I walked out with the keys to a new vehicle.

My capacity to think straight went downhill after that. 

The day after I bought it, I made plans with my brother and sister-in-law to go with them to a local Irish festival. While on my way there, I discovered I had left my wallet behind at my aunt and uncle's house, for whom I had been house/dog-sitting. 

Never in all my life have I ever left my wallet behind.  Never.  Not once.  It's not like me to forget things or be disorganized.

Being displaced by staying at someone else's house for 10 days probably wasn't helping the cause, shuffling between their house, my apartment and work, but still.  I got to the Irish festival (and even that was questionable because I was so frazzled at this point that I wasn't even entirely sure what road I was on or where I was going) and found a parking space.  But since I was in an unfamiliar vehicle, I had a moment when I couldn't figure out how to unlock the car and get out.  Help me, Jesus, help me.

I managed to make it a few more days with my head barely attached, but that was a minor miracle.  Then yesterday rolled around.

I discovered I had a thumbtack stuck in one of my brand new tires. I haven't even had this car one week! Just my luck.  I called around to both a local tire store and the dealer, to see who had the tire on hand and for what price.  I ended up back at the Subaru dealer and they replaced the tire.

But while I was standing there at the counter to pay for the new tire, rummaging through my wallet (which I had left behind at my aunt and uncle's and now had in my possession again), I discovered my credit card is gone.  Not in its usual spot, not anywhere else in my purse, gone.  Vanished.  I rarely use it, so it would be easy for me to go some time without realizing it's gone.  I called the card company immediately and cancelled, and I still have no idea where it is.

What has happened to my brain?  I leave my wallet behind, I can't find my credit card, I nearly couldn't figure out how to get out of my own vehicle.  I might as well be a cat trying to fight its way out of a paper bag. 

Can you imagine what it will be like if I ever buy a house? Get married? Have children?  All I did was buy a new vehicle and suddenly I can't function.

Say a prayer now for my future husband.  He's going to need all the help he can get.  Because I sure won't be much help at this rate.  

Nerd Alert

There is no shortage of tragedy splattered across the headlines these days.  It can get overwhelming at times, can't it?  Most days I don't bother to watch the evening news because I know all that will greet me is one depressing segment after another.  I don't want to bury my head in the sand and ignore it all, but neither do I want to drown in a black hole of sadness.  There was one headline in particular, however, that struck a peculiar chord of sadness within me:  "The Death of Reading Is Threatening the Soul," by Philip Yancey in this week's Washington Post.  Yancey laments our culture's growing inability to sit and read anything of length thanks to the internet and every other source of digital media which competes for our attention.  Gone are the days when he would sit and read three books a week, he says.  Gone are the days when reading and words and books are what nourished our souls and kept our imaginations alive.   

Now, I'm in no way saying the death of a human being I read about in headlines is on the same playing field as the death of reading.  Do not think me so callous or ridiculous, dear reader.  Read this with the light-hearted tone I intend.  But from a reader and lover of words, I found Yancey's article disheartening, only because I know it rings all too true in my own life, as I see myself less and less inclined to devour books like I did as a child or teenager. 

My friend and co-worker, Jill, and I have established a habit in recent years of keeping a tally of random knowledge.  Our inaugural year consisted of counting the number of Cheez-It boxes I consumed in 12 months. (The total was 26.  I love Cheez-Its, in case you didn't know.)  Jill has a particularly unusual natural hair color, which gets her a lot of compliments.  So we kept a tally of the number of times she got complimented in a year.  Also 26.  This past year we decided to keep track of the number of books we read.  We managed to read 66 books in 12 months between the two of us. 

Maybe death isn't knocking on our doorstep just yet when it comes to reading. 

I am convinced heaven is going to have a spectacular library based on the words of John 21:25, one of my favorite Bible verses, “Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.”

I love how John phrases that – “I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.” Written with just a touch of whimsy, a subtle child-like wonder to his expression. 

But until I get to heaven and can run my fingers along the spines of its countless books, I’ll settle for earth’s libraries, some of my very favorite places on this planet. 

Case in point: can I make this one small, possibly pathetic (depending on whom you ask), confession? I have always loved libraries, even as a child, but my first memory actually crying over one was when I was in college. The local library near the university was undergoing renovations, which meant the entire collection of books had temporarily migrated to an empty store on the outskirts of town. The temporary place was depressing and I recall going there only once. The renovations finally wrapped up and the collection returned to its rightful place. I remember the very first time I set foot in the new library. I walked up the stairs and quietly stood in the open space of the second floor. I felt the tears gathering in my eyes. I couldn’t help myself, I was so overwhelmed. I slowly looked over the new shelves, the neatly ordered books, and smelled the air that is distinctly “library.”

Yes, I own this t-shirt and wear it proudly.

Bliss. 

That is not the last time I have shed a teardrop or two over libraries. I did it this past fall when I walked into the Teton Public Library in Jackson, Wyoming. Same reaction. Walked in, took it all in and felt involuntary tears spring up again. I do it nearly every time I visit the Vanderbilt mansion in Asheville, North Carolina. The Biltmore library is like a scene straight out of Beauty and the Beast. You know, when the Beast flings open the doors of his cavernous library and Belle walks in to see floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, with ladders that lead to more shelves, and balconies that lead to more books. I daydream about having a library like that someday. (Although, that means I probably need to marry someone insanely wealthy. I do not know exactly what those odds are, but I'm keeping my hopes in check.)

