Babies, Board, and Bling

The only person on the face of the Earth that regularly reads my blog posts is my friend, Amanda. And to that end, I've decided that when I blog I'm going to do it as a letter to her. Because that takes the pressure off of me and hits my target audience. Everybody wins.

Wife,

So my friend Erin texted me last night to say she's pregnant. I so excited for her -- I even did a little dance around our house. But then I threw myself a serious pity party. Like, curl up with my back to Ollie and wipe the tears on my own pillow, kind of pity party. I don't even know why. Parenting is a terrifying thought. But it shook loose some piece of me that wished it was easier for us. 

Anyway, then I went to work and sat through a meeting I wished I hadn't heard. You know when there are just "behind the curtain" type things that you kinda wish you hadn't peeked at? That was the two hour meeting I sat through. And I have to be so careful seeing the innner-workings of the board because my poker face, it stinks. Totally unbelievable. Completely not the face you'd want speaking for your entire organization. It's just better if I don't know.

I'm also working to get a page on the website about Sizzurp ("Purple Drank," "Lean," "Screw Juice") because I feel like that's the type of information that parents of teens need access to in our community. But looking it up online? Man that stuff is depressing. I could only research for about an hour before I decided that I needed to take a break and tuck my insides back in where they belong. 

(And you know what? There's actually a lot of this job that makes me feel that way. I really thought exposure to these things would make me worldly, which would make me cool. But instead, it makes me want to lock my front door and pull a Miss Havisham.)

But tonight is the light at the end of a dark week.......Diamond shopping! That always perks me right up. Lots of people do this self deprecating "Oh, I don't really like diamonds, they're over rated." Not me! I looooove diamonds over all other jewels. I can't tell you how many times when I'm on hold on my office phone I play this game with my wedding set, trying to make as many colors as possible in 10 seconds. I love the blues and pinks and greens you can make!! And tonight, a $200 gift card I won at the local trade show is going to be picking up part of the tab. Even better ;)

So give the girls a kiss for me. I'll text you a picture of the bling later.

Love you,

J

Going "crazy"

First thing this morning, I woke up to Liz Taylor stepping in my mouth. Then my alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. The experiences were about equal.

All week I've been waking up early to go to Columbus for Mental Health First Aid training. Not 5 o'clock early, usually, but early enough that I feel like a rat in the race. This morning I was up early to work on my presentation.

That's right, I had to do a presentation. On Panic Attacks.

My back-up plan, should I do something Jamie-esque like drop my note cards, was to demonstrate a real live panic attack, which would have been no trouble. But instead, I kind of rocked it. Which means all the maligning I'd done of how "tough" my teacher was being on everyone makes the victory that much more sweet.

I'm also pretty excited that I've had the opportunity to go to the training for free, when the average person is required to pay $2,000. God bless grants.

I'm super excited to apply my skills to the field. Tools in my life-skill tool belt?? Oh. Heck. Yes.

There is a rumor that they're thinking of hiring my co-worker and I on full-time soon. "Full-time" where I work looks like 50ish hours a week.....on a slow week. I'm not sure I'm ready for all that. I've really been examining why I feel so tense about replacing the life I have with my job. I think it's because I actually like how things are turning out for Ollie and I and I don't want to miss enjoying all our blessings in the vain attempt to earn more. Or maybe I'm just lazy. Totally possible.

Cockroaches, Bras, and Family

Today I found a cockroach in my office. Welcome to public service.
I caught it in a cup and took it outside, but I obviously didn't take it far enough from the door since it practically beat me back to the lobby. I encouraged it to occupy someone else's office.
And that entire situation is a metaphor of my short time working for a government run "non-profit."

Also, buying bras is the worst ever. I'm going to start ordering them in bulk. A life time supply. And then I'll never have to spend 2 hours at a mall trying on a million bras. Seriously, I think I have some kind of shoulder strain.

