Failed to Mention...

Oh, and during that same Jell-o promo at the zoo, I also met a little 3 year old boy named Anakin. No lie. I always knew there were a few running around somewhere, but I'd yet to meet one. His dad called him over to play some game we had laid out, and when they finished and came to pick up their jell-o samples, I confirmed it.

"Did you say his name was Anakin?"

The dad (who you could never tell was a fanboy just by looking at him) confirmed it with a huge nerdy grin. I had to grin back.

This Won't Be A Habit.

But today, I spent the majority of my day at the STL Zoo doing a promo for Jell-o. I thought it might be fun for you to see what I put my digestive system through today.

Food Journal 6/28/10

- honey wheat bagel with whipped strawberry cream cheese
- cup of chocolate mousse pudding
- cup of dulce de leche pudding
- cup of blue raspberry jello
- package of peanut butter crackers
- half a cup of chocolate pudding
- several bottles of water
- cup of strawberry jello
- 2 hand breaded chicken fingers
- 2 loaded potato skins
- 1 small square of cheese pizza
- roasted red pepper hummus & wheat thins
- small bowl of banana pudding (w/ real bananas and nilla wafers)
- 4 mini guinness chocolate cupcakes

I'm sorry, body. We'll do better tomorrow. Or maybe Wednesday.

Yum & Yay

It's been a pretty magnificent couple of days.

Wednesday, we (read: me, Todd & Erin) went over to the Fabulous Fox Theatre to try and win tickets to Wicked. They were running a lottery and if your name got pulled, you got to buy 2 tickets for $25 each on the second row of the theatre (partial view, but still excellent seats).

Todd's name got pulled! We got buttons, and Todd went to the box office to buy the tickets. But we still needed to buy one more seat, so I go to the box office window two down from him and just as we're about to drop another $45 for a seat in the first balcony, a lady comes by and says that since I didn't win the lottery, I can buy a ticket anywhere in the house for $40 bucks. So the box office lady quickly does another scan and finds me a ticket in the orchestra section! Forty bucks! I paid her and walked outta there grinning like a fool.

We get in the car and realize our seats are actually really close together! Row B, seats 10, 12, & 14. I didn't quite understand where row B was (that chart thing is kind of confusing). An hour and a half later, after a marvelous homemade spaghetti extravaganza, we get back to the theatre for the show and realize that for some reason, all the seats in our row are numbered evenly. So 10, 12, & 14 are all in a row.

In short, I got to experience one of my favorite musicals for the second time (and it was better the second time!), sandwiched between my husband and lil sis. AND I got to see both of them experience it for the first time (they both thought it was magnificent), all from the second row of the orchestra section. It was fantastic. I laughed out loud at Galinda's antics and shed a tear during "For Good" thinking of my beloved roommates. It was such an excellent night.

Thursday night, we attended our Financial Peace class and Todd's mom had us over for dinner afterwards. Free food and family is a great combination.

Friday afternoon, we sold one of our vehicles. For more on that, see the post below this one. It's a very good thing. And on Friday night? We celebrated. Our friend Joel turned 30 and Todd and I went out with him and his wife and our friends Josh and Kim to celebrate. There were mojitos and there were tapas. Lots of tapas. Braised short ribs with cherry reduction on green apple smashed potatoes, lobster/crawfish risotto, tilapia spring rolls, short ribs mini burgers with potato cakes and smoked ketchup, herbed gnocchi with asparagus sauce, flash-fried baby artichoke hearts with sweet chili sauce, pot stickers with peanut sauce and petite beef tenderloin with wilted spinach and blue cheese butter. Holy palate extravaganza, Batman. It was unbelievably delicious.

After dinner we indulged in some heavenly homemade ice cream desserts at the Fountain on Locust, and capped the evening at iTap, Soulard's newest, hippest brewpub, with 50 beers on tap and 450 in bottles. I had Bells Oberon Summer Ale, it was lovely.

