33

i turned 30 in the bethel prayer hut in mozambique. i turned 31 in zutphen, holland with tamara and mirjam taking me out for fries with mayo. i turned 32 back in mozambique, but this time in my little house, yards away from the bethel prayer hut, playing uno with manuel. and i turned 33, in my own bed, in my own house, in my little city, in my home State. i worked saturday night and actually got off a little early. i skipped to my car, exhausted but happy to be going home. i could hardly sleep, excited about the big day and all that i had planned. not really excited to be turning 33 or even having a day that is mine, but having a day with my sister...and an hour with christine!
i had bought a  gogo necklace at fernandina but would not even open it up and take it out of the box until the big event. i woke up early, dressed up a little in my new jcrew finds and an old pair of skinny jeans and a pink silk frilly tank i actually bought at banana republic for a 20-something birthday way back when. (that party with jerkface at two uban licks, remember?) anyway, i took out my little gogo necklace and slipped it around my neck. new, tiny, simple, coastal inspired jewelry feels good. it is a shark vertebrae.
i grabbed two hardbacks (recent library finds) and my empty bag of starbucks french roast and rushed out the door. i pulled into starbucks just before the mad rush of churchgoers. i spied a french press on sale for $14.99. i have my individual press, but am finding that the automatic drip is pure rubbish and i can no longer tolerate it. i will put my kettle to work. i hand over my empty bag and get my free cup of coffee, pay for the press and find four lovely large leather chairs awaiting me. i pick one in the corner, plop down, take out a Ziplock of blueberries and my hardback covered in thin plastic and begin to read. i keep eyeing the guy next to me with his big fat, scattered Sunday paper, coupons discarded on the floor. eventually he gets up and walks away. i lean over and grab the coupons and go through them like a scavenger, not even looking around to see if anyone is watching me, i finally just dump the whole stack in my bag. i figure if i am going to pillage, i may as well just take it all and not leave any evidence.
i escaped into my book for 30 minutes or more. then large groups kept coming to my quartet of chairs and since i was taking up one and there were always perfect pairings of 4 of them, they just looked at me annoyed and walked away. a crowded starbucks. 4 comfy chairs. me in one. stolen coupons concealed. blueberries from home. nobody sat with me. after a while i felt sorry for the groups of 4 in all their codependency and i got up. i gathered my snacks and my loot and left. i met my sister in the nordstrom rack parking lot.

even though it was just 10:30 it was hot as blue blazes already. i decided to skip nordstrom and head straight to the good stuff. the goodwill stuff that is. i LOVE the book section at the goodwill store. there are two goodwills that i frequent and head straight to the book section. there, you can ALWAYS find 1) the world is flat by that Jewish guy 2) any or all emily giffin books, except for the latest one- i give it another two weeks 3) southern living cookbooks 4) children's classics 5) "beach reads" from the previous year 6) eudora welty, clyde edgerton, flannery o'conner, pat conroy and whatever else junior leaguer's have in their collection 7) a sprinkling of current NYT bestsellers. these are the jackpot finds and you score extra points when you fnd one. hardbacks are $2.00. we hit up the one on roswell and carla went nuts, bending over with her purses hanging down to the floor, lookin' and grabbin' like it was the wedding gown sale at filene's basement. i sat back and watched and smiled. i had told her it was good. we found this fun Fairie Fashion book for Catherine.

i got a Southern Living Cookbook. carla recommended it as one of her favorites and says it is full of cooking techniques and ways to prepare various foods. i thought it would be educational and i have a lot to learn in that area and it will make the kitchen look like somebody knows what they are doing in there, if anyone ever comes over the evaluate.

by the time we finally got out of there, i was famished. i love brunch and that was what i wanted. eggs with spinach and avocado, english muffins toasted. we went over to the highlands to american roadhouse. the ambiance is no good. their vegetables are not very good. but their breakfasts are huge and free on your birthday. they are also free on your anniversary. mine is coming up soon. i don't think i should be penalized for being single.  i think i will take betty to lunch on my anniversary (printable coupons are sent to your email address). we then waddled around the highlands full and hot as blue blazes still!! it seemed like every store we went in had no air-conditioning. i walked around these little boutiques constantly wiping my top lip with the back of my hand and really couldn't concentrate on shopping for my fear of buckling my knees and passing out. after our feeble attempt at shopping, we went to Alon's for bread. we bought 3 loaves of fresh from the oven heaven. i wanted a jar of quince paste, but am on this kick of only buying stuff i need, not want. the gogo necklace was kind of an exception to the rule, but lovely jewelry is sort of a necessity.

then we went here! dr. bombay's underwater tea party. we had Tea for Two.

