Dispatches: The holiday travel edition

In a couple of hours, I’ll hop in the car and begin the 4-hour long drive to my parents’ house. This year will mark a first in our Thanksgiving celebrations in that it will likely just be our immediate family, meaning me, my parents, brother, sis-in-law, and nephew. Hopefully, that will mean lower stress, but we’ll see.

But I haven’t forgotten about Dispatches! Who’s ready? OK. Here. we. go.

• I tried to sleep in this morning, but only made it until about 6:30 a.m. I’m guessing this means that I am officially old. I didn’t get up then, but still, I was wide awake. Sad. Sad. Sad.

• I’m considering taking my pillow with me to my parents’ house. Please don’t call me high maintenance! I just have a tough time with pillows and LOVE my memory foam pillow. Is that rude? (In addition, don’t tell my parents, but the mattress on the bed in my old room hurts my back. This also points to me being old.)

• I just saw coverage of O’Hare on the national news. I am 100% thankful that I don’t have to fly anywhere for the holiday. I do have to drive and the stretch of I-24 I drive through Kentucky is heavily patrolled and will likely be very busy. This does not take away from its boringness.

• Because I’m traveling, I’ll likely be listening to XM part of the way—especially the comedy stations. Expect to hear me trying to tell you some of the funnier stand-up jokes in the weeks to follow. Yes, I’m aware I’m not exactly funny. I’m aware you probably had to be there for it to be funny. But I’m still telling you.

• I’m waiting to watch Adam Lambert perform on the CBS Early Show. He’s wearing very tight leather pants and has a pompadour. My question is how he makes his hair stick up like that, because try as I might, mine doesn’t. Even when I dry it upside down.

• Is it bad that I’m traveling to MO with about 5 pairs of shoes for 4 days? There’s brown boots, black shoes, Converse, heels, and running shoes. Too much? Oh, well. I’m not flying, so it doesn’t matter! And you don’t have to carry the suitcase, so you can’t complain. Likewise, neither can I. . .

• When I get home this afternoon, I have a feeling my mom and I will be baking something. Since I was a child, she’s let me hep her in the kitchen, though when I was really little, it involved mostly watching. I just like the togetherness of cooking with her. We may not make anything but old family favorites, but I’m still looking forward to it.

Well, I’m off of here. I have to get ready for the day, get gas in the car, and get on the road to Missouri. I may get bored, so you guys should entertain me. I-24 in western KY is LONG and BORING!

Have a happy Thanksgiving Eve, all.

 

 

Thankfulness is what I long for.

Seeing that I’m feeling a bit uninspired this morning regarding what to write, I thought I’d find a nice little Thanksgiving meme and force you to read it.

(OK, so I can’t force any of you to do anything you don’t want to do, but it’s what I’m posting today. Deal with it)

1. Which do you like better: hosting Thanksgiving at your home, or going elsewhere?
So for all of my adult life, I’ve lived within driving distance of my parents’ house and am expected to go there, seeing that I’m not married and don’t have another side of the family to split my time between. I do a pre-Thanksgiving dinner with friends at my house and love hosting it. I like it better when people come to my parents’ house for the holiday, too, because generally, if we went to my mom’s side of the family that meant driving for 45 minutes and trying not to be late so no one would be mad. Hosting seems lower stress, as weird as that sounds.

2. Do you buy a fresh or frozen turkey? Organic? Free-range?
For my pre-Thanksgiving, I bought an 8 lb frozen turkey breast and cooked it in chicken broth, a butter rosemary rub, salt and pepper. Simple and yummy. My mom also uses frozen turkey. My aunt always smoked the turkey in her smoker.

3. Do you make stuffing or dressing? What kind?
Further proving to some of you that I am “unAmerican,” I don’t eat either. I know; I know. It’s like the official side dish of Thanksgiving! But I don’t like it. Mushy bread skeeves me out for some reason. So I don’t eat it and I don’t make it. But I hear my friend Rachel makes the best dressing EVER! This is why she will always be invited to my Thanksgiving meals.