There's not a whole lot of things better than good food and good beer at a cool place with good people. It's been a wonderful week/end. :)

Venting... An Epilogue

Sometimes I forget that God is so much bigger than $75.

Stupid? Absolutely. But I can be such a halfwit when it comes to chilling out and trusting Him. Every now and then, I have to be smacked around a little bit. And this time, well He used 30 teenagers from Fort Worth to get the point across.

Last week, August Gate participated in a youth missions camp called PowerPlant. Kids from all over the country go to different cities and help local church plants in the area by doing service projects or whatever the church needs done. The group that helped us was from Cana Baptist Church in Burleson, TX. Their youth group helped us clean, organize and paint the children's area inside the church we rent from and they did some landscaping around the neighborhood as well. They were such great kids and really did a great job with everything.

At night, after the service projects and dinner, they all met back up at a local university campus for their evening worship and teaching time. Todd was the evening speaker for the week (which was pretty surreal to observe, after being a youth camper myself for SO many years), and on Monday night, speaking about the way the Gospel should change our hearts as well as our actions, he brought up the story about our neighbors.

At that point, I was perfectly aware of the way I needed to internally handle that situation-- but I wasn't there yet. I was still pissed. We didn't have the money for the ticket and our neighbors were passive-aggressively antagonizing us. I wanted time to sulk a little.

To keep the ticket from doubling, we'd gone to set a court date, trusting that the money would get figured out before the middle of July.

On Friday morning, while Todd was laying out the plan for their final day of work, the kids interrupted him and presented him with a weathered manila envelope with "PTO" printed in sharpie on the front.

Parking Ticket Offering. Contents: $126.00 of their own money.

Needless to say, I was immediately humbled and convicted about my ridiculous behavior.

As of today, the ticket is paid in full and car that got the ticket (the Element) is sold-- to a young guy and his pregnant wife from Fayetteville, Arkansas. We put it up on craigslist and within 3 days, we got a call. We were able to pay off the car loan and still made some money from the sale (which helps out with the last couple of bills this month). We'll be saving over $350/month being a one-car family, and since we both live and work so close-by its really not a big hassle. (We've been practicing for the past three weeks, it's SO nice not having to worry about parking at work :) Also, we just happen to be in the week of Financial Peace University where we do the debt snowball and talk about having "gazelle-like intensity" when it comes to getting out of debt. We were ready to sell the car. Wanted and needed to. Dave Ramsey affirmed our decision. And the Lord provided a buyer quickly. And guess what? The buyer paid cash. Two years worth of income tax returns. Done and Done.

God is good. Equally as good as He was the day we got the ticket. And as good as He will be on the day we're debt free.

This Here Is Real: *Vol. 2

*This might become a series. Or it might not.

Ten years ago this month, my first love asked me to be his girlfriend. It was a really big deal. It was the first tangible step in my "ridiculous obsession with love".

I didn't date until I was 15 and up until that point, I vented a lot of romantic frustration by writing. I made up beautiful, sappy courtships for fictional people. Or I re-imagined characters I'd seen on tv or in movies. I'd pull them out of the boring action stories their creator had placed them in and then tend to their sad, grossly unattended personal lives. I knew it was a parasitic approach to creation, but I wasn't old enough or creative enough to envision and birth an entire world and backstory for it by myself. So I spent years as a borrower—and I had a blast with it.

Sometimes I'd take characters who were already in a relationship and expand it, but other times, all I needed was an inkling that two characters were into each other and that their romantic tension was being neglected—then I'd go crazy.

I wrote stories about Power Rangers and Barbies. I wrote stories for cartoon characters, fictional action heroes, and the stars of my after-school tv shows. They all turned into musicals, sometimes with ice skating. Other times I pulled my favorite characters from one cast and stuck them into another cast. (If I was still into this, it would be like taking the characters from LOST and casting them in Les Mis, but still letting them have their behind the scenes relational drama.) True story. That was my life for years.