Oh, and the Thompson Library on Ohio State University’s campus? There is a reason it is ranked one of the top college libraries in the nation. Their grand reading room - it just makes me want to stand in wonder.  Make a visit when you can.

What can I say? I love words, so why would I not love the places and the people that are keepers of words? It is what stops me from moving into another apartment in another part of the city. Well, one of the reasons at least. I love where I live in general, but a huge selling point for me is that it is across the street from the public library. I probably go there at least once a week, either to return books, pick up new ones or check out movies, use the computer (I live sans internet at my apartment, thus why I go to the library to use theirs), and generally just enjoy the quiet hum that is the public library.  And it's free - what's not to love?   

So, to all you book lovers and non-book lovers: read. And read some more. And read again and again and again until you feel like you're going to go cross-eyed.  Read everything you can get your hands on.  But read deeply and slowly.  Read the classics.  Read the things that stretch your brain and require you to do more than just skim.  Fill your mind to the brim until it overflows.  Park yourself in a chair or flat on your bed and linger over the pages for an hour or two, not just a minute or two.  Hold the books in your hands.  Not Kindles, not Nooks, not iPads, not whatever other e-reader there might be.  Hold the real deal.  Fight the urge to become victim to the decline of reading.  Books are the treasure chests of the world, so do not relent until you have found the buried gold.  And then when you do, start the hunt all over again.

And I won't judge you if you maybe shed a tear or two over a good story.  Or a library.   

My Mad Money Savings Plan

I love saving money.  I like spending it, too, usually on travel, but I love saving it even more so.  If you ask my family, they would say I am a tight-wad.  If you ask me, I'm merely frugal and generally choose not to spend my money on things that most other people spend their money on.  I'm not much of a shopper, so I don't enjoy spending money on clothes, or shoes, or purses, or things like that.  I quit buying books for the most part, and instead make extensive use of the public library.  I'm not a coffee drinker, so I'm not kissing my dollars goodbye every day on a mocha latte.  Heck, I'm not even a good gift-giver, so I don't even really spend that much money on buying things for other people.  I'm just not a fan usually of buying "stuff".  When you live in 350 feet square feet, there really isn't space to acquire much "stuff".

But traveling?  There's my weakness.  Overseas, domestic, fly, drive, spring, summer, fall, winter - wherever, whenever, whatever mode of transportation is most efficient.

About a year ago, when I began planning a return trip to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, I took a look at how much I planned on spending versus how much I needed to save.  I figured if I saved my tax return, the money I made from house/pet-sitting, and any extra money I had from mileage reimbursement from work, I could save a tidy sum.  I would, of course, save some money from my regular paycheck in addition to all of that, but I knew I would need to still set aside a few extra dollars. 

It is at this point I got a little bit of a hare-brained idea. I asked myself, "I wonder how much I could save if I didn't spend any $1 bills I got back in change?"  That's a bit of a strange idea, I realize. But I decided to give it a whirl and see what happened. 

So, the deal was anytime I paid cash for something (which is what I do for all day-to-day spending) and got $1 bills in return, I would set those aside in a jar in my closet.  I started in late December 2015, and by mid-January 2016, I had saved about $80, all in one dollar bills.  By May, I had almost hit the $400 mark. 

After awhile it became a game of sorts, a self-imposed challenge.  I occasionally would need $1s to catch the bus around town, and I thought the bus driver was going to have to pry the bills out of my hand, I hated parting with the ones so much.  I would sometimes intentionally pay for a purchase with a certain amount of $10s or $20s just so I could get more dollar bills back in change.  I was now on a mission.  And I just kept watching the amount slowly grow.  As I got a certain amount set aside, I'd run to the bank and deposit it into my travel account.  Fifty dollars here, forty dollars there, maybe a hundred dollars on the rare occasion.  It would maybe take me a month or two, but I'd eventually getting around to saving a small sum.  I would jot down how much money I deposited and when, so I at least had a basic ledger to track my savings.  

I was loving my new plan and was having a ton of fun with the game.  Maybe it was a long, slow way of saving money, but it was working for me. 

Do you know how much money I saved by the time I went to Jackson last September?

Almost $600.

Think about that  - $600 in less than 10 months!  Just by not spending one dollar bills!

I was gone for two weeks and that amount paid for all of my meals and souvenir money.  It was a fabulous way to just slowly and methodically set money aside and then use that money to splurge on travel plans.

The game continues to this day.  As I save up a certain amount of $1 bills, I deposit them into my travel account.  Save, deposit, save, deposit.  Watch it add up. 

But what about you?  What's your mad money savings plan?  Maybe give my $1 bill challenge a try, and see if you can save $700 in one dollar bills in 12 months.

