Drawing to a Close

Yesterday I spent the morning and early afternoon with Lewis and his mama in Jersey City. We had a wonderful time catching up and simply being together.

We shared some wonderful goodies from Whole Foods: beets and broccoli and something called Energy Salad with peanuts, bean sprouts and raisins. Liisa was raised in Finland, where her parents still live, so her knowledge of amazing cheeses is much better than mine. We snacked on crusty breads and stinky cheese before enjoying the 50 degree weather.

We walked along the river while Lewis napped enjoying the sunshine and the last days of 2011. Before I knew it, it was already 4:00pm and I needed to head back into Manhattan.

I love my visits to Jersey, though. They make me feel rested and well and it's nice to be in the company of such wonderful people as The Mercks.

...

Today is the last day of 2011. When I get off the couch from typing this post, the sun still not really quite up yet, I will trot off to the gym and crank out one last hard, sweaty workout. After lunging and pushing and pumping along to the music playing from my iPod I'll head back home.

On a somewhat unrelated topic, I think I am the only person who cries at the gym. Yesterday, pumping my legs on the stationary bike along to Tim Suel (who is one of the music ministers at this church my sisters attended during college- I think?) I got lost in the words and emotion overwhelmed me. I'm the person that mouths the lyrics while doing cardio, and on the bike I use the handle bars as drums. As if you doubted...Anyway, his songs are so powerful and the lyrics just hit me. Maybe I just needed it.

But that is not it, the day before in yoga, just sitting still was enough for me to get weepy. This is when I know I need to slow down. The instructor asked up to picture a sunset/ sunrise that we had seen at some point in the past and I thought of a time while driving through Cody, Wyoming the summer before we moved to NYC. We were traveling with the Stockhammers and the sunset was breathtaking. We pulled the car over and just sat there and watched. We opened the doors and tried to capture it with our cameras, but the photos I have do the massive, vast landscape no justice. It was a big sunset.

God talks to me at the gym. When I'm listening, I guess. When I'm singing along to Madonna's Ray of Light, probably not so much. But I do think God can speak through non-Christian music and art and books.... Just probably not Lady Gaga's Born this Way.... But Dave Matthews- YES!

....

So back to TODAY-

After gyming it I have a 12:00 appointment with Coco for a haircut on 10th Street and Avenue A. I love the East Village and haven't been down there in awhile. So after my newly shaped and trimmed hairdo (no bangs guy- I just can't commit to that!), I plan on sitting at Angelica Kitchen for some delicious vegan foods and journaling. It's a simple place and I could use some simplicity today.

That is really all I have on the agenda. Oh, and I may buy some new pens though- for journaling. And maybe do a load of laundry... (I know the excitement abounds in this New Yorkers life.) No New Year's Eve parties. I will not ring in the New Year with blow horns and party hats and bottles of Champagne (although someone at work gave me a bottle as a Christmas gift...)

Chris preaches tomorrow at our church, so we'll turn in early. There is only one service and the rumor is there will be about forty people in attendance. I think there will be more. We shall see.

After church the current plan is to go ice skating at Bryant Park with the youth group. Again, we shall see.

Happy 2012. Reflect. Resolve. Renew.

XO

Stef

I could. And I will!!

I have ample time to write right now. In a office where 90% of the staff are off this week I could be sharing so many stories with you. But I've been reading and journaling and surfing the internet.

I've discovered Pinterest which is highly motivational and inspiring.

....

Our Christmas Even and Christmas day were really non-traditional in that Chris and I spent the days just the two of us, together, apart from our family. We both sang in the Christmas Eve Service at our church and attended a Christmas Day service at Saint Thomas's on Fifth Avenue. Sunday morning we exchanged smallish gifts while eating a big breakfast that I made of bacon, eggs and toast. We visited the tree at Rockefeller Center,walked through Central Park and ate a late dinner out on Christmas Day. Very New York.

I've been trying to rest well and reflect as the years end draws closer. I've been seeking to be purposeful in my words and reactions and how I spend my time outside of work. Even now, as we inch closer to January 1st, I don't feel like I have to wait until midnight to get motivated to change. And motivation is not really what I'm looking for but naming those desires that remain vague most of the time.