they didn't have their air conditioning on either and it was hot hot and there was no way i could drink hot tea, so we asked for iced tea instead. she gave us a whole huge china pitcher full of cold iced green tea. it was incredibly good. carla and i both took a sip at the same time, both then looked at each other wide-eyed and said, "yummmm". the two tiered platter of cupcakes, brownies and scones was way more than enough for two. i found a coupon at "the green half" that made a $20 gift certificate, $10. dr. bombays is located on mcclendon near the flying biscuit. it is a fun place. the service was so-so and the desserts are not to die for, but the tea was delish and the atmosphere is fun and inviting. it would be a fun place to go and journal and sit and sip. they have ice cream too. i will have to go back and sample it for reviewing purposes only.

after our sugar overdoses at dr. bombays, we hit up the Nearly New. all books were 75% off. i got an award winning paperback that from perusing the front and back covers, simply looked good. i look forward to finding out. we were so close to all that fun howell mill design district stuff that we had to at least hit up Ballard Designs. so we did. they had a huge vintage map of africa. it is probably 3 ft x 4 ft. pale colors. lovely. the continent speaks to me. i love it. i stood and stared. it kind of took my breath away a little. i found it funny that a mass produced $300 piece of art could make me feel a certain way. it moved me. and i found myself standing in ballard's, relishing the air-conditioning, staring at a map, asking her why she moves me so. africa beckons me. even from ballard's. bizarre.

carla had never been to IKEA and everyone has to go at least once. christine met us there. we walked through the maze of cheap imported goods and all left with one of these:

i have a whole bag of loose tea that Aunt Phylis sent a few years ago.  wonder if that stuff goes bad? Probably not. so now I have an infuser and Carla does too and so does Christine. we can have our own proper tea party now. we said goodbye to Christine in the IKEA parking lot and as i drove Carla back up to Buckhead, i didn't want the day of shopping and laughing and simply being together to end. for the first time in ages i began to feel a little homesick. even though i was at home. i began to miss my sister a whole lot, even though she was sitting there right beside me. i made her go to Jason's Deli and eat a salad with me. she told me about the day i was born. i have heard the story 32 times now. how it was hot. how it rained. how i was jaundice. how i cried. how elvis died 15 days later.

she drove away. and then just like on august 1st, 1977, i cried, and then it rained.

Now what?

I had a little session with my Life Coach Steven Cooper. If you don't have a Life Coach, I recommend them. At first suggestion, I thought Life Coaches were bogus, like diet pills. Or like birthing coaches, when everyone knows when it really comes time for childbirth, focal points and staccato breathing goes out the window and all manner of screaming and yelling and whatever comes out just comes out, loud and foul and ugly and painful. At least that was what I witnessed when my sister gave birth. Sorry, Carla. Actually the woman is invincible and incredibly strong and to me, has a high tolerance for pain. I just vividly remember Kevin trying to coach her through the breathing they had been to classes to learn and prepare for this moment. But in the actual moment of childbirth, my poor sister just gutted forth a slow, steady, low moan through each contraction. When Kevin attempted to demonstrate Lamaze breathing, she stopped him. Looked him intently in the face and said, "This feels good and I'm doing it!!" and commenced with the low, drawn out moan. He backed away. 36 hours later, Catherine was born. Happiest day of my life. Still.

I strongly feel that my Life Coach has come along to help me resume the Lamaze breathing, hold up my focal point, filling my lungs with air and drawing all focus to my ultimate goal. We met for the first time about a year ago. At that time I knew I wanted to go abroad, but not sure in what capacity. I knew that I would need money to make all that happen and wanted to be free of debt and begin to build a surplus to help fund this and now I am...debt free, building a surplus.

When I begin to dream about missions and Africa and farming programs and sustainable projects and micro-enterprises and solutions to poverty and feeding the hungry, I get so excited I can't sleep at night. I lie awake dreaming of where I could go and what I could do and what it would look like and all the hundreds of things that I have to do to make this happen. I think about applying for grants and taking seed and tools to villages and establishing relationship there and learning their culture. As I began to spill all of this out to poor Life Coach Steven the other day in one big blow of  excited air and steam and squeals, the deep breath back in caused my chest to tighten, shoulders to ache, neck to tense and I realized that I was stressing myself out just a little bit.

He had already told me to chart a few things out in simple pro and con lists. This was a kinda big deal for me because I am not a list maker. I make them all the time for groceries but never remember to actually take the list with me. I also make To Do lists weekly, but mostly of things I have already done so I can just look at them marked off and feel productive. So, together, we took a few steps back and took a look at what I can do here and now. Clearly, I am here for a bit. So we made short lists of what I can do while I am here. This includes, research non-profits, grant programs and serving as a resource to those abroad who are implementing these programs and may need someone with Internet access and communication to help. I could potentially even secure grants of funding for friends I have already there doing the work! This would be great practice and a great way to keep me busy until I am free to go.