4. Sweet potato pie or pumpkin pie?
Um, pumpkin. I’ve never had Sweet potato pie. But I also don’t make pumpkin pie. Buy the frozen one! They’re just as good!

5. Are leftovers a blessing or a curse?
A little of both. It’s nice to have stuff and know you don’t have to cook. But when you’re one person and there’s a lot of leftovers. . . not cool. You get tired of them after 2 meals, if you make it that long.

6. What side dishes are a must-have in your family?
Hmm. . . at my mom’s house, it’s baked corn, her green beans, dressing, homemade bread or rolls, salad, mashed potatoes and sometimes hashbrown casserole. We like potatoes. At my aunt’s house, it’s pasta house salad, green beans, fruit salad, dressing, mashed potatoes, and macaroni and cheese. And usually deviled eggs.

7. What do you wish you had that might make Thanksgiving easier?
Two ovens.

8. If/when you go to someone else’s house for the holiday, do you usually bring a dish? If so, what is it?
I feel weird showing up empty handed for meals! If I’m making it, I usually do some sort of garden salad or a dessert. I’m the official salad maker in my family and we like salad.

9. What do you wish one of your guests would bring to your house?
Good attitudes. I also hope Jason and Amber bring Rock Band. It’s a highlight for me.

10. What do you wish one of your guests would NOT bring to your house?
Drama, complaints, stupidity.

11. Do you stick with a particular menu from year to year, or do you mix it up?
Mix it up! Have the perennial favorites, but always, always, always try something new!

12. Is Thanksgiving a religious or secular holiday in your home?
Being who we are, it’s hard for my family to give thanksgiving without expressing our thanks to God. One of my favorite moments when we have Thanksgiving with the Crows is when my uncle or my dad prays, thanking God first and foremost for giving us His Son and all the blessings He’s bestowed this year and throughout our lives.

13. Share one Thanksgiving tradition.
My family doesn’t do the whole go around the table and tell what you’re thankful for. Rock Band has become a tradition of sorts for my brother and me. At my aunt’s, the tradition is watching football.

14. Share one Thanksgiving memory.
Just one? Hmm. There was the time that as we were taking the last bit of bread out of the oven at my mom’s house the heating element caught on fire and burnt in two. It got my mom out of cooking for a good couple of days until my dad bought a new heating element and replaced it (he’s handy like that). Then there’s the year my brother and I were about the only people our age at a Crow Thanksgiving at my parents’ house. So we took our food downstairs and watched a Rambo marathon. I don’t even really like Rambo, but we had such a good time that year and I can’t even remember why!

15. Name five things you’re thankful for.
Family, friends (including all of you), having a job that more than provides for my needs, Cherry Coke Zero, my dog (even if she is an extreme weirdo).

Enjoy!

 

The joy is in the journey.

It’s Monday of a holiday week. I’m only working Monday and Tuesday, which means today just had to be interesting. That’s just the way these things go in my life.

First, I managed to get myself dressed and ready in a somewhat timely manner. I had put my lunch together the night before (yay, me!) and basically only had to grab it, my coat, my purse and get out the door this morning. Yet, when I got to my car and was piling the stuff into my cars passenger’s seat, I realized I had my camera in my hand. . . .um, what? My camera. Just what was I expecting to take pictures of? The crazy things that happen at work? My office? What?!

I can only surmise that my camera was sitting on the table next to my front door, and in my state of mind, I thought that meant I needed to pick it up. In my defense, I do generally keep my camera in my purse just in case a moment deserving of a picture arises (like this one, during which teen girls gave me weird looks, but I didn’t care!).