Yesterday at church my grandfather said something kind of profound and I thought I should probably write it down since I'm likely to forget it. He said, "Salvation is the kind of thing you can't work to have and can't stop working on once you get." I thought that was a pretty insightful way of looking at it (insightfully Presbyterian, that is.)

Yesterday we also had a strange quasi family reunion. I think it may have scared my husband straight. One of my favorite relatives came, his name is Dwayne and he's 80. He brought his girlfriend who was "born in hill country" and embodied all the things I wax nostalgic about from Pike County. I loved her. I thought my favorite Dwayne story was about how my grandmother bit his big toe when they were kids and her mother scolded her because "She didn't know where that toe had been. Dwayne had probably been running bare footed through the barnyard." (I come from very practical stock.) But after yesterday my new favorite Dwayne story has to do with him giving his girlfriend's grandson a taste of whiskey and the grandson going to school and telling his teacher that he'd been drinking. I laughed harder than I should have when Dwayne's girlfriend recounted how her kids "don't hold to drinkin" and were somewhat displeased to be getting a call from the teacher who was concerned that they were giving their child alcohol at the tender age of 7. (Which honestly, the fact that the teacher called at all, shows how far the Pike County school system has come. I'm going to call that progress.)

I have Twitter now! They are going to try to force my hand about setting up a twitter for the board, and I thought I should try the whole tweeting thing before I went in to the meeting looking like an idiot. Now I'm a full fledged idiot who even has Twitter. Follow me: @kissthecook2007

House buying, Funeral mealing, New job working

It feels like it’s been a million years since I’ve had the chance to write a blog, and yet the days since my last blog each passed so quickly that weeks slipped by before I even really realized it. The new job gobbled up my life with such stealth that just now, as I reflect on it, I realize how thoroughly I’ve been consumed. I love what I do – I love the hours and hours of meetings, being paid to be creative, closing the door of my office to do my embarrassing happy dance after a big win. What I’m not completely enamored with is how few people speak to me. There are days I don’t talk to anyone and I feel like my own little island. I’m terrified that they assume I’m in there designing genius, when in actuality I’m in there trying to quickly re-teach myself the four years of college I’ve managed to forget since 2009. (Newest Windows Publisher…..whaaaaat?) So each day I come home like a stress zombie having faked a days worth of bravado for the Board, and now having 2-3 hours of more work ahead of me on my home computer.

And also, because I’m half masochist, Ollie and I are in the process of closing on a house this week. Typical “Jamie fashion” is laying low for 6 months and then cramming all the life events into 90 days. (One time I decided to tear out our main bathroom a week before 30 people came to our house for Christmas. Christmas Eve morning I still didn’t have running water in there. It’s my pansy rendition of “living on the edge.”) There’s really nothing as major as writing the. biggest. check. ever. to clear your bank account (and I’m not kidding when I use the word “clear.”)

Life would also be less complicated if people stopped dying – which I realize is a broad truth but also is specifically germane to the type of August I had. I don’t remember if I mentioned it previously, but I’m in charge of our church’s funeral meals. We serve grieving families finger sandwiches, relishes, cookies, etc after they bury their loved ones. It’s a task I do with as much love as an uptight consummate over-organizer can muster (which is sometimes not as much love as I would like to admit. Why can’t we plan these passings on a day that isn’t already a scheduling nightmare? Whyyyyy??) Last week I did a funeral meal for a really cute little old lady who died in her own bed in her own home at the age of 100. I know it’s sad when anyone dies, but the real truth is – that’s the kind of death most of us hold out hope for. We had her family back to the church for a meal after the internment which was a mistake as the air conditioning broke the day before and I was stuck in a small 100 degree kitchen with a gaggle of little old women who smelled like something you’d order on discount from Miles Kimball. You know what I’m talking about right? That cloying smell of potpourri and death that reminds you of funerals you attended as a kid where a well meaning family member would call you by your mother’s name and smush you into their wrinkly bosom to gain an eye-full of a plain gold cross and a topographical map of skin tags heralding where they’d been in life. (Just me? That might just be me) Anyways, last night I received a call that someone else died and we’re to do another funeral meal on the same day and exact same time as my closing. I swear to you, this is why my hair is going prematurely gray. 

