We Are Family

This post is a change of pace for me. Don't think I'm getting lazy about blogging, but among the Christmas gift making, Christmas gift wrapping and Christmas party attending (No, actually, I think shopping would be a more appropriate label for this...) among my normal endeavors in the Real World, I have been quite busy (and my apartment looks like Katrina hit it). I was sitting in my office today and ran across a website thanks to my friend J.; it's so awesome that I wanted to share it with all four of my readers. I hope it brings tears to your eyes like it did mine. Here it is...

"Down On Penny's Farm"

Since I decided to take a hiatus from this blog, I have decided to document my whereabouts in segments. Last week while I was home for Thanksgiving, I headed down to Dad's and my brother Bran's farm to check out the new happenings. Here is what it looks like when you first drive in:

I said I went down to Dad and Bran's farm, but really, I should call it Penny's farm. Penny is my dad's Red Heeler, whose nicknames include "Pinks," and more commonly, "Pinky." I called her Penny Lane when she was a puppy, but it didn't really stick, but Penny is a good name for her; I'm sure you can guess why in the below photo. She's the queen bee around there.

This is Pinky. She's so sweet.

Here's the corn silage that they grew earlier this year and feed to the cattle along with some farm equipment I can't name:

This new cattle trailer is the new project at the farm. The boys have been cleaning it out (I can't imagine the stench) and getting it ready for hauling:

Here's a picture of Pinky doing what she does best, rounding up cattle for Dad. Those are the two calves that Peanut is raising, and she brought them right into their pin in the barn, not far from where I was standing when I took this picture.

And last but not least, there were some wild cats that hang out in the barn (along with a couple of Great Pyrenees: Butch and Patch). One of them is pretty tame, though; I was painting a gate this past summer and she was a little too friendly with me and the gate. She rubbed black paint all over herself (and me). There's probably still cat hair stuck to the gate. When I asked Bran what her name was, he said he just calls her "Cat." And it's proven, she responds to Cat. I love it.

How You Remind Me

Everybody's heard the Nickelback song "How You Remind Me;" I'm going on this assumption, at least. I was in 9th grade when that song became popular at Lebanon High School, and there was always someone blaring "Never made it as a wise man, I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealin'....." in the student parking lot when Bran and I would drive to our respective parking spot in Big D. I form all kinds of associations with songs and events, it's just kind of how my mind works, and this song always always always reminds me of LHS football season. I went to all the games, painted my face red, white and black, wore ribbons in my hair, made tee shirts, you name it, I was as school-spirited as you could get without wearing glitter or being a cheerleader (I always wanted to be one when I was a little girl, but something in me just couldn't quite do it when I got to high school...wait, I can't remember if I did or didn't wear glitter.). Anyways, I went to LHS's homecomings game my first year of college, and that was the last time I'd been...until two weekends ago. I went to see a playoff game with my aunt and uncle and their famdamily (Morg, or Skillet as Dad calls him, plays JV) at our home field. I hadn't been to a game in 4 years, and it was so fun and awesome. Here are some pictures from the game.

"Skillet" is #87

Proud dad and little brother

And the fine gentleman in the black shirt is Doc. Doc has been a coach for LHS's football team since I can remember being in school. Some things never change. He's awesome.

And here's the famdamily minus one member...Ace, you know who you are.

When I go back to Lebanon, people always tell me how grown up I look and that they remember me when I was "this tall" (including the hand gesture that would make me 4'6"), and it's kind of difficult searching for the right response. Do you say, "Oh really? [long pause] Awesome...." It's always kind of awkward. What are you supposed to say to things like that? Yeaaaah, but seriously, my cousin Morg has really grown up, but then again, I'm not that tall. It was a great day for a football game.