In 2012 I could become a mother.
I could plant a garden.
I could quit my job.
I could start my own business.
I could drink more tea and less coffee.
I could climb a mountain.
I could learn how to sew.
I could move across the street, across the country, across the globe.
I could volunteer with teenage mothers.
I could read the Bible in a year.
I could admit when I'm wrong and apologize quickly.
I could stop thinking that I'm just a kid with nothing to offer.

I could embrace my curves, my accent, my love of simple things.

I could go for it.
BIG TIME.

What do you want? What do you want to see/ experience/ have/ do?
And why aren't you?

And a Partridge in a Pear Tree (whew..........)

Two Calling Birds

Three French Hens

Christmas in New York City has really made me realize the materialism that abounds here, not only in NYC, but in our country as a whole. We are always needing something else, wanting more and having to get some other version of something we probably already own.

Walking along Fifth Avenue passing shop after boutique after designer label clothing store depresses me. I want to scream to the person who just bought a $1,200 hand bag that she is wrong. I want to tell the man who bought a tie for the upwards of $150, "you are completely insane." Seriously. And it's not because I'm jealous, or want hundreds of thousands of dollars, I just don't understand spending money for the sake of spending money, when $20 would provide someone in another country clean drinking water for twenty years. I don't understand, and I don't know how I can evoke change- but I'm trying.

I guess that is one thing that being in NYC during Christmas has revealed to me.

The second is that we really don't have room for decorations or a tree or a all those snowmen platters or holiday dishes. Since moving to New York we purchased a tree one year out of our five Christmases. And it was a potted tree, more like a plant really. This doesn't depress me, it's just how it is. And I don't see the point in more stuff and more things when I feel so wealthy already. Wood, Hay and Straw my friends.

The third thing we've had to get used to in NYC, is giving money to our doormen for Christmas. I'm talking cold hard cash, because that is what they expect. I can not simply make a tray of holiday cookies, or buy a Christmas gift basket with cheeses and crackers and jams and such- they only take money in a Christmas card. I realize following my previous post about giving, you'd think that I'd be more on board with this idea. More generous. BUT, it's so hard!!! Because there are anywhere from 8-12 doormen and at at least $20 a person, if not more, this really adds up.

I think it upsets me too because I don't buy gifts for my own family (back in Texas) or close friends, but I have to figure out who Adrian and Arturo are so that I can get them their Christmas card. (Which they expect...) On a daily basis I don't even see all the doormen or porters- Oh, God help me have a more giving heart and not be so selfish.

That's my three. Three NYC Christmas norms that still don't seem quite so normal to me.

Four Calling Birds

Last night I called my mama while I did a load of laundry and painted my fingernails. I realize that these things seem to conflict; how can one sort, load, and unload washers and driers with wet fingernails? How can a person talk on a cell phone while painting her nails? Well, I did it, pretty well I might add.

I’ve never been a big phone talker. Except in my dating days, I guess. Spending hours at fifteen and sixteen and seventeen “breathing into the phone” as my dad would say. I just rather talk to you face-to-face. Or write a letter or email. Catching up over the phone is just awkward and talking on the phone to people I see every other day is unnecessary. I’m sure I do things daily that keep me from being present, but the idea of talking on the phone to someone I’ll see tomorrow just bores me.

Talking to family that I see once a year is different though. I should be more proactive in calling my sisters and mom & dad. Sometimes though, I just don’t know where to start. With what happened today? Yesterday? The biggest news of the month? And if I do have a free fifteen minutes or so and I don’t reach my mom, then I’m usually pretty bad about trying to call back. Until the next week, when it crosses my mind again.

I’m probably most comfortable on the phone with my mama. We talk about life in general: church, school, work, health issues, recipes, what’s going on in the lives of my siblings. I would dare say I actually LIKE talking on the phone with my mama. I’m pretty sure I go into another time and place and can simply be myself.

Five Golden Rings

The city is still humming and the Salvation Army bell is still ringing- at each and every entrance to Grand Central Station. But this morning as I approached the Helmsley Hotel on my walk west on 42nd Street, the sidewalks were still. These “city sidewalks” were not “busy sidewalks” at 8:00AM this morning as Bing Crosby and Carole Richards crooned.