Flash forward 24 hours since I wrote the above:

Now we've closed on our house and are official homeowners. 

Now I've lived through the 2 hour planning meeting at work.

Now the funeral meal has been prepared, served, and cleaned up.

I feel like an old dish rag that someone used up and wrung out and hung over the faucet. I keep telling myself "November will be better. I don't have anything planned in November and I can get a grip then!" Yesterday a coworker told me that she needs me to publicize and plan a big Gambling Addiction workshop in mid-November. 

I will pay $5 to the first person who comes in my office and bangs my head against my desk until I pass out.

Let me die in my footsteps before I go down under the ground

Isn't there something that's timeless about Bob Dylan? No matter where I am in life, his songs always find me and illuminate my path.

So I got a job. After all that drama last weekend, the local ADAMH Board called and offered me the PR position. I'm excited to jump in, since it's going to be a challenge and I'm also a little terrified thinking of the levy next year and all the work to be done. Would I ever be able to dust myself off if it failed? I'm trying not to think of it that way and instead getting excited about my new office (it has a door!! and a wooden desk!!) and my new schedule (part time, so I still get to play happy housewife) and my new mission. It doesn't come with any of the perks of being a state employee, but I'm hoping maybe someday I'll get those too. Besides, health insurance and retirement savings are for wusses.

When I told my dad (who's always felt like he best connected with me over such safe topics as "politics" and my "career"--ha!) he said, "Move over mayor, you're on your way up!" But the truth is, I've never wanted to be the mayor or any other high up official in town. I see myself more as the politico's wife, holding all the power and none of the notoriety. (I think dad despairs that I'm not much of a big dreamer)

Stress, Planes, and True Romance

It's been a rather emotional week. I planned and executed a funeral meal for 150 people only to have 250 show up. I went on a job interview I wasn't sure I wanted, and then didn't even get a call back! (Don't ask me why, but the lack of call back on a job you don't even want tends to be more insulting than not getting a job you're actually excited for.) It came to my attention through a series of misadventures that I haven't had health insurance in 8 months, and then had the completely thankless job of finding an alternative. Of course, maternity coverage is going to cost us $500/mo + my normal health care cost, and we have to carry that for a minimum of 18 months. This all ushered in a brief time where every time someone said "baby" or mentioned family or even loudly thought about either of those things, I'd burst into (seemingly random) tears. As I told Dawn last night, I was my own depressing party trick.

Olls thought it would be a good idea to self medicate with an afternoon at the Dayton Air & Space Museum. I'm not a huge "plane" fan unless I'm boarding it and it's taking me to Bora Bora, but it was hard to throw myself a pity party there so I guess it was kind of the perfect place. I also took this picture, which reminded me of Jeff Foxworthy's "Here's Your Sign" routine.
(Note: this was posted on the doors that open at the bottom of a plane to release bombs.)

Darwinism: Further complicated by warning labels

On the way home from Dayton, we were following a minivan that advertised "True Romance" on it's back window. Of course, Ollie's wanting to know what kind of business would use the tag line "Laters Baby." So I said, "They sell sex products like tupperware." Ollie said something like "Whoa, that tupperware stuff IS really versatile." Of course, what I meant was that it was also a pyramid scheme that SAHMs get in to. But, that was the moment of levity where the entire week's worth of stress and disappointment started to break up and let me breathe.