Secondly, we took a look at The House Situation and decide to be patient and revisit, and perhaps refinance or possibly rent, in December, but leave alone for the moment. I have been hearing God clearly say, "settle". Not "settle for" but more like "settle down". I just keep hearing that this could be way bigger than I could ever comprehend and therefore it could take more time that I have originally intended. Of course, I don't like to hear this. But the moment I step into the peace of settling down, I feel much better and know that His hand is not removed.
I keep seeing the scene from "Babe" where the man says, "That'll do, pig. That'll do". But in this scene, I am not the pleasant little pig and God is patting me with satisfaction. Instead, He seems to be saying, "Look at those sheep all stubborn and scattered and noisy and chaotic and all over the place. Settle down. Your bleating gets you no where". He has referred to us as sheep before so I have to take this one seriously. I think He is saying, "Slow down, walk steady, follow me and don't get too far ahead". So as I dream with God about what I want it all to look like and my dreams to eradicate poverty, He keeps saying, "Are you willing to wait if that is what it takes? If this plan is as big and amazing as you know it to be, are you willing to wait for it"?

I don't even have to answer the question. I just pull out a sheet of paper and write:

1. Go to Neiman's
2. Pick up Ice Cream!!
3. Pay Utility Bill (turn down airconditioning)
4. Pick up wine for dinner party
5. Swing by Starbucks
6. Go to the Library

Then promptly strike through all six of them and enjoy my lovely, blessed Western life in this moment and those to come.

100 dreams: part 2

live on a beach

get a great camera, capture faces and places

learn to sew

acquire a child

never have to work a 9-5 (or a 5 to Close)

go back to Zimbabwe, find Constance, hug her

write an article for Conde Nast

plant gardens in Africa

always have access to chocolate and coffee

see the dead raised

artwork by claire hollywell

http://www.chollywell.com/

Favorite Things

A morning of Book Reviews, as written by me.

An Update

I have completely hesitated in coming here to give detailed updates of any sort, mostly because I have no idea what I am doing. I have taken a second job. I have paid off bills and am building a lovely little savings and that is fun. I like making fast cash in addition to my salary and not having to feel the constraints of furloughs.


I am learning a great deal by serving in the "public sector" and my new little career in the service industry. I would not say that it completes me or that I really enjoy it at all, but I am learning about identity and love and growing in this process, and getting a little check every week. And that is the fun part. The list of things I want to buy grows with new additions like a macbook pro, iPad, Canon EOS, and a plane ticket. I actually recently bought a plane ticket via a buddy pass on Delta and am contemplating just how I want to use it. Anywhere Delta goes, to be used within a year. But it is more complicated than that really. I, of course, want to use it to go to Africa, but that is virtually impossible. I hear that you can get there, but you can't get back. That would be fine with me, but Wells Fargo and the IRS might not like that. Maybe South America? Oh, or China!


I am looking into setting up a non-profit and am open to any and all advice in this area. I am finding that there are grant monies out there for what I want to do. Basically, I want to take the Farming God's Way program into as many areas as I can. It is a program that works. The method of farming produces greater yields than others who use technical and mechanical farming methods. This no slash and burn, little soil disturbance method works. It is also low cost. I just need to budget out how much it would cost to plant a small garden in each village and start writing for grants for funding. Why not? If anyone out there wants to help, you know where to find me. I need left brained people as resources. I need spreadsheets and numbers people. Then we have to figure out how to get me over there to help do the work.


I have met some amazing people who have all offered excellent advice to get me on the right track. There are so many opportunities available. I hope to meet next month with a group called DIG (Development in Gardening) and cannot wait to find out more about what they do and what I can do to help.


This is where I am. Making lists. Big To Do list that all radically change my life. They are all really big dreams and there are so many steps involved to get there. Today the one that stares me in the face is:


1. Sell/ Rent House


If you know anyone who would just love a tidy little bungalow in East Point, let me know. $1200/mo. Or just whatever you can pay to help me with this mortgage so I go do what I want to do. Thanks.

2 Bedroom 1 Bath Original Craftsman Style Bungalow
Built 1923
Original Hardwood Floors, Windows and Doors
French Doors
Separate Formal Dining Room with Vintage Chandelier
Glass Doorknobs
Woodburning Fireplace
Stainless Steel Appliances
Cozy Front Porch
Brick Backyard Patio
Laundry Closet
Pantry
Large Closet in Master Bedroom
Crown Molding
Fenced in Backyard
Designer Colors
Expandable Attic with Permanent Stairs
Raised Corner Lot
Historic Colonial Hills Neighborhood
5 Miles to Downtown Atlanta
5 Miles to Hartsfield Jackson International Airport
1 Miles from Downtown East Point
2 Miles from Downtown College Park
1 Mile from 75/85 

It Happened One Night

One night, being last night. At the Club. Belittled. Ignored. Treated like a waitress. Wait a minute. I am a waitress. But not really. Not at all. Even if I were President of the United States, my job would not define me. When am I going to get this through my head? The greatest thing we have in life is love, right? The ability to love, the power of love. Love, love, love. It's all we need. The Beatles said so. And all of that starts with us loving ourselves. I pretty much, other than when trying on bathing suits, love myself. I walk through life, knowing that His love is all I have, trying to live a life in communion with God to be full of love for myself and others. I am confident that God provides all I ever need and has promised me good things and my future looks amazing. I get excited just thinking about it.