This is the golden season- these are the days when many New Yorkers head out of town, and the holiday crowds are dwindling, though ever present. Then there are those of us who still remain. The commute is quieter, the bus less crowded, and there is enough room on the subway platform for me and my two oversized tote-bags. Strapped to my back I have my sneakers and my gym clothes, my Tupperware that carried my lunch, an umbrella and a bottle of wine that I received as a Christmas gift from someone at work.

Our office overflows with cheesecakes and wine (literally cases of wine) and baked goods. We’ve received Godiva gift baskets, Ms. Fields cookie tins and some, really cheap gift boxes with things like pretzels, cheese that can be kept at room temperature(?), stale nuts and shortbread cookies. One of my favorite things is the package that has European chocolates, teas and biscuits for all the chaps from the UK around here. All of this from clients and brokers; General Contractors who want our business. It is fun & nice, despite the constant looming of sugar and buttery things all day every day.

I think I’ve been gifted at least six bottles of wine. And I’ve put away a few goodies for later. It’s overwhelming to see all those candies and cookies and dried fruits. So, I just use my lunch baggies (after I’ve eaten the carrot sticks or crackers) and fill them with things I’d like to have later. If you snooze you lose around here, but I don’t want to simply gorge myself just so I can partake. I threw a oatmeal raisin cookie in the freezer for next week and I have a 85% dark chocolate bar in my desk drawer.

I'm not too upset when we receive gift baskets of pretty cookies (shown here) that probably taste like crap. These are *probably* stale Italian cookies that look more festive than they taste, do not entice me whatsoever. I learned my lesson as a young child that the sprinkle covered doughnut tastes the worst. Honestly, I'd like a few more baskets like this- ones that don't make me salivate.


I will be working next week. The phone will ring very little. And hopefully I can sit, read, and enjoy some down time without feeling bitter anxious and watching the clock as I think about how everybody is off work except for me.

Six Geese-a-Laying

I'm embarrassed to admit that in the past week I have purchased six new chapsticks/ lip glosses. That's right, the search for the perfect subtle, feminine lip shade got a little out of control. And it usually happens like this. And somehow all the lipsticks I own are all the same exact shade... Somehow.


So, I thought I'd give gloss a try. Even though in the past I've disliked the lack of shine, the stickiness and the way, for some reason, it always turns pink (and I mean PINK) on my lips.

First, I bought Burts Bees lip shimmer in Nutmeg(1), which was more like a tinted chapstick.

Then, a day later, Burts Bees tinted lip balm in Red Dahlia (2). I found both of these just as described- like tinted chapstick. I really like these two, but they are not as much color as I am used to wearing, but they will be in the rotation all winter.

Then, my beauty editor friend suggested liquid lip smackers sheer lip gloss in Dr. Pepper (3) flavor. She shared how it was "all the rage" when it arrived in her publications offices. It's affordable, glossy, and tastes great. I thought it was just okay. It wears off super quickly.

So why wouldn't I buy (for just $1.99) another lip gloss called Ice Angel (4) by a cosmetic company named Black Radiance when I was at Rite Aid looking for candies and treats and stocking-stuffer-type things to mail to my friend who is living in London right now? I'm pretty sure it's a line of makeup for women of color-- but this shade has made me quite happy. It's a dark gold/ brown shade and very shiny. However it's a little bit MORE color than I'd like.

So.... at CVS I purchased Maybelline Shinesational lip gloss in Berry Dazzle (5) when I spotted it in the 75%off basket on the cosmetics aisle. This one is my favorite gloss thus far. Shine, shimmer, a hint of color and sparkle!

I'm considering returning the Sally Hansen Lip Inflation Plumping Treatment (6) that I paid way too much for ($7.00+). It sounds quite intriguing though. The marketing alone has piqued my interest!!

Seven Swans-a-Swimming

My head has been swimming all morning. Well, since about 9:03AM when I was spoken at and not to. When I was told "I want" and "You will" and told to "not change the subject" when I tried to inquire why or how or where this entire conversation was coming from.

Some people are extremely hard to communicate with. Work with. Deal with day in and day out.