Last weekend I made Ollie take me to the Ohio State Fair for the greasy food and people watching. We got to see the butter cow! (Is it just an Ohio thing that we sculpt life size things out of butter??) I also got to see new born piglets and baby chicks hatching. ODNR had all kinds of owls, squirrels, fox, and beavers on display, which was neat. For some reason seeing those in a cage is more fun than seeing them in your back yard, though I'm not really sure why. There was a booth set up where Scientologists would use their E-meter to evaluate the amount of stress/Thetans you had. Ollie insisted that he wanted to do it, which somehow equated to us BOTH doing it. A very nice paraplegic gentleman administered mine by having me hold the handles while he asked me a series of questions that were meant to illicit a stressful response, which then made the needle on the machine jump. The first question he asked me was about my family, and that one made the needle go crazy, but everything else he asked the needle stayed stationary. He couldn't believe it and was trying all kinds of crazy questions to get me to crack. I knew the drill so I slowed down my heart rate and answered slowly and thought about kittens and kites and things that made me smile. The most revealing thing I learned about myself from the exercise is that I could probably pass a lie detector test if I had to. Ollie tested pretty high, which he attributes to me using him like a "Thetan lint brush" to catch all of my extra aliens. Tee-hee.

This week is going to start off at a run, but I think it will be less stressful than last week by far. Tonight my inlaws are taking us to the Buckeye Lake Winery, and I'd saw that's a rather successful way to start the week :)

Escape from Cowcatraz and the squirrel who faced the electric chair

So yesterday was scheduled to be a pretty chill relaxing no-sweat day. I decided to make a couple of loaves of zucchini bread while the plants were producing in full swing so I could share a loaf with my grandmother. Now, cooking in a house with no A/C is kind of a trick. You want to be dressed in as little as possible while still meeting the sanitation codes and you want to have the oven on as little as you can manage. Obviously, out here on the compound, that doesn't usually pose an issue -- there's no one out here to care that I'm bakin' in my skivvies. Which is why it was really strange that during my Annie-Get-Your-Clothes-On routine there was a furious banging on my front door followed by repetitive doorbell ringing. The incessant door bell ringing is kind of my mom's hallmark since we moved in next door. I'm not going to lie, it's 100% as annoying as it sounds. I threw down my spatula and ran to the door only to find myself greeting......the treasure hunter. No joke. There's a guy from the other end of town who comes to our properties and uses a metal detector to find indian head pennies and old Civil War-era buttons. (This is his "job." I couldn't even begin to make this stuff up.) Anyway, I don't think that treasure-hunter-dude (THD) even noticed that I looked like a naughty hilljack June Cleaver, he was that panic stricken. In a long rush of full-on freak out he tells me, "Old man B's cows are out!" Now, hold the press while I roll my eyes. This guy's cows are ALWAYS out. And before it was cows, it was horses. Before the horses were peacocks. Before the peacocks, back when I was 3 and still took an afternoon nap, it was pigs strewn out all over the back yard. For obvious reasons they didn't ask this guy build the Berlin wall. So I thank THD for his diligence and call my mom. She answers her phone with, "Whatt'd he want?" That's right, THD had tried knocking on her door first and, get this because this is actually funny, she didn't go to the door because SHE WASN'T WEARING ENOUGH CLOTHES. Yeah, I've decided not to dig too deep into the co-clotheslessness. So I relay the cow news to my mom in a completely monotone voice (because really, these cows are ALWAYS out). My mom says a word I've elected not to use on my blog and hangs up without further discussion. 15 minutes later I get a wailing call from across the street when she discovers that those green bean plants which were not trampled, were eaten. But my mom, being hard-core like she is, rounds them all back into the fence and shuts the gate. Crises averted......

....until the squirrel explodes.

Okay, so we have a gaggle (herd? murder? pack?) of squirrels that spend their lives dancing on the power lines that hang over the road. I'm not sure what this little bushy guy did to the line, but the pop from outside and the immediate loss of power was proof that it was fatal. So I throw on public appropriate garments and walk out the front door to survey the damage just as my mother is walking down her porch steps in the same endeavor. It really struck me in that moment that (a) I am my mother (b) I live a pretty weird life when the excitement for my day is scouting the remains of an electrocuted squirrel. 

All of this eclipsed the failure that was my zucchini bread effort, so there were some silver linings. 