Then, I got in the car and on my way. I was happy to realize that for once, I was leaving BEFORE the bus arrived at my complex to pick up the students! This, my friends, rarely happens. Finally on my way, I ended up trying to merge into a lane on the interstate with a white pick-up truck with a camper shell in the lane to my left. He wasn’t driving all that fast, but just fast enough to be even with the back tires of my car. When I sped up to get ahead of him and get over (I was using my blinker and everything), he sped up. Finally, I decided to let the man have his way and slowed down. What mattered was that I got into that lane, not that I beat him. And by doing so, I let him be all manly. . . because we all know that’s proven by not allowing women drivers into lanes they need into and not allowing others to pass you on the interstate. (That, my friends, is sarcasm.) To further the story, I did eventually get to pass him because after all that mess of trying to get over and him not letting me, when I did merge into the lane behind him, he started driving more slowly. I refuse to believe this was anything but ON PURPOSE! I passed him and went on my way, but saw him again as he was taking the split to get on I-40 and I was heading the other direction. He looked at me and laughed uproariously. I’m not sure what that was about, but I hope he feels all macho and manly today because of his driving prowess. Good grief!

Finally, I was almost at work. There was a weird moment when a tractor trailer went straight while in the turning late, but that was otherwise uneventful. I didn’t have to wait behind any of the people who can’t turn into the roof parking area without extreme braking (which there is no reason for!) and saw one of my favorite people as I was walking into the building (Hi, Mike!). Upstairs, I found some cookies that have been here since last Thursday. I’m wondering if the owner is just going to leave them until Christmas?

That, my friends, is how my Monday began. I hope yours is full of adventure, too.

 

Tomorrow is a long time.

Tomorrow, people (how many I don’t fully know) are coming to my house for an early potluck Thanksgiving dinner. Being me, that meant cooking and cleaning today. And—oh.my.word—today has been crazy. You’re getting the play-by-play, simply because I want to tell someone about it.

5 a.m.
My alarm goes off because I forgot to turn it off last night. Yay! I love being awakened at 5 a.m. on a Saturday. I am NOT getting up and toss and turn for awhile, eventually falling back asleep.

8 a.m.
Up and ready to face the day. Eat a piece of cake for breakfast and sip some coffee. Realize I have to go pick up some prescriptions and get some groceries while I’m there, because even though I’ve been to the store three times already this week, I don’t have everything I need. SCORE, me!

9:20 a.m.
Head out to the grocery store. I haven’t taken a shower or put on makeup, but I’m going and really don’t care what I look like. (I do brush my teeth and hair and put on acceptable clothing.) Here’s proof:

10 a.m.
Back from the store. It’s time to make the pumpkin cake. Wanna watch? OK!

(Actually, that last picture comes a little later, but this helps you see full circle.)

10:40 a.m.
Put clean dishes away. Reload dishwasher. Set timer for cake to bake. Basically had to climb INSIDE a cabinet to put something I don’t use very often away.

Noon
Kitchen is clean. Eat lunch, surf the Internet, contemplate watching Elizabethtown while cleaning.

12:30 p.m.
Dust upstairs. Watch Elizabethtown. Make whipped cream cheese icing for cake. Ice cake.

Clean bathrooms. Vacuum. Dust some more. Do laundry. Take out trash. Take dog outside. Drink a Dr. Pepper. Get extraordinarily happy when Drew sees Claire at the second largest farmer’s market in the world. Change shirts, put on shorts. Clean floors in living room. Vacuum furniture.

3 p.m.
Finish cleaning house. Think about putting clean dishes away, but decide to rest a minute. Sit on the couch, mindlessly flipping channels and watching a bit of a college football game. (I could take a picture of this, but it wouldn’t be pretty. I think a shower is in order before you guys see my smiling, but tired face.)

Actually, that sounds like a plan. . .

But the house is clean. The cake looks beautiful. I can’t do anything else until tomorrow. Let’s hope it all comes together!

 

Maybe stilettos would help?

I’m not tall.

Actually, I’m rather on the short side. Like the kind of person people sometimes describe as petite. I’m five foot two or three, sometimes taller in certain shoes. (And a WHOLE lot taller in the shoes Alisha and Mindy picked out for me to try on last Saturday. I was a lumbering GIANT in those heels. Too bad they were bronze, kind of ugly, and had pointy toes like elf shoes.)