Rocky Mountain High

Remember when you were a little kid in the 5 ft section of the swimming pool? You used to have to hoist yourself out of the pool because there was never a ladder near by (and it was way over your head). Well, when I was in Boulder in the summer of '08, that's how my bed was.....too tall and no ladder. I used to have to jump really high to get in bed, but I was so tired at the end of the day that it was very laborious. And then when I got out of the bed in the morning, I always expected to put my feet right onto the floor, but no, you had to slither off the bed and hit the cold tile floor with a thump on the bare feet. And it always stung and tingled badly when I did that. Sometimes when I get out of bed now and I feel that achy, tingly feeling, it always makes me think of when I lived in Boulder for 1.5 months. Great memories, best summer of my life. I don't think I've ever walked as much as I did that summer.

This was the view outside my window: Chautauqua Mountain, part of the Boulder Flatirons....Boulder's in the foothills of the Rockies: Here is a dear friend I made while in Boulder. We are standing next to a Glacial Lake at Pike's Peak: We went to Rocky Mountain National Park in Estes Park, CO also. Here's a little "lake" (looked more like a pond to me) that we found called Cub Lake. The funniest part about this is that we didn't know what it was while we were there, but I was in a gift shop in Estes Park later and saw a post card that looked like this, minus me and my bra strap sitting in front of it (and it showed more of the actual "lake"):

I realize that this post may lend itself to nostalgia, but I'm enjoying the memories while writing. I grew up in the Appalachian Mountains, and if you don't already know or haven't heard, they're totally amazing. People forewarned me about the beauty of Colorado, and coincidentally, they all said the same thing, "It's a different beauty out there." I didn't know what that meant until I got there. It really is gorgeous; however, I was glad to come back home to Virginia after a month and a half. I had missed it. Two of my closest friends that I met and worked with in Boulder, J. and S., who I hope will continue to be lifelong friends, came to visit me in Charlottesville last year. We had a great visit, and I took them to see some real beauty up on Skyline Drive:

I'm in a Hurry (And Don't Know Why)

When I wake up in the morning, I always like to hit the 10 minute snooze button....more than once. And as a result, I end up scurrying around my apartment, trying to put on heels, eat breakfast, and brush my teeth at the same time. Oh, and I have to wash whatever dishes I use because the ants will come out to play if I don't, and that means the centipedes will come out to eat the ants (always at 5:20 when I get home). I guess I could just go to bed 20 minutes earlier the night before and actually wake up when I intend to, but where would the fun be in that? My goal is to leave at 8:45, as I have to be at work at 9:00, and timing is very tedious with the morning traffic. Here's why: Everybody wants to leave at 8:45, so if you actually do get out the door then, you'll be sitting in traffic with all the other people who are presumably "on time," and you'll actually walk in the door a minute past 9:00 because this time slot is classified as the "rush hour." If you leave at 8:50 because you were trying to leave at 8:45, you're just out of luck; 8:50 is the 8:45 has-been. What I mean is, you're not walking into the office before 9:05, which makes for a bad impression on the boss. So if you ever want to cut driving time, here are a few tips: when sitting at a stoplight, try to find something in your bag or open a tube of lip gloss, because by gosh, as soon as you do that, the red light will turn green every time. Can I get an amen? If you wear glasses, take them off to get a shiny clean luster on the lenses, and there you have it, that light will turn green faster than a New York minute. Put the car in Park, do some arm stretches to get your day going, only if you're in a hurry though (because it doesn't work if you're actually on time), and you'll be to work before you know it. The funniest thing about the 8:45 Has-Been (8:50), is that if you just wait 3 minutes and leave your house at 8:53, there's virtually no traffic. It's utterly amazing. How does a mile long car line cease to exist in 3 minutes? Forget leaving early; live life in the fast lane.

Yellow

I took this picture outside of World Market this past weekend; it was such an inspiring tree. I am really into green and yellow together right now; I think there's something very striking about the combination. I'm really bad with tree names, and I wish that I knew how to identify all of them by their leaves (besides maples and oaks), but don't know what the official name for this little tike is, but I think it's quite lovely. When I think of the personification of trees (not that this is a normality for me or anything), it's slightly comical to me that I always want to give them female names. I guess I was just highly influenced by The Giving Tree and the mother willow in Disney's Pochahontas....Anyways, if I were to name this tree, her name would be Lola.