All of a sudden, here come the Young Members Committee AKA the people who are members of this club who are my age, know people I know, shop where I shop, eat where I eat, weekend where I weekend. Okay, so I don't really "weekend" much any more, but I used to. I am not at all interested in their conversation of who all was at dinner last night at The Tree House or about their weekend in Cashiers or Kiawah. But there they are. Ten of them. Which brings the total number of people who I alone am serving to over 20. That means I am seriously breaking a sweat. I am more than hopping. I am taking orders, putting complicated orders in a computer system, balancing cocktails, delivering food, busing tables and taking dishes back to the dish pit, getting ketchup, extra sauces, steak knives, desserts, coffee, creamer, the list goes on. I don't stop. I never stand still. Then Buffy, actually I think her name was Blair, calls me over, leans over and touches my name tag to look at it, calls me by my name and asks for some water. It was done so in a very condescending manner. And what do I do? I condescend right back. UGH! Why do I do that? I give her the smug, clinched teeth look that says, "Don't touch me. I will lick your soup spoon." That was so mean of me. I was just so mean right back. I didn't say a word, but my eyes, and clenched teeth said it all.

The room was busy, I was the only waitress, they all had their cocktails and taking orders and member numbers for 10 people and plugging all that in and getting those out in a timely manner is not an easy task. And I know people get thirsty and I like water too. Just ask nicely. And don't touch me. Then I fly back to my station and I am out of water glasses. I run full sprint to the hallway, grab a rack of glassware, fly back to my station and fill glasses for 10, taking four immediately to Blair and her Lily Pulitzer clad friends and she has the nerve to say, "I think we all would like some", looking at the rest of the table, eyebrows raised. Excuse me? I wanted to say that the SIX remaining glasses would not fit in my APRON and the last time I BALANCED THEM ON MY HEAD it didn't work out so well. But I didn't. But that made me mad as fire.  Ugh. Mad as fire, I tell ya. Are you just looking for ways to make me feel less than? Do you think I am a total slacker idiot? I am sorry your Spanx are so tight that you have to be short with me, but I am bringing water for the table but I can only carry 4-6 at a time and I was considering your thirst and thought that my timely manner of deliverance for your immediate need would be rewarded with a smile. Excuuuuusse me. I was going to write more about how their conversation turned to making fun of prostitutes and how embarrassed they were with Atlanta's prostitution problem and how it made me mad. And then how I immediately realized, as I bused tables and listened to their conversation, that my judging them is really no different. Lack of love, compassion and understanding is simply that, no matter who you are. I now am still so worked up I can't even think about it. "Lord, help me. Love my thighs in a bathing suit and that lady with the porcelain veneers. Thank you."

Farming God's Way

This is an excellent resource on sustainable, organic farming that works. It is a quality program with thorough teaching that is practical. They have seen major results and are feeding the hungry with gardens that are producing huge yields year after year.
1. Biblical Training- shows a tangible display of God's provision and the power of prayer and repentance
2. Technology- with zero tillage and applying "God's Blanket" of leaves, twigs and fruit to protect the soil and absorb the rains
3. Management- emphasizes maintaining gardens at a very high standard and making a profit off of yields!

Happens Every Day

This book caught my eye in the grocery store. It was $11 and it just looked good. It kinda beckoned me. I usually don't even go down the book or magazine aisle. But for some reason I did. I saw it was a true story and I am all for a true story. There was a blurb on the front stating that readers who liked Eat. Pray. Love. would like this book and because I want to write a New York Times Bestseller and this one was one, I bought it. For research purposes. I love paperbacks. I also love books that are mine and not from the library. I find I read library ones gingerly. My own books I caress, devour, fold, eat with, bathe with, take to bed with me and put them underneath the pillow next to mine. Library books have to remain on the nightstand and aren't allowed to rest on my belly in the bathtub like books of my own. So maybe you might not want to borrow my copy of this book, but it was a decent read. And I can say I recommend it. She is a good writer, but not great. It is far from literary genius, but she is well educated and well in touch with her feelings and emotions. I liked it because it is like reality television without commercials. You get a front row seat inside this woman's monologue as she pours her heart out to you. 

The story itself was good, not great. I mostly liked her talking about various parts of her life, growing up wealthy, her family, their vacations, life in New York, and the home she remodeled with her husband. And all the emotion and joy and pain of life and marriage and children and being a wife and mother. 

By the end of the book I thought the woman may have gone a little crazy. I don't want to give away the story, although you can find the plot on the back cover, but it is about D-I-V-O-R-C-E. Raw, and real, but entertaining as you get to lean on their new kitchen counter tops in their 100 year old brick house and watch them fight. I read it one Saturday, opening it with my morning coffee and didn't put it down until I went into the kitchen to make a tomato sandwich and finished it by 5:00 and even put it down to mow the lawn. This means it was good. I couldn't put it down, I liked it.