Creation Need Not Play to An Empty House

Life has been fairly calm as of late, which I'm certainly not complaining about.  In the quiet, though, it's made the little things stand out more so than usual.  Small moments that may seem insignificant or trivial, but ones I am grateful for nonetheless.  May I not be guilty of "despis[ing] the day of small things" (Zechariah 4:10).  I've been taking mental notes of some things here lately for which I am very grateful:

• Matching curtains! Finally! Back when I first moved into my apartment, I purchased some red curtains.  I failed to do the math and didn't buy enough panels.  When I went back to find more of what I bought, they were out.  In light of the shortage, I had been hanging this random strip of black fabric to fill the gap.  I kept checking the store every so often to see if more would come in - and lo and behold!  They got more!  Only took me about two years, but hey, I've finally got matching curtains.
• Purchasing an external hard drive - So, my personal laptop is going to officially turn 14 years old this summer.  Yes, it probably belongs in a museum, and yes, I still use it, and yes, it still works.  Buuuuuuuuut that probably won't always be true.  Figured I should probably be proactive and back everything up onto an external hard drive. It's only been on my to do list for practically 12 months.  
• Solving a problem  - My parents have a Honda Odyssey, which they have a love/hate relationship with.  Most days here lately it leans more toward the hate side.  They get rather frustrated when they find there are seemingly a dozen other Honda Odysseys in the parking lot, all of them looking exactly alike.  It makes finding theirs a bit more difficult.  I decided to solve their problem.  I bought a cheap taxi-like car topper and hand-wrote a sign on it that said, "HEY! This one is yours!" on one side.  I don't think my mom is going to be caught dead putting that thing on top of her van, even if she is annoyed that she can never find it in the seas of Hondas.  But either way, I thought it was a pretty ingenious solution.  I also bought some Ford magnets (we are a Ford family through and through - right up until my parents bought a Honda) to go over the Honda logos.

                                   

• A job I enjoy - I happen to really enjoy my job.  That hasn't always been true with this particular job I've been in now for over four years, but I genuinely enjoy getting up and going to work these days.
• Cheap gas! I was excited to see that gas was as low as $1.69, but then it got even better when I pulled up to the pump and it was listed at $1.63.  Somebody wasn't doing their job, but I wasn't going to complain.
• Just Pies - any time Just Pies is involved, it's always a good thing.  My sweet friend Jill surprised me with a strawberry rhubarb pie the other day.  So much amazingness packed inside a pie crust. 
• Dinner with Myrt - I have a dear friend from church, a woman I adore, who will turn 84-years old this May.  I had dinner with her the other night, and as I sat across the table from her, I just wanted to burst into tears, I got so overwhelmed with how grateful I am for her and how much I love her.
• Cable TV - I don't have cable at my own apartment, but I'm currently house/pet-sitting for some friends.  They have cable.  And I'm reminded of why I don't have cable at my apartment.  BECAUSE I AM AN UNPRODUCTIVE CITIZEN OF SOCIETY WHEN I HAVE CABLE. Seriously, I watch more movies on Hallmark Channel than what is deemed healthy. I turn into a lazy bum because all I do is sit around and watch TV.
• Scrapbooking - I finally got around to finishing my scrapbook of my September Wyoming trip. 
• I got crafty - I had a stash of old, empty wine bottles I had been wanting to paint and do something crafty with.  I dug through my paint drawer, discovered I had some enamel paint, which is the kind you can paint on and then bake the item in order to seal it.  So I painted my wine bottles all black, stuck them in the oven and waited for the magic to happen.  I honestly thought I would take them out of the oven and angels would descend from on high and shine a light on their awesomeness.  But they looked exactly the same as when I put them in the oven.  So, no angels, but they do make for nice racks for my bracelets. 

• Regular TV - You know, that thing people watch when they don't have cable.  I'm enamored with two shows: Victoria and This Is Us. I now plan my entire Sunday and Tuesday evenings around these shows.  Seriously, get on the Victoria and This Is Us train if you haven't already.
• Good books - I recently read The Perfect Horse, The Eighty-Dollar Champion and The Martian.  The first two are exceptional non-fiction stories.  Truly gifted story-telling.  And The Martian? Quite possibly one of the funniest books I have ever read.  It now sits on my all-time favorites list.  I had read it a year or two ago and decided to re-read it last month.  Still just as funny.
• Absent neighbors - Neighbors come and go in my apartment complex.  There was one set of neighbors who lived above me - how shall I put it? - let's just say I was very aware of their love life.  Very.  They have since been evicted, I'm assuming for reasons other than their crazy loud love life.  The people who now live there are in a band.  Yes.  Guitar- and bongo-playing kind of band.  I've heard enough "Proud Mary" and other classic rock songs to last me a lifetime.  They've been gone for the last two weeks.  Can't say that I'm the least bit bothered by this fact.
• My niece and her birthday party - One of my nieces recently turned five.  She insisted on a Star Wars theme.  She was decked out in a Princess Leia costume and went running around yielding a light-saber.  But the best part?  Her birthday cake.  Which was Tinker Bell.  May the fairy dust be with you.  

• Tears spilled over a friend I still miss - As hard as it is for me to believe, it will be five years tomorrow since Jonathan died. A couple of weeks back, our worship band at church sang the song "Never Once" by Matt Redman, which also happened to be a song that was played at Jonathan's funeral.  I cried through most of it.  I still miss him.  One of my most profound regrets in life is that I have no pictures of Jonathan and I together.  I don't know why that bothers me so much, but I just wish I had a picture of the two of us together.  It wouldn't make the reality of him being gone any less real - and it doesn't make the memories of him any less real by not having a tangible photo - but I still wish.  But regardless, I'm thankful for my friend and the tender memories of him.  

It's the little things that add up over time, that make a dent, that remind us of the small things that make up the big things. I'm grateful for the small things.