Being short has its advantages. Random people in stores sometimes offer to get things down off of high shelves for you (after seeing the climbing and/or jumping up and down) and you get to revel in the fact that courtesy does still exist. It’s cool when you’re short and someone bigger than you hugs you, because you feel enveloped and safe. You don’t have to worry if your heels are too tall because really, what’s too tall?

Being short also has its disadvantages. There’s that whole not-being-able-to-reach stuff thing. There’s the hassle of finding pants that you don’t have to hem (or get hemmed in my case). When you’re short and have little feet, there’s a shoe issue. The tall people (or people with big hair) seem to have radar for short people and ALWAYS sit in front of them at shows and movies. There are things you want to do that become a big production because you’re short.

Especially things around the house. For whatever reason, my cabinents are pretty tall and contain three shelves in each one. I cannot reach the top shelf. So everytime I have to get something from up there, I have to pull a chair over to the counter and perch precariously on my toes to get what I need. It’s fun.

But the thing that happened last night is my least favorite. The light bulbs in the ceiling fixture in my bathroom suddenly died last night. (OK, suddenly isn’t the best word. The true story is that one light bulb burnt out about a week ago and I did nothing. Last night the other one went.) There are two light fixtures in my bathroom: one over the vanity and one over the toilet/shower area. It’s this light that burnt out. Now the ceiling isn’t all that high, but it’s high enough that I have drag out a ladder, then haul it upstairs to change these bulbs. Plus, there’s the unscrewing the fixture, which I’m then always scared I’ll drop and replacing the bulbs, which I have dropped and when glass hits ceramic tile, it ain’t pretty. So that was fun to clean up!

This morning, I was forced to take a shower in the dark. Just think on that. So, this afternoon, I have to go find some light bulbs, drag out the ladder, and replace the bulbs.

So, does anyone want a job as caretaker of my house? I could, um, pay you in baked goods.

Yeah, I didn’t think so. Sigh. I guess it’s up to me.

 

Awkward? Right this way!

I’m going to start off today’s post with some astounding news: I am a magnet for awkward situations and awkward people.

Oh, yeah, whatever, you say. Who isn’t?

Well, I don’t think you understand. If something awkward is going to happen, it happens near me. Or involves me. Or IS me. (The only other person I know who might really understand this is my friend Brandy. We basically live the same random life with different consonants at the beginnings of our names.)

Yesterday, since I didn’t get to complete the two grocery store challenge on Tuesday, I had to go to Publix to get some necessary items for today’s Thanksgiving potluck at work and Sunday’s Thanksgiving dinner. OK, I love Publix. (Shh, don’t tell my grocery store boyfriend Trader Joe’s.) If I were *that* kind of girl, you might say that Publix is my long-term, steady relationship and Trader Joe’s is a fling, but a fling that’s going to last awhile.

But I digress. Yesterday I went to Publix. And at Publix, one of the things that makes them special is the baggers and their offers to take the groceries to your car for you and load them in. This used to be the norm in grocery stores, but with the rise of super WalMarts and such, very rarely do people carry out your groceries for you anymore. And at the Publix I frequent, there’s this certain slightly awkward bagger who no matter what ALWAYS finds me. (See the awkward magnet at work!)

He’s been featured on this blog before. First, there was the time he blurted out how he couldn’t wait to live alone so that he could have Dark Knight posters wherever he wanted. Then, there was the time he called me Mi’lady. Since these experiences and others, I mostly avoid him at all cost in the store. I picked a line last night because I hadn’t seen him around and/or anywhere near it. There was a nice high school age bagger happily stoying my groceries away.

And then, inexplicably, he showed up. Like he had radar. He decided to get my groceries out of the cart for me and help said bagger. He pushed the cart behind me in the already narrow check-out and said happily “I’m behind you!” as he passed. It wasn’t overtly awkward, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable. And to think, he was nowhere to be found when I pushed my cart into that line. See, awkward magnet=me.