Shopping

My life of working all the time has greatly impacted my wardrobe. So has my lack of running. So clothes don't fit or are far from the latest fashion or were purchased at the Anderson Mall circa 1999, and must go. I cleaned the closet a little and made some room and hit up the mall tonight with the intent to at least buy one new thing that was modern, current, and fit. And of course, was on sale.

I am so over Macy's. I don't like that place. I am a huge fan of Nordstrom's, but I JUST paid off my credit card. However, Nordstom Rack is a beautiful place and I like it. But I needed an outfit. Some new pieces to work with what I have. I didn't have much time. Or much money. So I set out for my old standby, JCrew.

Here's what I found:

I needed this cashmere sweater like a hole in the head. I got it in light grey. It WAS $158 and I got it for $28! So I had to get it. I will live in this thing in October. It didn't fit any of the descriptions of what I needed. Not for now, not very flattering, but oh so cashmere.

I saw these shoes on their site a few weeks ago and wanted them. I bought a pleather type version of this sandal at Target not long ago and love the look. These are much nicer and were mine for the low, low price of $28. Only $14 more than my Target ones. Retail: $88. Suckers.

So THIS is how these are supposed to look? They look nothing like this on me. At all. Oh well. But I own a pair now. Gonna pair with tunics and sandals and jewelry. Seriously? This girl has got to be like 6 feet tall. And very hungry. Retail $98. I paid $16!Lastly, I got this lovely linen jacket. It is fully lined. Sophisticated, yet natural. I can pair it with a skirt and pumps for work or jeans a t-shirt for the one day this summer it is not 100 degrees and I can get jeans on without breaking a sweat. So, maybe white linen pants and bare feet. Retail $158. Clean Living Price $35.

This entry is solely for Laura Chambers Steen. I wish you had been with me. This way we can pretend. And not have to email photos back and forth via iPhones and Blackberry's and keep hanging up and calling each other back and forth with comments and praise. Happy Birthday. I wish I was there. :(

Granny Davis

My grandmother is dying. My first thoughts are, "you were not a very good granddaughter", "you could have been closer", "you should have done more". I was what I knew to be, so was she. We didn't talk a lot or share our hearts or dreams or emotions,but she fed me the greasiest, best mac and cheese ever. She pulled me on her lap, blanketed by an A-line polyester dress, knee-highs rolled down like Thelma Harper. She gave me the greatest gift any human being has ever given me. She gave me her heritage. She showed me Jesus in every day of her life.

Madge Lee McDowell was born 90-something years ago, June 11th to Susan Madge Parkman McDowell, who had been recently widowed. Her husband arose one morning, left his wife, sons, James, Herbert, and John Henry and daughters Carrie Mae, Marie, and Grace to help a friend who was away, with his cotton field in the adjacent property. John Wilson McDowell lost his arm and hours later, his life, to Eli Whitney's cotton gin. He was brought to the porch of their newly built farmhouse in a wheel barrow. I think he knew at the time that his wife was a few months pregnant with a child, but he never knew Madge Lee McDowell Davis, or me.

I could write a novella about her life in rural South Carolina, how she used to take off her stockings at the end of the road before going to school, fell and broke her arm riding side saddle on a horse while holding Easter eggs and got to go to college. One chapter would be about how she met my grandfather and their time in South America.

But what I see now at this moment was a child with no father, who knew the Father like no one else I know. Granny Davis lived a life of ministry and a life of knowing that her Father was Christ Jesus and they had relationship. She went once a week to the Nursing Home to love on those who no one else loved on. I went with her one time. I still remember. There was a young girl there, who was paralyzed. In a wheel chair. Lying down. She smelled like saliva and urine. Granny Davis loved her. She spent her whole day there. And she loved on them. She doted on them. She thought those people hung the moon.

James 1:27

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

That is precisely what she did. And I honor her for that.

We joked about how we always knew on Friday night's that Granny and Papa Davis would be at the Funeral Home, but that was simply her... loving widows.

She became a school teacher after her children were grown and she loved those school children as her own. She taught them scriptures for every letter of the alphabet. In public school. In the 70's. One student became severely burned as a teenager, his entire body, in a car accident I think. His face scarred beyond recognition. It freaked me out as a child. His picture was up in the room in the hall and I would never go in there. She would go and visit him and he, her and she loved him. So much.

Where do you get this love for the unlovely? From the Father. The Father she knew so well. The Father who never turned His gaze from her. Who knew everything about her. Her favorite flower, games to play, her deepest desires.

She talked to Him all the time. She would pace the floor at night and talk to Him as she waited on her son, Henry to come home, praying for his safety. She talked to Him as she washed dishes and asked Him to hold, watch over and protect her children and grandchildren.