“We are here to abet creation and to witness it, to notice each thing so each thing gets noticed. Together we notice not only each mountain shadow and each stone on the beach but we notice each other's beautiful face and complex nature so that creation need not play to an empty house.” - Anne Dillard   

The Mystery of the Utility Pole "Sweaters"

I kind of love my city.

I think I spent years trying to stay away from it, terrified of coming home and somehow winding up stuck. But after years of trekking around the country and the globe, I have become more and more partial to my town with each passing year.  Sometimes it works that the more you travel, the less appealing your hometown feels.  It can start to feel small and suffocating.  Or the reverse can be true, which is what happened in my case.  The more I traveled and the more I saw the world, the more I came to appreciate what was right in front me.  Years ago I was so resistant to come home to this place, but now I'm usually eager to get back.  My city isn't a giant city like Atlanta, LA or New York, all of which I don't mind visiting, but I have zero interest in ever living in such places.  Too many people, too many cars, too much traffic, and just generally too much.   My town is a nice mid-sized city, with plenty to do, but not so big you feel overwhelmed by it all.  You can reach the opposite side of the city within 25-30 minutes with minimal effort, and not want to commit an act of road rage in the process (generally speaking).  

And I love my neighborhood.  It's quiet, but still conveniently located to everything I need - library, work, grocery store, church, family, etc.  It's just a bus ride away from the downtown area, but maybe only a 30 minute drive to the wide open spaces of the country.  

But like every city, it has its quirks and its touch of character.

Take for instance these utility poles.


You're probably thinking, Why the heck are there bands of yarn wrapped around these things?

Good question.

I wondered the same thing.

I walk by them every time I go to the gym.  I noticed earlier this summer there was a string of 3-4 utility poles slowly being wrapped up in these "sweaters" of sorts.  The adjacent chain link fence was also acquiring little knitted flowers and potholders.  With each passing week, there would be more and more accessories added to the poles and fence.

I found it so perplexing, and for the life of me, I could not figure out why anyone would ever crochet these things just to wrap them around a utility pole.

I inquired with co-workers and friends, Any ideas why someone is stitching all this yarn for the utility poles?  The theories abounded.  It's an alien yarn cartel one co-worker said.  I myself wondered if it was some sort of secret code?  Some sort of sign to neighboring crocheting gangs - Back off! This is our turf!  We'll knit you into a knot if you get close!  Was it a signal for some sort of top secret ops?  I mean, I really had no idea why someone would go to these lengths to create this stuff and then just wrap it around a random post.

So I decided to leave a note for this mythical knitter.

To the person who is knitting "sweaters" for the utility poles,

I walk by here often and noticed the growing collection of colorful items making their way around the poles and chain link fences.  Just out of curiosity  - why? 

Sincerely, 
Puzzled observer

I slipped my note into a Ziploc bag so it wouldn't get wet should it rain, tacked it to a utility pole a couple of weeks ago and awaited an answer.

No response.

Few more days.

No response.

And then!  

To my surprise, a note in return!  I nearly started jumping up and down right there on the sidewalk, abnormally and oddly giddy that this little exchange of letters between strangers was occurring.  

Puzzled observer,

Loved your question! There isn't just one answer to explain the motivation behind the yarn bombing.  That's what it's called - it's a real thing! So I'll run down the list:

• I'm for all for anything that causes a driver to lift their foot from the pedal - even if slightly - to take pause and slow down.  Especially here where the curbs are non-existent.  
• I always felt this stretch of sidewalk with the chain link fence could use a little fun.
• My grandmother grew up and was a 1920s flapper in this same neighborhood I now call home.  She taught me how to knit and crochet as a small girl. I like to think a little of her is in every stitch.  
• I like to knit and crochet, but I'm not skilled enough to make sweaters.  These are easier!  
• It keeps me out of the bars.  
• It makes me happy to think someone smiles because they like it or think it's silly.

Enjoy your walks!

Sincerely,

Knitting and crocheting 

Mystery solved!  I haven't decided if I'll write another note in return - not sure what I would say other than Thanks for adding a curious little mystery to my life!  

Who knew yarn-bombing was such a thing.  Makes my city that much more entertaining.  And we all need a little mystery in our lives now and then.      

A Series of Palm-to-Forehead Moments

We've all had them.  Those moments when you walk away from a conversation or an interaction, and you smack yourself on the forehead and mutter under your breath, "You idiot."  Those moments when you realize in hindsight that you completely missed a social cue or stuck your foot in your mouth.  Those moments when you are so completely oblivious that you said or did anything stupid, and it's not until much, much, much later that it ever even dawns on you.  You know, those moments.

I'm a collector of those kinds of moments.  Particularly with the male gender.

Exhibit A:

Years ago, maybe sometime when I was in grad school, I went off to a dentist appointment.  This was a dentist that most of my family went to, and I had seen him maybe a couple of times before.  Nice guy, on the younger side, not married.  It seemed almost every time I went into the office, though, either his assistant or the dentist himself asked if I was single/dating/married.  Sometimes I often thought annoyingly, "What is with you people? Why does everyone feel such an incessant need to know my relationship status every time I walk in here?" So then one time, I'm chatting with the dentist, and he gets to talking about music and how a buddy of his is playing in a band at a venue in town that coming weekend.  He told me the times and the name of the venue, said I should come check out.  I didn't think much of it, and I said yeah, maybe I'll ask my friend if she wants to come with me, even though I really had no intention of pursuing the idea.  I thought he was just making general conversation.  I, of course, didn't go to the concert that weekend, but I really didn't give the whole thing another thought.