My head immediately began throbbing, my ears burning and all I wanted to do was pick up my purse and walk out the door. Even now, hours later I'm physically affected by the emotional bullying that I have to deal with... eight hours a day, five days a week. This person is just mean. Period. To anyone at any given time- you might be the next victim in the attack. I doesn't matter who you are or what you know; she has more knowledge and a better way to do any given thing. You are dumb. End of discussion.

I just hate being talked to like a ten year old. Like a child. Like an invalid. Like someone not qualified to do the job I do--- and do it well for that matter. I do not bark commands at people, I ask. I talk to people. I inquire. And it's hard being pushed around. It's not even every day, but you never know when it might just come tumbling down on you.

I wonder if it's because she ate an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's last night and feels guilty. Did her sister call and yell at her this morning on the phone? Man troubles? Did she forget her medication? Or is she just a black soul, selfish and vile and full of hate. I think she's never been loved well. She's never been taught or shown or believed in anything outside of what she can see and touch.

It's really a sad thing, and I shouldn't take it personally, because it's not- but today is a one of those days when enough is enough. I'd rather be jobless than have to face this face ever again.

Eight Maids-a-Milking

Sunday. Whew....

I broke my own "three things a day" rule today and did about eight...

1. Youth Sunday School

2. Church

3. Lunch out with the youth (one of the girls is moving to LA over Christmas break)

4. Food Emporium (for eggs)

5. CVS & Health Nuts (for hand soap and Almond Milk)

6. The Gym...

7. Home again to: cook up my foods for the week &

8. Finally clean the bathroom (really, really well)

I hate cleaning the shower. I think I hate it so much because I think the bathroom just has to be the nastiest room in the home, and I feel as if I need to spend hours with scrubbers and sponges and bleach and brushes getting every piece of mold or mildew and each tiny hair off the side of the toilet bowl. But I don't really even want to spend five minutes in there. Around that slimy drain.... Disgusting.

So I bargained with myself. I opted to clean the toilet, sink, mirror, floor and baseboards tonight & get to the shower tomorrow night. This left me with time this evening to chop cabbage and onions and make couscous.

...

At Health Nuts this afternoon I discovered a wonderful Stash Tea called Christmas Eve and it is simply delicious on this 20-something degree night. It is the perfect blend of orange, cinnamon, vanilla and spearmint. And at CVS, in addition to hand soap, which is what the initial trip to the drug store was for, I spent $19.00. BUT, I had a 25% off your entire purchase coupon which makes it alright, right? Toilet paper, Diet Ginger Ale, a can of Campbell's Tomato soup & a couple of nail polishes later (they were 75% off....1.99 plus the coupon... who could resist that??) Of course they are lovely shades of Thinking of Blue and Uptempo Plum. Completely work appropriate.

...

I'm looking forward to a *hopefully* slow work week. I'm hoping most everyone is on vacation, if not this week then next, or both. Because I am not. And I want to read my book and write in my journal! We are opened every day this week, closing at 4:00pm on Friday (really, that is what you consider early?!)

Chris and I will spend our fifth Christmas in New York City, in our tiny loft apartment. We will be singing in the Christmas Eve service on Saturday night and maybe have dinner or wine with the friends that are spending Christmas here as well.

I've mailed all my cards, bought the few gifts that I will buy and have my cinnamon scented candle lit. I'm ready. I've listed to Jewel, Harry, Mariah and Elvis. I've watched Miracle on 34th Street and The Office Christmas episode. I painted my toenails something called Star-Ring the Rockettes. It's very pink and sparkly and full of holiday cheer.

Unfortunately, no-one will be seeing my toenails as my second toe's toenail finally fell off and it is completely bare. This looks really odd because my second toe is my longest toe and it just sticks out there like a bare stalk; like a flowerless stem in a row of pink tulips. I stumped it severely in a middle of the night bathroom trek, going back up the stairs about a month ago. It was tragic and bloody and I cried so hard I laughed just to keep from crying even more. Chris thought I was in shock. Maybe I was.

Maybe by spring I'll have part of a toenail.

Nine Ladies Dancing

There were only six of us, and we were not dancing, but yesterday I got together with some sweet ladies to celebrate a birthday.