See, awkward LOVES me. Probably because I am awkward myself. I fall down in public. I laugh too loudly at things no one else seems to think is funny. I find myself in weird social situations often in which all I can do is wonder if this is indeed really happening. I cry in movie theaters if so moved. I’ve been on dates that I figured out where dates half-way into the date. There’s even the whole Cesar saga. Awkward really should be my middle name.

Such is my life, though. This is the burden I bear.

So, I apologize for any awkwardness that might happen when you’re hanging out with me. I’m an awkward magnet. Maybe I should hang out with more people who have this affliction so that the awkwardness would be canceled out. . . .and replaced with awesomeness.

But I’m choosing to embrace something Crystal Z. wrote on one of my blog posts awhile back. She said “Nerds are HOT! Own it!” And awkwardness just seems to be part of my nerdy self.

 

Dispatches

It’s chapel day at work, and it’s a big deal chapel that we’ve all been asked to attend by managers and various VPs, so skipping is not really an option. What does that have to do with you, you ask? It means this may be the most hurriedly, poorly written edition of Dispatches you’ve ever seen! Are you READY?!

• ESPN celebrated the start of the NCAA basketball season yesterday with 24 hours of basketball—meaning there were tip-offs at all kinds of crazy hours! But some interesting things happened, like Tennessee beating their opponent, UNC-Asheville, 124 to 49. In Missouri in high school basketball there’s something called the mercy rule. I’m thinking they should have just made one up yesterday for that game. That goes past embarrassing the other team to completely stripping them of any sense of honor. The last game of the night was KU and Memphis. My brother called at that point and (no offense, Rachel!) we talked about how we really couldn’t cheer for either team and wondered if some other team could come in and win the game. That, of course, didn’t happen.

• Speaking of my brother, it appears the male members of my immediate family have all been sick. My dad is at home in bed with a fever and vomiting. My brother has the same thing but is feeling slightly better. My mom is really worried about my dad and it appears she’ll be taking him to the doctor today. He was too sick yesterday to make the hour-long trip.

• I’m feeling very thankful to God today because of some good news we got at work.

• It’s occurred to me this week that there really are some phrases that are just pointless and when spoken to you, you really have no comeback. Like one I’ve been hearing often: “Your hair has gotten long!” What do I say to that? I mean, yes is all I can say because after that point, there’s really nothing more to say. Other annoying phrases are those that begin with “I’m not ______________.” Fill in the blank with words like complaining, meaning to offend you, or arguing and you’ll see why it drives me crazy. Because you just said you weren’t going to do that and now you are. Not cool.

• I did not complete the grocery store challenge last night because I kept forgetting that I had to be at church for a women’s event at 6:30 p.m. I was in a pretty tired/sour mood by the time I got to church, but I’m so glad I went. So much blessing and thanksgiving was spoken into my life. Thank you, Mindy, for all your hard work.

• I’m taking my car to a new place to get my oil changed and an estimate for a tune-up. I’ll let you know how that goes.

OK, off to work and a series of meetings and random Wednesday craziness.

 

Let the feasting begin

This coming Sunday after the morning service, I’m having my life group (and any friends they bring) over for a potluck Thanksgiving meal.

Now, it’s potluck, but being me, I’ve gone a little crazy planning what I’m going to cook. There’s a turkey. Green beans. Possibly mac and cheese. Fried apples. Salad. A pumpkin layer cake with whipped icing.

See, I like to cook for people. I like to have people over and serve them stuff I’ve made myself that sometimes happens to taste pretty good. (And just as an aside, cooking for people is one of the ways I like to show my love. So if you’ve been invited to partake of my cooking or ever received baked goods in the mail as a gift, it’s because I’m trying to show you I love you. Consequently, for those who care, one of my “love languages” is quality time. If you want to show me you care, spend time with me. That’s sometimes why I get bent out of shape when people say no when I’ve asked them to do something with me. I feel like I’ve put my heart out there and when they say no, not even realizing the way I work, I sometimes take it as them not really liking/loving/caring for me very much.)