And I know that I am here because of her Father. She introduced Him to me through a life that said, "I am not an orphan. I am not alone". And then, she interceded to Him, on my behalf. And He knows me, like He knows her and He is filling my cold, cold heart, with love. Her prayers at the kitchen sink, stored up for me, will cover me for a lifetime. I get to walk in a heritage that is rich, knowing Him.

This moment hurts. Knowing she is uncomfortable. It is my prayer in this very moment and in the days to come that she won't be in pain and will be able to rest and simply step into Heaven. And meet face to face with both father's for the first time, Father God, father John. The jewels in her crown are huge. Good and faithful servant. Religion pure and faultless. Honored am I to walk in the lineage of a woman as kind, loving and compassionate as Madge Davis. Forever grateful am I for those kitchen sink prayers. He heard her cry. He came to me. I have a life of knowing Him, because of her. Plain and simple. Every life I ever touch out of compassion and love, is because of her.

Saturday

Despite working lots and hitting the jackpot at "da Club" last night (Thanks, party of 6, for individually ordering glasses of the same wine at $11 a glass when you totally could have just bought a bottle for way cheaper), I got to go to Carla's on Saturday. We had Mexican Siesta. Yes, I know it is "Fiesta", but Emma Grace got them mixed up when she was 2 and it is now stuck in my head that way. Carla made Mexican Bean Casserole, Spring Mix Salad with Cucumber and Tomato and Cream Cheese Black Bean Apricot Chutney Something or Other Dip. I brought Roasted Red Pepper Greek Yogurt Dip.

Courtesy of the Kroger Clearance Aisle. Yes, I am that girl. I buy discounted grocery items. It's an obsession. I pay no attention to expiration dates. Especially on yogurt items. It is already cultured milk anyway, so how can it be spoiled-spoiled milk? What's another day? or two? or seven? But that just pertains to my own consumption. And family Mexican Siesta's. If you have me over, I will make it fresh. From scratch. No where near the expiration date. I promise. In a fancy dish and everything.

The girls had a Lemonade Stand. They were raising money for childhood cancer. They raised $70! In their little neighborhood. Evidently there is this organization, "Alex's Lemonade Stand".

They send you all you could ever need to host your own stand, a banner, lemonade, bracelets, even temporary tattoos. I am still sporting mine. I got a Mason jar from the kitchen cabinet, poured it half full with tea and then went outside to the Stand and topped it off with lemonade and sat with Catherine, under the umbrella, sipping my Arnold Palmer, and applied my Tat with a wet paper towel. It was hot. Catherine read her library book and I smiled big at passers by, trying to lure them in for a refreshing beverage. We had one taker. The man from across the street. I spent the rest of the time trying to think of a really good excuse to go inside. Mom and Dad arrived and I seized the opportunity and went inside to "visit" with them.

Having just gotten back from Bolivia, they brought presents. I got a necklace. It is gorgeous. I will show you. Carla and crew had just been to the beach. They gave me a neclace too. It is pretty. It is beaded. I love it. I am wearing it now. With my pink jcrew beaded t-shirt. Black skirt. Target open toe heels, which I hate. They make loud noise when you walk. Hair in same half-pony tail thing it was in all day yesterday at work. I slept with it up. Got up. Smoothed it with my hands. Voila'. I hate combing my hair. This is a joy of being an adult. I don't have to. So I don't. But if you have me over, I will comb it and wash it and everything.
After present opening, I lured the boys out on the back porch for decent sunlight with the point and shoot and took these:

Poor Carson. He got glasses. We all had glasses. Dad, Carla, me. It kinda makes me sad, because they are no fun. I had Lasik. But how cute is this face? And so cute with his little specs. And silly bands. And pursed lips. And ear lobes. And my sister's face.

He makes this face all day long. It is his, "I am about to tell a joke but would not dare actually laugh" Face. He is the straight man for sure.

And then there's this guy. Nathaniel. Or as he calls himself, "Natty the Two Year Old".

He went down for a nap while we were there, but when he woke up we had left. Carla said he was upset and kept saying, "But I NEED them". I need you too, Natty. In my arms, your cheek on my lips. Forever and a day.

North America Tour

I just returned from a tour with Iris Ministries. I am beyond exhausted. I just took a two hour nap, most of it sitting upright with my mouth open. That kind of tired. I came home to a huge stack of mail and bills and a tag on the door that told me my grass was too high. Oh, well. Tomorrow. The suitcase is open by the washing machine and I am slowly unpacking. My stomach is growling, but the only thing in the fridge, Greek Yogurt, expired in April. The jug of milk looks as if it is bulging a little and I fear taking the top off. But, it is good to be home.

We were in Boston, Fredericksburg, Toronto, Orillia, Ottawa, and Cleveland, Ohio. I loved Boston. We were near Cambridge. You could feel the smart people. The whole area was safe and pedestrian friendly, with great massive square with shops and restaurants of every cuisine you could desire. I got to have Sushi with my friend Tanya. You have read about her. I met her last summer in Mozambique and she is radical and she dreams in color about sustainable farming and development, like me.