Block Party and the Crazy Cook Corral

The block party was a success last Saturday. Since Olls and I hand delivered each invite I was hoping for an overwhelming turn out, but we had about 50 people and it seemed like the perfect number to fill up the front yard. We had so much food that we kept having to bring out more tables to hold it all! God bless whomever brought the fruit pizza, because I had never had it before and now I'm a woman possessed with the overwhelming need to make it.

I didn't post pictures of the people who came because I didn't obtain permission and I don't feel confident that all of them would be okay with that. Probably not a great idea to offend my neighbors after having just met them! (As if our lack of blinds wasn't issue enough, ha!)

As I was looking up photos on my phone to post, I realized that we have some pretty crazy things go on at our house on a normal basis. So here you go, "As Seen In The Cook Casa:"

This is Ollie sweeping our front steps in his boxers.
Dares in our house are pretty hard core.

Drama-cat telling you how she feels about having to take her
nap on the chair rather than the couch.

If I fits in it, I sits in it.

The #1 reason I'm paranoid about turning on the dryer

Half superman / Half Upper-Crust

It's kind of a long story.......

Aloe, Cookie, Manifesto

Did anyone else make the mistake of trying to talk to their super conservative rural Ohio family about the repealing of DOMA? Am I the only fool who thought that would be a good idea?? 

Yikes.

For penance I stood in the kitchen for almost 4 hours baking cookies. I HATE baking cookies. I especially hate drop cookies which take forever and are difficult to get evenly baked (is that just me? I'm always afraid to play kitchen confessions on the off chance I'm the only person in the world that sucks at something. We should discuss the epic pain in the butt that is bread making, amiright? Wait, right guys? right?? anyone????)

I'm also serving hard time for the sun worshiping I insisted on doing at the pool last weekend. I am beyond tired of going to bed each night caked in aloe only to very gently toss and turn on sticky sheets because no matter how I lay, it smarts. I've gotten adept at standing in exactly the right spot in the tub so that the shower nozzle sprays me enough to get clean but not enough to make me cry. Luckily a few days into my sentence of suffering from karma in silence, my friend Amanda texted me her sun burnt status and thus I've had someone to complain sympathize with. I've been using my burn as an excuse to take it easy this week, but now that it's slowly fading and my "projects" are piling up, I need to get on top of my chores before the block party takes over all my extra time.

On a cheerier note, has anyone seen the manifesto posted by Vimrod last month? I don't normally find myself drawn to these, as none have ever been quite the perfect fit for my own world view. But this one, this one is so close that as I read through it I felt like it was precisely the type of thing I would write if I was going to do my own (and maybe one day I will find the time to do my own......like when God invents the 32 hour day.) The only disclaimer I'll put is that I don't pee in nature. In fact, I've gone to death defying lengths to make sure that never happens.

I'm considering having this made into a poster to hang in my mudroom so I can read it coming and going, what do you guys think?

source

Here Comes the Sun

Sure, it's all fun and games being of Scottish decent until you walk outside and the sun hits you. Usually I'm a mess of freckles after spending any time outdoors in the summer, but thankfully after a few hours in the pool this weekend, they're all covered up with the worst.sun.burn.ever. Ollie said to me before we left the house, "You're going to want sun screen. If you don't put it on, I don't want to hear any comments about how much your sunburn hurts!" 

Me? Sunburn?? I laugh in the face of sunburns!! Muwahahaha....

And do you know what's infuriating about my spouse? He's so often right. Now I look like a lobstah and I can't even complain about it. (Which made for a pretty quiet run this morning. Yes, I ran and I counted each time that my shirt touched my shoulders and made me wince. A most unpleasant way to pass the time, let me assure you.)

Baywatch extras

I have to admit, the sunburn was mostly worth all the fun we had in the pool over the weekend. Out in the country no one cares how you look in your bathing suit, or if you splash pool water on the ground, or if you bring a list of "80 Questions to Ask Your Spouse" and then laugh uproariously when your husband reenacts some of his playground antics to demonstrate his answers. We played hard and then slept like logs each night, just the way I remember summer's as a kid. 