We met for brunch at 2:00pm at a place called The Sunburnt Calf on the Upper West Side. Brunch is a big-time-Saturday-deal in NYC. It's a big time deal at this specific place because for just $18 one can get a huge plate of pancakes, an omelet, a burger and fries and drink as many bloody Mary's as they would like- in two hours. I personally think 2:00 is more like a late lunch (trust me--- I ate breakfast way earlier in the day) but that was the earliest reservation available. Brunch implies a meal between breakfast and lunch.... but whatever. Most NYC restaurants serve "brunch" between 11-4.... , so maybe I'm the only person that this bothers.

We celebrated the 34 years of our sweet friend Jen, who in the last year has transformed in so many ways. Most obviously is that fact that she's lost 50 pounds and shared with many of us her journey along the way. She's had difficult conversations with family members she'd never thought she could have. She went back to college, took a different position at her job, and got a tattoo. And it's a beautiful tattoo--- not that I'm biased or anything. She actually sat with me during my last massive inking and decided to get a tattoo at that point. So she did---- by my tattoo artist, that very week.

Jen has learned how to feed her body, listen for when it says she's hungry and when she's not. She's learned that food can not fix sadness or loneliness or just sheer boredom. She ran her firt 5k in her 33rd year and bought the smallest pants size she's ever worn. And along this road, she's encouraged and inspired and been brutally honest and completely vulnerable. Emailing prayer requested, asking for accountability, working really hard to climb out of the heaviness and self-loathing that years of lies and bullying and fear can bring.

...

For two hours we talked, ate some wonderful foods and celebrated together. At 4:00pm when we parted ways on 79th Street and Broadway I was grateful that I can call this amazing person friend. That she's living it out, and not just talking it, but BEing it.

At 4:00 darkness was minutes away and the coldness was creeping up my tights. I just wore a pea-coat and left the pouffy, sleepingbag monster at home- but decided right then and there that heavy coat weather had arrived.

I like the Upper West side, and I'd have liked to wander a little more that I did, but I simply made a trip to Zabars with Liisa, while Jen and another gal headed to H&M to look for a Christmas Eve outfit. I bought some kitchen gadgets and a few food items: good olive oil, raw honey, imported cheese and some Borscht soup for dinner.

And that's okay. It's what I wanted to do.

Being in your 30's you realize that you spent most of your 20's trying to figure out who you were, what you wanted and how to be liked. In my 30's I've figured out who I am (somewhat), what I want, and that being like by everyone all the time is simply impossible. People will like me (my true friends anyway) when I am Who I Am.

Ten Lords-a-Leaping

There's a leaping in my stomach. A fluttering in my tummy, right below my belly button. A tightness in my throat. I've never been good at confrontation. At telling someone they hurt my feelings or that I am wrong or how I am really feeling when it might put them on the defensive.

When I'm angry- with a situation or with myself (this is the case more often than not) I try to distract my mind instead of marching forward with confidence into what may (or may not) be an difficult conversation. I go for a walk, go buy hand soap, chop carrots or wash a load of laundry. And it's always been this way as far as I can remember.

When I mess up- and hurt someone else- it could very easily take me two or three days to dig myself out of the trenches and stop replaying the entire scenario over in my mind. "What if I'd of not said this..." "What if I would have gone....." "What if she thinks I'm untrustworthy......" "What if I'd have said something sooner..."

A counselor once told me that I am can't say should have comments. And I can't live hypothetically. And I can't be frustrated with someone for something that they might be thinking.

I just want everyone to like me. (NEW FLASH: Not going to happen!) I just never want to disappoint anyone. (HELLO!!!)

This week a girl who worked in a building right next door to my office building was crushed when there was a terrible elevator mishap. The tragic news spread quickly and emergencies vehicles blocked the avenue most of the morning. It made me nauseous too, my heart sinking and my nerves jumping and the reality that we are all just a falling elevator car away from death. Every. Single. Day. Tragic really, that I'm not living like I could die tomorrow. I'm not guaranteed my next breath. Not to be morbid--- but we have to start really living and leaping and loving others more than ourselves.

Guilt is not what I want to feel. And I'm thinking that it may be the greasy pizza I just ate as much as it is my nerves right now, but I can't be frightened by difficult conversations, because, they are going to continue to happen. Who's right and what's wrong doesn't really matter to me as much as learning from my mistakes. Humbling myself to admit my pride -- which is probably what got me in this predicament in the first place. And changing.