I didn't get to see any of Fredericksburg, other than the venue and the hotel. However, I really liked the Fredericksburg Prayer Furnace and the band St. Lorel and the music of Andrea Marie Carr, and you would too.

The next stop was Canada. It was all good and productive and beneficial. Our goal is to share the experience of Iris Harvest School of Missions and help plug others in to the ministry. This took place at every meeting and it was fun to watch it all unfold. We met with some radical, amazing people; Relief workers, AIDS and Cancer Researchers, Engineers, Scientists, Activists, Revivalists...I got to do all of this following in the shadow of Helene Inga, one of the most amazing women I have ever met. We did mission school together in 2007. She is a concert pianist from Iceland. And that is only one of her giftings. My life has changed as a result of just hanging out with her for 10 days. She wants to study law and Opera and be a voice for the voiceless and the oppressed. And she will be. She is. I miss her.

Our final leg was in Ohio. I have never been to Ohio. What to you do in Ohio? My mission school friend Jen, picked me up at the airport and drove with me to the hotel. It was so good to see a friend and to have her help and she brought me a veggie sandwich with avocado. While in Youngstown, I got seated next to a sweet blonde with an accent named Maggie. We exchanged handshakes and names and that was it. Two days later she stood in front of me as I registered 1,500 youth for Jesus Culture in a town two hours north, which I worked at as a BSSM student. We laughed at the irony and she handed me her business card. Jesus Culture was beautiful to watch and I was honored to serve. I went back to my hotel, exhausted, from all the travel, lack of sleep, and watched a huge fireworks display from the Cleveland Indians stadium right outside my window, soaking it in as if it were just for me. They lost, but they celebrate anyway and it made me smile. I was even able to get away one afternoon and stumbled into this stunning cathedral. I sat on a little embroidered pillow on the floor and listened to gentle songs of Laura Woodley on my iPod and rested here. It felt so good.

The following day I looked up from my pew of the little church I was visiting that morning and there was Maggie again. I was so happy to see a familiar face, a friend, from way back to Tuesday! This time, she took me to lunch. Her husband Jeff told me about this great buffet and my heart sunk a little bit. If you know me, you know I am a food snob and the buffets I know are not pretty. Oh, but little did I know. We went to this place:

Sweet Jesus. Big God. Little me. I could have cried in my Sauvignon Blanc. Big tears. I was so happy. I was so sick of cashews and waxy apples and food on the go and bad airport sandwiches. And here before me was nothing short of Ritz Carlton Sunday Brunch with a breathtaking view. I could barely enjoy the food, for the big huge lump in my throat of being so totally undone, by such a wonderful blessing, a glorious meal, and new powerful, amazing friends. Thank you, Maggie and Jeff.

Harvest School

Currently in Canada, meeting with engineers, nurses, relief workers, graduate school students, NGO workers, who all want to get involved!

A tiny update

In keeping up with my personal goals of writing more and forcing creativity and self expression, I reckon I need to post a little update on what all is going on. Clearly not paying any attention to properly ending sentences and just putting it all on paper, here it goes: Working lots. Jobs 1 & 2. In Job 1 I just completed my 13th legislative session. In Job 2, I just got home from a 13 hour day. Still madly in love with my Yamaha P85 and cannot spend enough time with her. And as if I had nothing else to do, I have taken on a little volunteer job with Iris Ministries. As you may recall, this is the group I just visited this past summer, attended their mission school and with whom I am interested in doing full time missions, perhaps.

I say that word a lot. Perhaps. I start sentences with it, end sentences with it. Answer questions with it. I love that word. So fitting for most all things. "Perhaps you would like some chocolate"? "Perhaps". It is an adverb and a noun. Meaning, possibly but not certainly, open to doubt. It is a shortened version of, "kinda sorta... not really", which is my other favorite phrase. I reckon I feel that if I precede the words "not really" with "kinda sorta", the blow of "no" is not so bad.

This is the very reason why I have not been here to write, delirium ensues. I am so tired and exhausted that my poor little mind can't even hold a thought together for one little minute. But now, upon reflection, I should not use the "p" word at all in referencing missions and all that. It is only a matter of time. Simply praying into when, where, and how. So that is that.

Iris Ministries asked if I would help set up small teams to take to conferences around the U.S. and Canada. If you are a Harvest School student and want to know more. Write me! We are there to simply serve as an extension of the ministry, share more about the school, the variety of projects supported by Iris, how others can get involved and the like. Doctors, Nurses, Engineers, Teachers, Policy Analysts, man, woman, boy and girl, we can use anyone and everyone! I love seeing the faces of people who have deep heartfelt dreams to serve in Africa and want to come. Their excitement is contagious. I love playing a small role in equipping them in their lifelong dreams to serve. And I love the way they teach me how to love. I am so inept at it. I am not much of a hugger, not much of a talker, pretty oblivious to most things around me. But these missionary types are all so kind and sweet and affectionate and such good listeners, attentive and generous. I am learning a lot from them. Soon, we will be traveling to Boston, Fredricksburg, Toronto, Orillia, Ottawa and Youngstown, OH.