You can only imagine my shock, when as a 14 year-old, I discovered that I wasn't alone in this hobby.

Have you ever visited fanfiction.net?

Well… you may not want to. It's kind of ridiculous. And kind of amazing. But it was created for and by people with my same mindset; fans who thought they could do it better. Or fans who were just really bored and liked to write. There are categories on this site for everything; anime, movies, books, songs, tv shows, etc. All you have to do is be a fan and think you know exactly what is missing from some character's life.

For me, that character was the daughter of two heroes that meant a lot to me back in 1998. If you care to fly your freak flag and seek out the story beyond the six Star Wars films, you will find books. LOTS of books. And in them you will find new villains and new planets and new reasons to go to war. You will also find new heroes and weapons and academies on remote jungle moons where aspiring Jedi knights go to be trained. Among them, you will find the daughter of Han Solo and Princess Leia (they actually got married, in case you were wondering). Her name is Jaina. She is stubborn and sassy and extremely brave—exactly how you would expect the daughter of the aforementioned two to be.

In the books, Jaina was usually busy getting kidnapped or being hunted or slaying things and fighting in battles, and that was all great—but I couldn't figure out why she didn't have a boyfriend. So I wrote a story and gave her one. An awesome one who was charming and handsome and rough around the edges. He also happened to be a bad-ass starpilot, a guitar player AND he could dance. Dreamboat.

I worked on that story from the fall of 1998 until the fall of 2002. Even after my raging love for Star Wars died down, I was in love with my characters and I couldn't stop editing their lives. I still have the story. It's over 57,000 words on 190 pages in a word document. It's hilarious and dramatic and schmaltzy. But it's finished-- one of the few complete pieces I have. I don't think I'll ever give it to anyone (else) to read, but I'll also never throw it away. It had its place, served its purpose and it is now permanently archived.

So, there you have it. I wrote fanfic. Now that that's off my chest… onward and upward. :)

P.S. if you have read my fanfic and I still know you, you're one of a very select few (Lauren!). And you better not tell anybody how to find it! :)

Venting. Because Sometimes, That's What Blogs Are For.

Can I just tell you how angry I am at our next door neighbors?

Actually, Mr. Rogers would roll over in his grave if he knew I'd used his favorite friendly term of endearment to refer to the ignorant, hateful savages next door.

These people.

First of all. They have obnoxious dogs that used to bark at EVERYTHING THAT MOVED. AND LOTS OF THINGS THAT DIDN'T. They were constantly yelling at the dogs to shut up or come inside (they were NOT obedient on any front.)

Our other neighbor John, was also having a problem with the dogs barking at him through the fence whenever he was outside reading. So he bought a bag of treats, went over to the house, introduced himself and asked if he could also meet the dogs, give them a treat and let them sniff him in hopes that maybe they wouldn't freak out as much when they sensed he was outside.

The answer was a very unfriendly no and a door shut in his face.

The dogs (Elvis and Oreo, a rott and a border collie) also used to get in growling, snarling fights whenever Gotham came outside to go to the bathroom. Gotham rarely even sniffed in their direction, and NEVER barked. Dude Who Owns The House (who I will NOT physically describe because I can't do it without being ugly) had the NERVE to stick his rotund head over my fence and and tell me that we were gonna "have to do something because I'm not gonna be goin over and breaking up my dogs every time yours is outside."

(Because apparently it's my problem that you haven't trained your dogs to listen to you.)

I politely informed him that Gotham is an inside dog and only comes outside to do his business.

"Well, I'm gonna have to call Bob (our landlord) or something because I'm not gonna be breaking these dogs up all the time."

I told him to go right ahead. He never did.

And the dogs don't get into fights anymore either. Because a few months later, it turns out the the rott, which was ridiculously overweight, had diabetes. They didn't know about it and the dog suddenly went into a diabetic coma and died.