Today it's back to situation normal, and a marathon week as we prepare for the big P-ville block party this weekend.

Playing Catch-up

I don't hate running! Ok, I'm not going to go so far as to say I love it (#crazytalk) but I've learned to appreciate it's benefits. Mostly the empowered feeling that I can drink a glass of wine, eat a slice of bread, or have a spoon full of unbaked cookie dough because I RAN. (Sometimes I do all three of those things. #realcrazytalk) I feel like a super hero! Especially since I wake up at 6 am, forgo makeup in favor of passing a brush over my teeth, and then do this blessed event outside in the open where everyone can see me. It isn't especially pretty or fun, but when we finally get home there's a very reassuring moment where I lay on my living room carpet and try not to die.

Monday evening Kate and I went out to dinner at The Minute Bar. We ordered 2 margaritas a piece (Life is short!) and laughed ourselves off the stools and solved all of the world's more major issues. Plus we had to gush over the wedding of our mutual friend this past weekend. What is it about weddings that just make all your warm gooey places melt?

L to R: Myself, Erin, and Carey

L to R: Kate, Myself, Carey

See that look on Kate's face and the fact that I'm simultaneously cracking up? That's how we've managed to get ourselves into so much trouble over the past 12 years. (Also, I realize I look like a sher-pei when I laugh. I'm working on it.)

I think I may actually be getting a better handle on this whole hillbillie housewife gig. I do sometimes feel like I'm caught in a tug of war between my house projects and my cleaning schedule. I've also insisted that the husband and I not use our AC this summer in an effort to "save money." And while saving money is great, my real reason (as misguided as I realize this is) is more about trying to adhere to a 1950's style housewifedom and that includes the laughing and yelling of the kids at the pool being filtered through the box fan in my window. All that lovely noise mingles with my radio and keeps me company. Pure nostalgia, but I think it adds an extra mite of sweetness to each day. 

Neighboring

Today in church our pastor discussed the art of neighboring. Many of the churches in our community are preaching on this subject in an effort to re-capture some of the neighboring instinct of the earlier 1900s. As he was describing what being a good neighbor entailed, I couldn't help but be entranced by the thought of bringing a little Leave It To Beaver to my own 'ville. The last home we lived in (a defunct rectory a few blocks from where we live now) I tried to introduce myself to our neighbors, but they were antisocial and they didn't want to get to know us. In fact, the neighbors who lived across the street even gave me the creeps! (When it came time to put out Halloween decorations, I'll never forget them hanging up bloody rotting zombie bodies on their porch and leering at me in my front lawn. Creeper town!!)

It's a little more challenging for me to "neighbor" the way the initiative implies now that Olls and I live on "the compound." What's the compound you ask? Well that's what my grandmother calls our end of town, since my family takes up an entire block. (She chose to call it that after the Kennedy compound, but we're really more like Everybody Loves Raymond.) I'm related to almost all of my neighbors and those select few who aren't actually on the family tree are old old family friends. Not only do I know all my neighbor's names, most of them have great nick-names like "Grandma" or "Mom" or "Uncle Phil." I guess people who aren't from rural Ohio might find this particular brand of family togetherness kind of odd, but it's actually very common out here. The closest homes to us across the field and down the road a "fur piece" are also a string of properties owned by members of one family.

This is our neighbor (not related) taking my little brother on a donkey
cart ride. The challenge was: if Steve could get Jack the donkey to
come to him then the neighbor would hook up the car and they would
take a ride together. Steve held out his cute 6 or 7 year old hand and said
"Come here Jack" and Jack came right over. My brother catches donkeys like a boss.
It's hard to imagine this photo was taken 10 years ago... Believe it or not, this same donkey still wakes me up many mornings.