Can't Buy Me Love

...But you can check out my Etsy site and buy something from there! I'm going to be adding more items, but it takes me a while to upload the stuff. I ambitiously started my Etsy shop a couple months ago, and what do you know, I just posted some things today. For those of you who don't know about Etsy, it's worth your time to surf around on there; Christmas is coming up, you know... As far as my shop goes, there's more to come, but until then, hop unto Etsy and check the site out in general. I think people under-estimate handmade items; why would you want to buy a pair of earrings from a department store that aren't even made with precious metals or gemstones when you could get something handmade with quality materials for an equal or lesser amount? Starving artist or not, I will never stop creating.

A Very Merry Unbirthday to You

I went back to Lebanon for my birthday weekend, and if any of you know my Mom's side of the family, you know that a birthday is incomplete without a birthday bash. Needless to say, Mom threw a fantabulous birthday party in my honor last Saturday, and it was awesome. Due to my being away at college, I haven't had a birthday party like this since 2004 and I had a ball!

Here are the leaves changing on Clinch Mountain...

And here is just a glimpse of the yummies that Mom made for the fiesta (also there was a homemade chocolate log cake with vanilla ice cream rolled up inside, topped with homemade fudge sauce):






Little slice of Heaven in this one: my little cousin T. He's so sweet and gave me a ginormous birthday hug:


Like me, Tristo also loves rain boots. I think he must've inherited that gene from me. He had a hard time standing still for a picture...


Here's a photographing tip that my newly engaged friend J. shared with me (I'll let the picture below act as evidence): When taking a group picture (or anyone's picture): 1. Have everyone smile 2. Tell everyone to say "Yes" 3. Snap the picture right after they say "yes" If you follow these steps correctly, your pictures will actually look somewhat like you had anticipated and you'll want to give J. a big hug for sharing this insight. Thanks, J.!


Big hugs to Mom for throwing the best birthday party ever:

One of my favorite songs ever is called "All This Beauty" by The Weepies. These are my fav. lyrics: "...But let me assure you friend, every day is ice cream and chocolate cake..." And my weekend was ice cream and chocolate cake=pure wonderful.

The Story

I just finished reading Donald Miller's new book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years; I burned through it so fast that I almost forgot what happens in the book (Here is an excerpt). If you don't know anything about Donald Miller, you have to start with his hit book Blue Like Jazz and go from there. He's written some other books, and I even tried to read on of them, but I just couldn't get through it; I really tried but I couldn't even force the words into my eyes. His newest book, though, is remarkable, I recommend it to everyone. He talks about the concept of story all throughout the book; he tells stories about writing his own life story, and I can really identify with that, unlike the paving escrow agreement I just glanced at for a real estate closing. What does it take to make a story great? How do you live a great story?

My life story has been told by all the tiny pepperings of small (and not so small) events. Hasn't everyone's? Family birthday parties.....let's see, I had a 1950s theme-party in 4th grade where everybody had to wear poodle skirts and white tee shirts with cigarette packs rolled up in the sleeves; I had Hawaiian-themed party another year.....One time at LCF's dance team practice, I was so delirious with practicing the song that I started doing the breast stroke (and the back stroke shortly thereafter) on the stage to Sara Groves' song "Come Be Who You Are"--there' s a river in it (Guess you just had to be there)... One time Bets and I were on a road trip from Lebanon to Williamsburg and back, and I was driving (and was really tired, plus the fact that we'd been in the car together for way too long) and I tried to open a bottle of water while driving. Big mistake. When I opened the bottle, the cap fell in between the car door and the seat, and I started freaking out saying, "Well, that's awesome, I'm going to have to pour my water out now," etc. and other crazies like that.....It's really funny now, but Bets got mad at me and said, "You're not throwing the water away, I'll hold it, just give it to me! Just give it over here!" One time in college I was supposed to read a book and then ask discussion questions about it in an email to my professor (for a class called "Buddhism in East Asian Societies"), and well, you guessed it, I read the wrong book....the whole thing. The good thing is that my questions were so vague that my teacher gave me a B for them, so I think I fared pretty well considering the circumstances. When I was growing up, we had this humongo snow that left us without electricity for a few days, and Mom and Dad said we should just go to bed because it was so dark and we didn't have any light. I got so mad that I worked myself up into a frenzy and said, "I ain't goin' to no bed at no seven o'clock!" My family has definitely not forgotten that one. We all have great stories, but sometimes I let myself think that I'm not living a good story, but when I retell the stories, my hope is revived and I am reminded that life isn't a bundled up package with a red ribbon on top like the stories in movies. One of my major life goals was about going through elementary, middle and high school and going to college to get a degree. Well now that I've done this, I feel like I need another goal and I don't quite know what it is yet. So I don't feel like I'm living a meaningless life, it's just more different now than ever, and I know that God'll teach me to be patient in this transitional period of my life. Anyways, I felt really inspired by Don Miller's book because he emphasizes that you just really have to get out there and actually live your life rather than planning for your life that's getting ready start, like, after you get married or find the right job or move to the right town, etc. Thank you, Donald Miller.