On Sunday afternoon, I sat down to make my menu. This is something my mom and I do together every time she hosts a big family celebration and I guess it rubbed off. Menu made, I started making a shopping list. And this is when I think my craziness began to come out. I looked at what Kroger had on sale this week and what Publix had on sale and made 2 lists in order to get the best deals. And these are fairly detailed lists.

This afternoon, I’ll be doing the 2-stores-in-one-afternoon shopping trip. I’m considering making it into a game and seeing how fast I can get everything on each list and how cheaply. Because grocery shopping is just more fun when you make it into a game.

So if you see me in Kroger or Publix this afternoon and I seem oddly focused, that is what’s going down.

And if you’re coming on Sunday, you’ll reap the benefits.

I hope.

 

Talk about a mood killer

I don’t know if the subject of this post holds true for guys, but I think my female readers will understand.

There are days when everything just goes right when you get ready for the day.Your hair does this amazing thing with no effort. Your clothes just seem to fit exactly right. If you wear make-up, it goes on right and you feel beautiful. Deciding what to wear isn’t a big deal. You just have it going on that day, and you know it. Nothing can go wrong, because even if it does, you look good.

Then there are the days where something’s just a little off and it really affects your mood. Your hair looks OK, but not great and you don’t know what you did differently. The pants you love and generally feel really good about yourself when you wear them just don’t seem to fit quite right. You’re pretty sure your outfit looks stupid and that wasn’t exactly the look you were going for. And, of course, you have a break-out and wish that someone would give your skin the heads up that you’re not in eighth grade anymore.

And I’m having THAT day, my friends. My favorite cords aren’t as comfortable as usual. My hair is doing a weird flippy thing on the left side and not the right. I have a zit (or two). I think my clothes might look stupid.

To top all that off, I decided to do way too much on my way out the door. I got my lunch together. I grabbed the box of leftover Krispy Kremes to pawn off to coworkers. I grabbed several bags of things to recycle to drop off at the recycling center on my way home today. And I tried to get out my front door carrying all of that and my gym bag.

Yes, it’s been one of those mornings where nothing really goes wrong but nothing really goes right either. So, I’m making every attempt to be in a good mood today, even if it is a choice. And Bono is reminding me from the radio that it is a beautiful day.

And you can’t diss Bono.

 

When I run, I feel His pleasure.

OK, so that’s pretty much a lie for me.

When I run, I don’t feel much of anyone’s pleasure. There might be moments when everything feels right, but pleasure isn’t the overwhelming feeling I get. . . until the race is run and I feel the sense of accomplishment.

Today, I ran a 10K on my own. Generally, the only time I do 10K are for actual 10K races that I’ve paid money to run (money is generally a motivation for me). But today’s motivation had more to do with a running competition/challenge I’m doing with my friend Scott with a wager to go along with bragging rights. I don’t want to lose, and if you want to know the truth, I’ve been behind. Because Scott is a more dedicated runner than me and probably doesn’t walk in the middle of his long runs like I do.

Wait. I didn’t mean to tell you that. You’re supposed to think I’m this amazing athlete/runner!

This morning, though, was a 10K. When I run in the neighborhood where I live, I always drive to a local school and park there because there aren’t any sidewalks in the neighborhoods around my house and I’m not into testing my survival skills in a game of Mandy v. car. So I ran all the way over to Edmonson Pike, down to Blackman Road and back. And because I’d turned around before reaching the halfway point, I knew I’d have to make up some distance in the end. I figured I’d do a lap or so around the track at the middle school where I had parked.

When I finally got there, some Nashville firefighters were out walking the track. They were finishing as I finished my final lap and were stretching when I ambled up to the steps to walk to my car. I was panting and a little out of breath, yet they greeted me and said something like “Getting it in today?” I answered with, “Yes, I did a 10K.” Their response: You go, girl.

I’m taking that as a good sign for the way today will go.

You go, girl.