Updates to come, perhaps.

Photo Courtesy of Micheala Potterbaum

Another Day in the Studio

Okay, maybe not another day. Maybe just the only day ever. However, there are more to come! I know it. For Bethel School we had to do a group project. My group wrote a song! Kerric was the encourager. Ben, the musician and I, the lyricist. Yep, I wrote it. Years ago I was inspired by Rolland Baker's teachings on falling in love with Jesus and how easy the relationship is with Him. You don't have to strive, struggle, fast, sweat or struggle to have a relationship with Him. It is easy. No agenda. I could write a whole sermon and testimony of this alone. Rolland also encouraged my creativity, telling us all that we should be singing our own worship that's deep inside. Some of it all came out! And on paper. And on the piano and leaked in the studio and is now a delightful little powerful song. We had fun. But Studio work is hard work. Eeek. It took forever. And was kinda boring at times really and I felt so inept. Gotta get busy practicing my keys so I can at least play a more vital part. But my words rocked. The song is nice. You can hear it. Someday.

Queens- Part 2

Colorful visuals of the Bubble Tea and fun Korean shops. I must go back. So much to see and do and eat. This shop was  fun.

The Bubble Tea. 

This makes me want one. Korean Candy is good too. I had those yummy Asian Candy treats in Africa and thought they were amazing and thought it was because I was starving. But, no, they are really just that good.

The Porter

This place recently made my Favorite Things.  Located in Little Five Points, it is a great place to spend an afternoon, choose from a massive selection of complex brews from around the world, and have a warm, delcious meal. They even offer pairing selections! You must go.

 These are fried goat cheese with honey. They knew I was coming.

Found it!

It was in my travel cooler. That's where you keep your camera right? In an insulated bag with all your food? I have been on the road a ton lately. Long weekend at Morningstar to hear Girls Out Loud, then back to Ft. Mill for a Conference with Iris Ministries, work, class, other work. Lots going on. I took my dry cleaning that has been in the trunk of the car since March 2009, and even picked it up! My legs are shaved. But the lawn is a jungle. Clothes are in the washing machine. But I have not checked the mail in days. But there are so many good things on here and I am so glad I found it. Or else you would not get to see him:

My adorable meat eating nephew, Nathaniel.

 He has dimples in his hands. And his teeth in my heart.

Long Island- Part I

I have been waiting for a quiet moment to sit down and write about my recent trip to Long Island. And now here I am in a moment of solitude and I can't find my camera! Where could it be? When did I have it last? I usually carry it everywhere I go. It is not in my bag. It will turn up. Eventually. So all you get are two pics that Sophia took:

I love Sophia. We were in mission school together, and although we lived  100 yards from each other I really didn't get to know her well. I sat with her once when we both went up to visit with the older girls in the Children's Center and she made popcorn and it was really good. Little did I know this girl is a professional. She is a real Foodie. She loves food and she can eat. She is tiny, tiny, but can eat like no one else I know...although someone comes to mind. Sophia is Korean and wanted me to experience authentic Korean Cuisine. So we drove through downtown Flushing and Queens until she found the perfect spot, a little Korean dive. I love dives.


The places where the locals eat. Except for BBQ dives, those are just gross. But Asian food dives with yummy fresh vegetables in fresh spices and crunchy rolls of amazingness. So good. Sophia ordered for me and I could not tell you what we had, but it was good. Really, really good. We got these gooey pumpkin cake things to go. It's called DDUK in Korean. However you say that. I like the texture of Asian foods. We went to the Korean Market and I bought candy for the kids. The best gummy candies you have ever put in your mouth. Ugh! I took pictures of all that too. Will put them here when the camera appears. Where could it be? Oh, I pray I have not lost it. Surely not.

But after the market we went into all these delightful Korean shops that all looked like Hello Kitty Sanrio stores that were so colorful and fun and you could stay in there for hours. Tiny intricate key chains in every shape and design you can imagine. Slim little notebooks and pencils and candies and all sorts of treasures in pink. The notebooks had poorly translated English written on the covers that made no sense whatsoever and we laughed hard at them. Kinda like the "Jesus Save You" t-shirt I saw in Africa, but funnier than that even.

Then we had Bubble Tea. Sophia got one flavor and I got another so that I could taste different kinds. That's what good friends are for. Mine was almost like a hazelnut flavor and Sophia's was fruity. They were served cold in big clear plastic cups with the biggest straws you have ever seen. The Bubbles are huge round dark tapioca. It is a sweet iced beverage with a chewy treat at the bottom. Strange I know. But good. Not something you would want every day, but absolutely something you must try. I have heard you can get them on Buford Highway in Atlanta. But don't go alone.

Sophia has invited me back and I am checking AirTran flights. Maybe it's on the kitchen counter? Or in the trunk? Part II coming soon....