So, about a year or so later I'm back in the office.  The same song and dance - everybody's asking me about my relationship status and I'm still wondering why these people are so freakin' concerned about it.

And then it dawns on me.  Waaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit a minute.  Was that a very subtle pick up line of some kind a YEAR ago when he was asking me to come check out his friend's band??  Was he interested and I just completely missed the boat??

Yes, palm to forehead.

Exhibit B:

Then there was that one time at the grocery store.  I'm minding my own business, doing my usual weekly shopping.  I see this rather tall, good-looking guy come around the corner, pushing a shopping cart.  Has a ball cap on, in workout clothes.  I definitely did a double-take, but continued to go on my way.  He then stops me and says, "Excuse me, do you know where the honey is?"  Again, me and my oblivious self just thought he genuinely wanted to know where the honey was.  I said, "Nope, sorry," and kept right on walking.

I walk out of the store, unload my groceries into my car.  And then it dawns on me again.  Waaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit a minute.  Was that a very subtle pick up line YET AGAIN that I totally missed??  I mean, what guy wanders around the grocery store and then asks a random girl where the honey is?  That's not normal, right?  I guess maybe it could have been a legitimate question, but I don't think it was?  Why do these things keep happening?

Another palm to forehead moment.

Exhibit C:

An acquaintance of mine had been talking to me for almost a year about this guy she knew, a former college roommate of her husband.  She kept pestering me about the two of us meeting, thought we would be a good match, so I was finally like, "Okay, okay.  I'll meet him."

So, the four of us - me, my friend, her husband, and the husband's friend - all gather together at my friend's house.  We're all shooting the breeze, getting to know one another, the friend's kids are playing outside. You know, a casual, relaxed, no pressure interaction. We're winding down for the day, and I was getting ready to head out the door.  One of our final conversations was about technology and social media and the like. One of my favorite topics.  If you know me, that last line was entirely sarcastic.  I avoid social media like the plague and I intentionally have no internet at my apartment.  I'm currently sitting at the public library writing this post.

I left the conversation, bid adieu to everyone, and then never heard a peep from my friend or the college roommate about anything further.  That struck me kind of odd, given that my friend had been talking about this guy for so long.  Suddenly now there was radio silence.  Which was fine by me because I don't know that I was all that interested.  But nevertheless.  The real kicker was when I got home and did some detective work. I Googled the guy.  I find out he works for a tech firm.

He's the Chief.Technical.Officer for a digital.marketing.firm.

Translation: the guy eats, sleeps and breathes all of the things I try to avoid on a regular basis.

I thought of the scene from National Treasure, when Ben and Riley are trying to convince Abigail that there is an invisible map on the back of the Declaration of Independence.  As they rattle off facts, each one proving more and more far-fetched to Abigail, Riley would say, "That's where we lost the FBI."  "Annnnnd that's where we lost the Department of Homeland Security."

I'm pretty sure when I uttered the words, "I don't have internet," the Chief Technical Officer was like, "And that's where we lost all hope of this relationship going anywhere."

Palm to forehead.

I'm sure given time, I will eventually experience Exhibits D-Z.  What can I say?  Sometimes I am just blissfully unaware of how these social interactions are supposed to work.  Cut me some slack.

Some day, somebody's bound to come along, one who won't find me smacking my palm to my forehead after I have a conversation with him.

A girl can hope, right?        

You Know You Need a New Phone When...

I was raised to believe that you maybe pay a little bit more to buy a quality product, and then take really good care of it so that it lasts forever.

I take that approach to heart.

As evidenced by my laptop.  Which will turn 13 years old this summer.  Still working like a champ.  I mean, I may not always be able to connect to modern Wi-Fi, but minor detail.

Let's also not forget the shoes I wear to the gym, which will turn 11 this year.  My feet are living the dream.

I have another pair of black, semi-dressy slip-on shoes that will turn 10, shoes which I have super-glued back together more times than are necessary.  But these are probably my very favorite shoes.  They have been with me to every country I have ever visited, having bought them just before I went to Russia in 2006.  And I have never, ever found another pair like them.  I will go into mourning and wear black for a year when they finally kick the bucket.  But until then, I am holding onto them for dear life, with obvious super glue patches and all.

There's the faded red t-shirt I have had since I was a child (sadly or not sadly, I can still fit in it comfortably).  It has a giant horseshoe on it with a draft horse walking through the center.  I remember going to draft horse pulls a lot as a kid, which is where I think I acquired it.  It's so soft, so comfy, worn-in just so.  So, on the conservative side, maybe a good 20 years old?

And then there is my smartphone.

Which will be 4-years old this May.

For those of you who like to have the latest and greatest technology, your palms probably just broke out in a sweat and you felt anxiety settle in on my behalf.

Don't worry, the feeling will fade.  

I have a love/hate relationship with my phone.  I went kicking and screaming when I had to upgrade to this phone, so reluctant to join the rest of the world and their smartphone madness.  I was very partial to my basic, slide-keyboard phone, that was working just fine, thank you very much.  But I was getting ready to head back to Kenya at the time, and for a variety of reasons, it really did make sense for me to get something that was a little more useful overseas than my little Samsung Rogue.