Second Incident: Last week, Todd accidentally parked in the wrong spot after picking me up from work late one night. Savage Neighbor Dude called the police to come out and had a $75 ticket placed on our car for parking in his handicapped spot. Granted it was our mistake, but it was a complete accident. And they claim they didn't know the car was ours, even though it's been parked right next to theirs for 8 months. Also, I'm sure you can obtain one for a number of reasons, but we still can't figure out who in that house the handicapped sign applies to.

Third Incident: The brick wall that we share with their yard is leaking from the outside in. It's flooding our kitchen and our downstairs neighbor's bedroom. Today, we got this email from our landlord.

---

We have been in talks with Andre Tuckpointing trying to get the south wall tuckpointed and sealed. Unfortunately, we are getting a lot of kickback from the neighbor. We are spending our time trying to smooth things over in order to get the wall fixed. As it stands, the tuckpointers need to enter the neighbors yard in order to complete the tuckpointing and the neighbor is refusing to let them enter at this time. We have discussed with the tuckpointers another option of possibly temporarily repairing the wall from the inside but they said the tenants would have to move out for at least 4 days so that is not an option. Lastly, we have decided to have a tarp installed on the south wall to keep the rain from penetrating the wall and entering into the apartments. Unfortunately, they were unable to get it installed before this massive rain. As soon as the rain lets up they will get to the apartments to get it installed. It is a first item on their list.

---

To top it all off, these people have a huge Confederate Flag on a giant pole in the middle of their yard.

And I'm done.

Except to say that suddenly, the handicapped sign makes sense.

Tweet Essays

I don't tweet. But if I did, I'd talk about things like this...

***

Being American, aged 18-30 and possessing an iPod entirely devoid of any music by Michael Jackson or Stevie Wonder, renders you utterly questionable and untrustworthy in my book.

***

I'm pretty sure every teenage girl wished for this to happen at some point, but I'd like to meet or hear form the 1 in 5000 young woman who actually went to the pool or the waterpark in the summer, made eyes at the lifeguard, rode the slide 3 times, got the lifeguard's number on the 3^rd ride and ended up dating him for the summer. Or longer.

Does that really only happen in movies? Or did somebody live it? Not some contrived mess either, I don't want to hear about anyone throwing themselves at a lifeguard. I just want to know if anyone's ever found true love at the pool or on the deck of a water slide. I'd like to find out that somebody married the lifeguard.

Somebody find me a real life Squints & Wendy Peffercorn, please.

***

My brewpub restaurant job triggered this next thought—but I am shocked by how many people show up to work nowadays, lookin a hot mess. If you're interacting with the public all day, don't you want to look like you took a second to put yourself together? Nobody wants to buy anything from someone who looks like they've been studying for finals all night long.

Guys have no excuse. It takes you like 75 seconds to get ready. Ladies, if you're chronically running late, why not invest in a Go Bag, that has all your basic prettying essentials inside? Then all you gotta do is take five minutes once you get to work and get it together. Being punctual is very important, but do you really think you're gonna feel better about being on time if you have to walk around the office or the restaurant looking afright all day? And if you're already late—what's five more minutes?! If you're already late, there's NO point in looking crazy when you walk in. At least let people believe that you were doing something that caused you to be late.

Is time the issue here? Or do people just stop caring? There's no excuse for that.

***

I have what I lovingly refer to as a half-fro. Ergo, at night, I sometimes/usually have to wrap my hair up in a silken headscarf. The scarf I have is brown with some kind of animal print on it, but its pretty subtle. It's not ugly, it just looks very—ethnic. And in the morning, when I take it off, it takes me all of five minutes to do my hair without a curling/straightening iron. It's fabulous. The scarf keeps the curls curled and the straightening straightened.

What amazes me is how nonchalant I've become about Todd seeing me in my headscarf. My 24-year old self would probably be appalled. But Todd is not weirded out by it at all, In fact, he likes it. That's part of why I married him.