After the church service let out I ran into a lady who lives a few country blocks away from us. She was attended by this younger gal who has been beyond sweet and nice in the few times I've had the chance to speak to her. I said something to the older lady about not needing to go very far to "neighbor" with each other, since we live so close. The young lady immediately said "Oh my gosh, we should have a cookout!" I've never been particularly good at making girl friends since I got married, but she's so nice and genuine that I found myself enthusiastic about this neighboring project. Cookouts, waving when we drive by, driveway plowing, the occasionally hand-delivered garden flowers or fresh pie. These things are so simple and cheesy, but if they give someone else even a little of the lightened mood I experience when she so eagerly suggested a get together, then maybe those little extras are the things missing from my "neighboring" experience. Besides, if any community should be able to figure out good neighboring, it would be our tiny family and faith based farming community. So, with all this extra time and energy on my hands, one of my housewife goals is to go out of my way to neighbor. If you have any suggestions of things I could do, or any great stories about great neighbors and their gestures from your own community, please share them!

Rubix Cube, Abe Lincoln, and Desk Tsunami

I always thought that if I started staying home full time, I might get bored. Turns out staying home is kind of rad. I'm busier than ever and the type of projects I'm finding to do are interesting. I miss my old co-workers, but I'm not lonely enough to pine for the days when my desk phone was ringing off the hook and the only relief was my lunch hour.

Here's what I've been up to:

• Have I mentioned that Ollie is training to do "speed cubing"? This week he ordered a special rubix cube that has less friction in the mechanism, making each turn smoother and faster. When he first unboxed it, the cube slid too easily and would spin if he didn't handle it carefully. So after nerding out with his new cube for a bit, he pulls out the tool chest and starts taking the sucker apart to adjust the insides. I thought that was pretty cute, so I made him let me take his picture:

• Last Friday I helped to serve a luncheon for a national group of Lincoln impersonators. You heard me, Abraham Lincoln impersonators. There were 75 of them all together and they had flown in from around the country to tour the local Sherman house/museum and some of our historical homes in the area. They stopped by our church for lunch and to hear a local General Sherman impersonator give a speech while dressed in his costume. It was surreal but it was also super fun.

Some of the Lincolns took themselves more seriously than others. I caught flack a number of times because I referred to the plastic eating utensils as "silverware." Inevitably, they would say "What manner of tomfoolery is this? Why this fork is made of a clear substance, not silver at all!" Gah! Take your food rake Abe and let's all save ourselves the melodrama. 

All in all, it was probably my favorite luncheon ever served. Very cool to see them seated all together with their Mary Todd Lincolns.

• I'm trying to get a handle on my private desk at home. Each time I join a committee it seems like my desk explodes in paperwork. I'm also in the process of integrating the items I had in or on my work desk. Add in the normal coupons, bills, and various mail correspondence and it's like a tsunami of papers washed over the surface and left me with.......well, this:

Can you spot a cat too?

• I've just set up a meeting with the head of our local Child Advocacy center to talk about joining their ranks. She's excited that I want to volunteer as they've been looking for someone with my degree but were unable to created a paid position. I'm nervous about it. Partly I'm afraid I won't live up to their expectations, and partly I'm afraid that what I'm going to be in line to see here will change me in ways I can't anticipate. 

Once Upon a Time...

I've seen quite a few posts recently about how bloggers met their significant others and I thought it might be fun to share how my husband, Ollie, and I met.

During my high school years, I spent a week each summer on a mission trip in Honduras. While on my last Honduran journey I got lucky enough to travel with the cutest guy I'd ever seen! He looked like the love child of Prince William and JFK, his name was "Ollie" which was so vintage and posh, and my 17 year old self was dying to meet him. He was very quiet; I didn't get many opportunities to naturally start a conversation and confess my undying love. It wasn't until one very very hot Honduran day when a group of us missionaries were walking to the soccer field that I had my golden opportunity. Fate found Ollie and I walking along a little behind the group, and Ollie used his long lanky God-given arms to accidentally brush the back of my pants. I stopped right there and grabbed his wrist to say in my best accusatory voice, "Did you just touch my butt?" (I figured, this was it. If he doesn't laugh it's a no go.) He looked me directly in the eye completely straight faced and said "Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

That's about as close to love at first sight as it gets.