I switched over to my current smartphone before I went to Kenya back in 2012, but I kept my Rogue on hand.  After I got back, I switched back to my Rogue, probably out of stubbornness because I didn't want to pay the data fee that was now attached to my newly-acquired smartphone.

I have noticed, however, in recent months that a vast majority of apps no longer work on my phone.  My bank app quit working because it said it was no longer compatible with my phone.  I uninstalled a couple of apps where I listened to sermons and podcasts because my whole phone would crash when I tried to open them.  Alas, the old gray mare ain't what she used to be.  

Let's take the ESPN app, for example.

It still loads on my phone and I can still get current scores.  But none of the headlines are current.  

The headline now reads "Warriors Hold Off Clips", with a picture of Blake Griffin.

Which happened roughly 367 days ago.

That apparently is the last time my ESPN app experienced an update.  And when I try to get the latest version from the app store, I get that oh-so-frequent error, "This is not compatible with your phone."

But I'm not complaining.

So long as I can text and make calls, my little phone and I will continue on our merry way.  

Because who cares if ESPN doesn't load right when you've got Sports Illustrated, right?!

Three Things I Should Be a Spokesperson For

My last post was about two things.  I figure I should continue the trend and expand on another three things I have strong affections for.

We all have our favorites in life - favorite restaurants, favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite places, etc.  And I am no different.  Let's discuss three things that somebody out there should seriously consider hiring me as a spokesperson for.

1) Cheez-Its.  This is serious, people. If you know me at all, you are well aware of this love affair. I am usually never far from a box of these cheesy bits of amazingness.  On a really good month, I usually have a box in my car, a box at my apartment, and a box in my office drawer.  I usually receive Cheez-Its for birthday and Christmas gifts.  I think every trip I have taken overseas for the last several years (or any domestic road trip for that matter) has without fail included a box of Cheez-Its somewhere in a suitcase or carryon.  And let's make one thing very clear - I don't do any kind of Cheez-It except the original kind.  Not the ones with special characters or letter printed on them, not the reduced fat ones, not the groovy ones, none of that.  Original is the only way to go and anything less than that is just not worth bothering about.  

For kicks I decided to track my Cheez-It intake for 12 months, starting a year ago this month. Roughly 365 days later and TWENTY-SIX boxes of Cheez-Its later, I am still not sick of eating them, which my mother finds very perplexing, and maybe slightly concerning.  I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who eat way more Cheez-Its than I do, but I thought 26 boxes was a solid effort.  

If I had Twitter, I would tweet Kellogg's and say, "Hire me. #ILoveCheezIts. I have the data to prove it."
 

2) George Foreman Grill.  Alright, probably an odd one, but nevertheless.  This thing is amazing.  And you would be amazed at what you can cook/reheat on this thing.  I've reheated leftover mashed potatoes, I've reheated rice (a bit messy but totally possible), I've warmed up cookies, I've toasted bagels and bread on it, I've grilled stuffed pita bread on it.  Heck, I even took a Hershey's Kiss off the top of one of my mom's cookies the other day, stuck it on the grill, just to melt it just a tad. It was perfect.  I do occasionally use it for what it's actually intended - like grilling normal things such as chicken.  Some of you are probably wondering, "Courtney, why on earth do you use it to reheat all these random things??" Well, when you don't have a microwave, you have to come up with alternative solutions.  It takes too long for the oven to heat up, so the George Foreman is my go-to option when I want a quick reheat.  Works like a charm.  I should start my own Youtube channel on all the things you could make with a George Foreman.

3) Just Pies. On a cabinet in my kitchen, I have the business hours for three places - the gym, the library, and Just Pies.  This should tell you a lot.  Total and complete bliss. I want to either cry when I eat one of these things I'm so overwhelmed by their goodness, or I just want to jump up and down with giddiness.  I'm starting to lose track of the number of times when I will hop in the car and head out for the express purpose of getting a pie from this place.  I did it last week at work - I was craving chocolate something fierce and had zero sweets in my desk drawer.  So, I went very much out of my way to go buy a pie. Which I then kept all to myself and shared with no one.  My day was complete.  I did the same thing this past Saturday.  And the really great thing is that they have these little baby pies, which can be cut up into about four small slices.  Just my size.  
  

So, Kellogg's, George or Just Pies - if you ever read this and want to hire me, don't hesitate to contact me.  

Thursday Nights Are for Two Things

Mondays are usually my nights to hit the gym with my personal trainer and then come home and catch up on all the things I've been procrastinating on.  Tuesday nights are for the gym and then writing a Bible study I've been working on, or maybe going to the library to catch up on emails. (I have no internet at my apartment so I have to retreat elsewhere when I need to respond at length to people.)  Wednesday nights are set aside for another round at the gym and maybe catching up on phone calls, writing notes to friends, watching a movie, maybe seeing my parents for dinner.  (Don't be impressed by my efforts to make it into the gym often. I am a reluctant member at times. I'm only compelled to go because I vowed I was never going to go through this again.)  Friday nights are for mentally checking out.  I usually skip the gym and settle in for the evening with a good book or movie, maybe exert some effort to cook something decent.  Saturdays tend to look the same.  Sunday evenings are spent mentally gearing up for the coming week, possibly channel surfing, and generally cleaning my apartment, paying bills, etc.  And organizing things - that falls on just about every evening, as I really love to sort, clean and organize things.  Even with only 350 square feet of living space, I still find things to rearrange and tidy.  

And then there are Thursday nights.  