Paparazzi

I got to go home this weekend; it was great. Every time I go home to Lebanon I understand the old adage, "Home is where the heart is." For some reason I've been thinking that was an old wives' tale all this time, but now.....now, I see it all a little too clearly. The Clinch Mountains' trees are starting to change, the weather was so icky, but it was so gorgeous.

Here's some fog on the Clinch Mountains, with some bulls in the hayfield. Nothing on earth like Green Valley:

Also, each time that I go to Lebanon for the weekend, I always go to.....wait for it, wait for it......Wal*Mart. I know, I've really been meaning to watch that movie The High Cost of Low Prices but I just can't bring myself to do it. Why would I buy my Claritin at CVS for 20 million dollars when I know it only costs $4.72 for a month's supply box at Wally World? It's this sick cycle that I just can't get out of. So anyways, I was gallivanting around in the Lebanon Wally World, running into everybody I know (because well, that's just how it is in Lebanon) when I found myself standing in a gargantuan checkout line. Long lines don't really bother me, and here's why: I'm getting ready to admit something and make myself feel all vulnerable inside, but here goes. There's this section in grocery/superstore checkout lines that I learned about in Mrs. Fletcher's Foods and Nutrition class at good ole LHS called "The Impulse Buy Section," and in that section, there is a plethora of all the things you think you might possibly need if you ever found yourself stranded out in the middle of nowhere and just happened to be wearing a fanny pack filled with all the contents of "The Impulse Buy Section." 6 different flavored Chapsticks for all those freezing winds (you'll be licking your lips so much while stranded that your lips will practically start flaking off), Neo-to-Go for if you scratch your leg on the bleachers at the football game, Tic Tacs (for checking the stench-status of your breath with the flat-palm-up-to-the-mouth-Hah-Hah- method), the miniature pack of Kleenex (we all know the allergies will kick in at some point) and last but not least, the Beauty and the Beast cell phone charm, who doesn't need one of those? As I was standing in the checkout line, I saw them, the one thing that keeps The Impulse Buy Section alive and well, the end of existence as we know it.........The Tabloids. Here's the deal: everybody loves them, please admit this to yourself, say it out loud, even: I can't get enough tabloids! The funniest thing about this statement is that before you said it out loud, you probably looked around to make sure no one was going to hear you before you said it. Why does it make us so happy to know that celebrities' personal lives are being exploited by the pap for all the world to see? Back to Wally World: so I'm standing in the 10 Items or Less line and I'm staring blankly into The Impulse Buy Section oblivion and realize that my line's tabloids aren't as good as the other lines' tabloids. I mean, I'm reading about how Lindsay Lohan's life has hit "rock bottom," when I look over and see Angelina 2 lines over with a headline that reads, "Two more on the way!" with tiny fine print font underneath. Dang my nearsightedness. Someone out there must understand my frustration. Speaking of the paparazzi, don't forget to check out the post "The Fame" and vote on which celebrity that F. most encompasses!