But I still won't let him see me in a shower cap. #interracial marriage

This Here Is Real.

Can I just be honest for a minute? I feel like I haven' t been. I feel like I've been trying to impress people and then feeling foolish and depressed that I can't.

I don't know what this blog is for anymore. I don't have time for it. I don't make time for it. It doesn't really have purpose like I want it to. Not even selfish purpose.

I've been defining myself as a writer for as long as I can remember. Ever since I was small, I've wanted to tell stories, woo people with my words and paint beautiful pictures for them with my marvelous penchant for syntax. I've wanted to string words together that cause people to think and emote and have life-changing experiences. I still want to do that.

I've also been keeping this blog for awhile, hoping it would be something cathartic for me that internet browsers and potential future employees would stumble upon and fall in love with for my wittiness and engagingness and ability to compose a sentence using nonsensical verbage in a charming way.

I haven't done any of those things.

I've abandoned this blog. I could say I'm barely writing anymore but the truth is, I'm doing a lot of dreaming and not writing a damn thing. I haven't touched a story in I don't know how long. I'm not writing for work or for play, I have no current projects.

I used to have projects every single night. I'd come home from work and write till 3am, some nonsense about superheroes or jedi knights and people falling in love and overcoming adversity.

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade this new life for anything… but it hurts, falling out of what I've been used to. I'm different now and I have a million things calling for my attention. I feel compelled to answer them all and in doing so I feel I have lost—am losing-- a piece of who I am. It sucks. I feel bad for my poor husband, because I've started having weepy breakdowns over this madness about once a month.

I can't stand it anymore.

So this is an apology and a promise. An apology for not making time for what's important, for something I love. A preemptive apology, knowing it will happen again and I'll have to be okay with it.

But mostly, a promise. A promise to stop just thinking about it and put something down, no matter how ridiculous. A promise not to get caught up in comments and website visits. A promise to make time to let words flow and not to give up on the tales I'm in love with, the characters I've created and bonded myself to and to the stories that have shaped so much of who I am.

Uncharted stories, unwritten words-- I'm not going anywhere. I'm making a comeback, albeit slowly. Expect some changes.

I promise I will always adore you, and while I may threaten you, I will never actually leave you.

And someday, eventually… I will write you.

Community

This past Sunday, this postcard was featured on the Post Secret blog*.

Several people wrote in to respond to it:

-----Email Message-----

Please don't jump. I also wanted to jump off two years ago but I'm glad I didn't because things are now much better.


-----Email Message-----

My friend jumped off it in 2006. She was legal. I still miss her like hell. She might not have felt like she belonged in San Francisco, but she belonged somewhere. So do you.


-----Email Message-----

Come to Indiana. I want you here. You could belong here.

---


Then this facebook group was started...


Which has led to this event, this coming Sunday.


There's no denying that Facebook is a huge time suck-- but every now and then, it joins forces with an incredible cult art phenomenon and redeems itself a little bit.


*FYI, the Post-Secret blog contains some adult images and content.

How it's been.

Sunday: Work 7-3, Church setup @ 3:30, First AG baptism, Em's last night before leaving for Haiti.

Monday: Breakfast with Kim, visit Grandpa @ hospital, Memorial Day BBQ, small group at our house.

Tuesday: work 7-4, Dollar Burgers @ Llewellyns, attempt to tame my hair.

Wednesday: work 7-4, dinner at home, Cardinals game with Genteman fam.

Thursday: work 7-3, snack at home, drive to IL for Financial Peace University @ FBC Bethalto, dinner with Genteman fam.

Friday: bank, groceries, bills, laundry, etc, work 6:30-midnight @ Schlafly.

Saturday: eat breakfast, return library books, work 1-5 @ Dentyne promo gig, work 6-midnight @ Schlafly.

Sunday: start over.

Mix in my parents coming to visit for a week (which was wonderful), training a slew of new people at work, looking for a job that will let me use my degree, and sleeping.