Thursday nights are extra special.  

They are set aside for two very important things:

Sports Illustrated and Jesus.  

I feel slightly irreverent for even putting those things in the same sentence, as if I'm going to get struck by lightning for even thinking about putting them on the same level.

But seriously. Thursday nights are kinda sorta my favorite time of the week.  

The Jesus part involves my women's Bible study.  I've been leading this Bible study for I don't know how many years now.  I love these women.  I love their hearts. I love their devotion in showing up every Thursday night and occasionally listening to me ramble.  I love laughing with them.  I love telling stories with them.  I love talking about Jesus with them.  We talk about the hard things in life, the things that leave us feeling a bit raw on the inside, the things that we wouldn't breathe out loud to anyone else.  It makes for worthwhile time and I wouldn't trade that time with them.    

And then there is Sports Illustrated.  Now, don't mistake me for a super serious sports fan.  I'm not.  But I love good stories and good storytelling.  And Sports Illustrated delivers on good stories and good storytelling by good writers.  I practically want to sprint to my mailbox every Thursday after I get off work because this is the magical day on which the magazine is delivered.  As I stick the key in my mailbox and slowly swing open the door, there is probably a split second where I stop breathing, half afraid that I'm going to open it and find that the mailman failed to deliver it for some reason.  But there it is, 9 times out of 10, tucked safely in the confines of mailbox #26.  I sometimes want to quietly jump up and down and clap my hands I'm so excited about getting it.

It makes me think of Meg Ryan in the movie You've Got Mail. (How many times I have now quoted this movie? Here, here and probably a variety of other occasions. It never gets old.)  Her character, Kathleen Kelly, is corresponding with Tom Hanks' character, back in the days of AOL and chat rooms: "What will NY152 (that's Tom) say today, I wonder. I turn on my computer. I wait impatiently as it connects. I go online, and my breath catches in my chest until I hear three little words: You've got mail. I hear nothing. Not even a sound on the streets of New York, just the beating of my own heart. I have mail. From you."

I've got mail.  From Sports Illustrated.

I have to force myself to not abandon other tasks and immediately sit down and start reading it as soon as I get back to my apartment.  There's usually a laundry list of things I have to accomplish before I go to Bible study later in the evening, so I try to power through those and then head off to study.  I meet with the girls, we laugh, we cry, we talk about Jesus, we get our fill.  

And then when I get back home, I change into my pajamas, crawl into bed, curl up and unfurl the pages of Sports Illustrated, faithful to read it from cover to cover, usually staying up way later than I normally do because I just can't stand not reading the whole thing in one sitting.  If you try to call me on a Thursday night, you will probably get my voicemail, with your call to be returned on a night other than a Thursday.

"Sign of the Apocalypse" is probably my favorite part, even though it only takes up about 2 square inches of real estate.  Cracks me up nearly every time.  And that Yogi Berra /obituary/tribute that Tom Verducci wrote here awhile back right after Yogi died?  I nearly wanted to cry after I read it.  Before I read that tribute, about all I knew about Yogi Berra was that he played baseball.  And I really don't like baseball.  But after I read Verducci's column, I was wishing I loved baseball more and had been best friends with the man, such an endearing image was presented of Yogi Berra.  Same way with Rick Reilly's latest article on the Warriors and Steph Curry.  Amazing writing.  I also don't care for pro basketball, but I now have a Post-It note sitting on my desk with the dates of when the Warriors play next. 

And pictures.  I probably have a dozen or more photos that I have ripped out of the pages of SI, using a glue stick to tack them down to this notebook I keep of magazine articles and random things I want to keep. (It's like the waaaaaay old school version of Pinterest.  You know, the non-digital version that involves scissors, paper and glue.)  I probably cut out three or four just this past year alone thanks to American Pharoah.      

I secretly want to contact Sports Illustrated and gush about how much I love their magazine, and how I carve out a chunk of time just to read their magazine.  Is that weird?  Probably if I had any form of social media, I could actually improve my chances of making my love known to them by tweeting them or posting a message on Facebook. 

But  my sincere apologies, SI.  Even you aren't worth creating a social media account for.  There are limits to my affection for you.

But just know that my Thursdays will always belong to you.  After Jesus, of course.                      

Why I Said No to Social Media

There are generally four acceptable ways of getting in touch with me:
1) Email
2) Phone (Although, that can be questionable some days, as I don't always carry my phone.)
3) US Postal Service
4) Showing up on my doorstep, in person.

You'll notice what this list does not include:
1) Facebook
2) Twitter
3) Instagram
4) LinkedIn
5) Basically any form of social media (minus this blog, which I don't really count because it's not actually all that social.  It's more of a one-way street, and I get maybe three comments a year.  I don't think that really qualifies as a conversation or anything resembling "social".)

Around this time about 5 years ago, I began exiting social media.  Goodbye, Facebook.  Goodbye, LinkedIn.  I was never on Twitter to begin with, so that was easy.  Instagram came on board later, but then I would eventually delete that one as well.  Nothing cataclysmic had happened to warrant the exodus - there was no bullying, there was no massive and public breakup with a boyfriend, there was no privacy breach, nor any other dramatic reason that sometimes warrants people deleting their accounts.

I just simply knew me.