(unfortunately, these represent all the photos I have from that trip)

When we landed back in Ohio I ran to my grandparents in the terminal and I said "I met this boy...." (which they now credit as the moment they knew I had met the man who would be my husband). Of course, it was difficult for us to be inseparable, seeing as how we lived an hour apart and neither of us drove. But through the help of AIM, rudimentary texting, and long distance phone calls, our relationship continued to grow. 

Each Sunday Ollie would come for early church services with his mother, and then we'd walk to a nearby park and talk for hours or have a picnic next to the water. He was so smart, and interesting, and (maybe most importantly) he made me laugh. 

We had lives planned after graduation that were set into motion before we met. I was early accepted into a fairly competitive small liberal arts college, Ollie was training for The Coast Guard Academy. It wasn't long before he started applying to Ohio colleges and spending less time researching the east coast. For Christmas, he took me to Connecticut to meet his brother and sister-in-law and their son. Because I had already financially invested in Marietta, I went away to school there for a year but was miserable. When it came time to schedule for classes the following Fall, I transferred to the local branch of the same college Ollie was attending. Luckily for us, our parents really supported our relationship and our church friends were constantly keeping us in their prayers, both of which buoyed us up when the distance made our relationship challenging.

2 years after we first met, Ollie took me back to that special park and proposed on the same bench we used when we were whiling away all those Sunday hours. We were 19 and too poor to afford an engagement ring, so my great-grandmother gave Ollie her engagement ring from the 1930's. Believe it or not, my great-grandfather and my husband have the same first name, not to mention my Mamaw thought Ollie was the bee's knees. 

We got married in December of 2009.

Now we've been married for 5 and a half years, and each anniversary we celebrate is better than the one before. 

Hillbillie Housewife

It's been exactly 2 weeks since I pushed the big red panic button on the master control panel of my life. On that day, I very calmly I walked into my bosses office and handed him my two weeks notice. I tried to act like a pretty cool cucumber; I think I might have even sounded like someone who knew what in the world they were doing. Ha!

So, I decided (and by "decided" I mean that crazy fit of bravery you get right before you parachute out of a plane and then spend the free-fall thinking "whatamidoing, whatamidoing, whatamidoing!") to take a little time off of the rat race and figure out what comes next. I'll volunteer my services around town and see what happens; maybe I'll find my niche or I'll rule out some job genres. I'm going to heal my ulcer before I have to quit eating Mexican/pizza and thus basically starve to death. I'm going to try chicken and waffles, because I've been dying to find out what all the hype is about. I'm going to wear shorts for the first time in more than 10 years (the weight I lost with Advocare was okay, but I'm guessing the next 10 pounds are going to be more challenging). It's time to reinvent -- until further notice I'm a person under construction.

Here's to beginnings!

Can I admit something here? We're friends now, so I feel like I can say this without fear of you judging me. 

I. Love. Pinterest.

If you took cake and cats and Coach and crafting and rolled it into a big ball, that's how much I love scrolling through pins. So, where did I look when I wanted more research on this Advocare stuff?? You got it. 

I found plenty of blogs dedicated to Adovcare and even more that wanted me stand on my head while eating like a cave man. I started to dub these blogs: "Skinny girls helping skinny girls get....skinnier." It's pretty hard to get inspired by someone who's "before" pictures look the way you're hoping to look in 6 months. Yikes!

So here it is -- You're reading the average-Joe Advocare blog. I don't sell the product, I hate to exercise, this isn't January 1st, and my goal is 25 pounds by August. I'm also a recovering caffeine addict who still occasionally craves the snap of a diet Pepsi tab and the cool rush of energy. I think I represent those gals who are looking to make sensible life-style changes in the midst of a fast paced schedule.