I knew what I was becoming because of social media, the ways I would obsess over whether I had any notifications or not.  The ways I would scroll through page after page, looking at the highlight reels of my friends' lives and wondering why I didn't have what they had.  The ways my insecurities would rise to the surface and threaten to choke me.  The ways I would feel the pangs of jealousy take root when I would see friends getting engaged, only to stare down at my own ring finger and see it empty.  The ways I wanted the whole world to see me, a desire rooted deep in narcissism, but in the next breath I wanted to retreat and hide because I didn't want the world to know anything about me. (When I turned 24, I was very anti-posting my birthday on Facebook, for whatever reason.  But then when hardly anyone remembered my birthday and or sent any birthday wishes, I got super annoyed and had a serious pity party. I have never claimed to be totally rational.)  The ways I would waste time and precious brain space obsessing over all the wrong things.  So, yeah, I knew me.

I know me.

And I knew social media wasn't worth the exchange I was making.  I also didn't care to have so much information out there in cyberspace about me.  Granted, it was self-moderated information, but it was out there nonetheless.  (So maybe there's a little bit of the thought of Big Brother hanging out there as well.  But then I have this blog where I'm willing to spill my guts?  Also makes no sense, I know.)

Do I think Facebook and Twitter and all of that is evil and of the devil? No.  Do I think they are going to be the death of society? Maybe.  Maybe at least the death of our ability to actually have a conversation with another human being in the flesh and instead of on a screen.  I've always equated social media and our culture to the frog in the lukewarm water.  We've been so accepting and so enamored with social media that one day I fear we will wake up and find that we just died a long, slow painful death, just like that frog in that lukewarm water.  Do I think I will never, ever, ever, ever have a social media account again?  No.  Who knows what reasons may arise in the future that might warrant opening an account.  I can't really even fathom what those reasons might be right now, but I'm not ruling out the possibility.  Do I think social media has no place in our lives? No.  It has a place, and I see the value in it for businesses and non-profits and organizations, a means of connecting with a world, your customer immediately at your fingertips. 

But for now, I know me.  And I know me and social media don't need to mix.  So, I won't even attempt to hold up the façade I would surely work so very hard to create if I had a Facebook account.  It would be a charade.  And I'm not a big fan of charades.  I'll spare myself that misery.

Should you find you need to reach out to me or talk with me, spare yourself the hassle of searching for my Facebook profile.  Your searching will be in vain and your search bar will come up with "No results found".

But you're always welcome to find me in the flesh, and have a conversation with me that involves eyes and ears and spoken words. That's my kind of social media.           

Some battles don’t need to be waged. We don’t have to consume the lives of others through social media. And when we do, we should keep in mind that we’re only seeing a small slice, often the best slice. People post about the good times, that fun family vacation with the loving husband and angelic kids. Chaos might have broken out minutes before or after the photo, but that Kodak moment is what everyone sees. - Kim Cash Tate, "Social Media Heart Check" 

Pearl Harbor Started It All

Pearl Harbor started it all, years ago.  The smashed penny version of Pearl Harbor, that is.  That one is what started what has become my smashed penny collection, mementos of the many corners of the world I have visited.

I have this hazy vague memory of finding that first smashed penny on my grandparents' kitchen table, mixed in with the random assortment of knick-knacks, Saltine crackers, jars of peanut butter and papers that usually got shuffled around their kitchen table.  They had visited Pearl Harbor in the late 70s, a pit stop along the way to New Zealand and Australia.  Little did they know their decision to pop a few coins into a machine all those years ago would launch their granddaughter's love of hunting down and collecting these pocket-sized souvenirs.  Maybe it's a weird collection to some.  I've definitely gotten a few confused looks from folks when I tell them I collect smashed pennies.  Some people have no idea what they are, let alone why anyone would bother collecting them.  It usually makes me sound like a complete nerd, but you know, whatever.          

My current collection hovers somewhere north of 120 (maybe 130 by now?) pennies.  Some are different designs from the same location, so that doesn't mean they represent 120 distinct locations, but they do represent a fairly wide variety of places I have visited.  I don't mind if other people bring me coins from their own travels, but generally speaking, I try only to collect coins from places I have personally been to. 




Part of my international collection - Auckland and Moscow

I remember the summer I spent in Russia, there
with a handful of other college students.  At the end of the trip, we bummed around Moscow for a few extra days.  We traipsed around Red Square and squeezed ourselves through the closing doors of a few metros and a whole lot of places in between.  As much as I was enjoying Moscow, I was eager to get out of the country.  It had been a long, hard summer - and I wasn't too keen on sticking around much longer.  But there we were in St. Basil's Cathedral, climbing stair step after stair step.  My roommate that summer, Tiffany, comes around the corner, proudly announcing she had found a smashed penny machine.  Clarification: smashed ruble machine, in this instance.  I didn't even know they had these machines in other countries, as I just assumed it was an American thing.  It was probably a seemingly insignificant find to the rest of the world, but I was delighted to find one of these machines stashed up in the stairwell of this centuries-old cathedral.     

The collection has continued to grow since that first one my grandparents brought back from Pearl Harbor - New Zealand, Jackson Hole, Alaska, Florida, random little towns scattered across Ohio - they have all been added.  I'm sure many more will be added, reminders of the adventures and the memories.  Fifty cents and a smashed penny later is a small price to pay to hold the memories close, to mark the moments that have shaped my life.  (And don't worry, there's an app for that.)

Yes, I'm nerdy enough to have them all enclosed in specially-
made display booklets.