Changing how I will handle the situation next time, because I know tomorrow will bring a next time.

Eleven Pipers Piping

.... or puppies panting in this case.

This is my middle sister, Chrissy with her two "children," Abe and Molly. Abe is a Brussels Griffon and he really is, well, sort of unattractive. He looks like an Ewok pretty much. Poor guy.

While home in Texas during Thanksgiving Chris and I spent most night with Chrissy and her husband Jeremiah in their beautiful home which she had already decorated for Christmas. There twelve foot tree stood in the living-room adorned with maroon and gold ornaments. The stocking were hung, and the nativity was set. Above the breakfast table she had hung red and gold Christmas balls from the chandelier.

Even the tiniest festive adornments had been placed in the kitchen and bathroom and entryway. My sister is very artistic and creative- and her home looked very festive.

I realize this has very little to do with Pipers or Piping, but my sister absolutely LOVES Christmas, which is why her house was decorated before Thanksgiving.... She loves finding just the right gift, and buying things for other people and baking! She is truly a marvelous baker because, unlike myself, she does not try to be chinchy with the sugar, she uses all the butter that the recipe calls for, she doesn't purposefully substitute skim milk for heavy cream and she knows the difference between baking soda and baking powder. I don't even own a double broiler.

She's a wonderful baker of white chocolate covered anything and caramel stuffed whatever and her holiday cookies and bars and truffles LOOK pretty. My baked goods are barely edible and they look, well, like something you wouldn't be proud of plating and taking to a Christmas get-together.

When I think of my sister Chrissy at Christmas I think of snooping in my parents closet, shaken packages, torn edges of wrapped presents and her stacks of gifts of Christmas morning. She liked to pile each of our gifts to see who's stack was the tallest. Obviously. Therefore revealing who mom and dad loved the most.... I was old enough to realize, however, that my charm bracelet and bottle of Exclamation Perfume cost just as much as her marble run and ant farm and leg warmers and basketball and klutz books on how to make your own friendship bracelets. But still, my pile was usually 1/4 the height of hers.

Chrissy loved- and still loves- sweets. For several years the three of us girls go a Whitman's sampler boxes of chocolate. We loved this because there was actually a sheet of paper inside the box that told you which chocolate was which kind. This changed the way I picked my chocolates forever. No more wondering if you would end up with a mouth full of caramel or peanut-butter. And the Strawberry, Lemon and Orange-creme filled squares: forget about it! I was not interested. In an effort to make my sugar last I'd stash this box away, knowing Chrissy's would probably be gone within a day or two.... and then she'd come looking for my candy.

Chrissy was the only daughter with bangs. The only one with brown eyes. The one who could outrun the boys and was terrified of spiders. Christmas is her time to host, buy, decorate, make and give. I'm blessed to call her sister; she is a blessing to so many.

Twelve Days of Christmas-ing

It's time to share the love! It's time to squeeze out all the meanness and hate and selfish-tinted motives that drive us so much of the time.

...

Today, as I sit at my desk behind a Christmas tree and manorah and a big bowl of M&M's (in our company's colors, with our companies name on them--- on each and every M&M-- this is not cheap people), I feel rich. I feel blessed. I know that as an American I have so much more than majority of the population of the world have.

I know this is true. I believe it is true. I've seen it, I've heard from those who've experience it first hand. When Chris told me stories about the street kids in Rwanda who literally live on the streets, it broke my heart. Rummaging through the city dump and taking care of each other at five, eight and eleven years old- it's how they survive.

So why do I feel entitled to a massage? My needs no longer include water, food and shelter. I need a certain amount of counter space in my kitchen, nice jewelry, a fifteenth lip gloss and a massage at least once a quarter.

Sometimes, and I guess especially at Christmas time, I am overwhelmed with the opportunities to give and serve and minister and be charitable. There are so many people who need their basic needs met as well as needing to experience sincere care and love and hugs.

I want my life to be effective, and not just by writing a check or donating a baby-doll or a gently used winter coat. I want to have an impact. And I'm not talking about changing the entire world tomorrow. I'm not naive enough to think that I matter all that much, but there has to be a better way.

Maybe it's just one blog post at a time. Or hugging one Scrooge a day. I'm not really sure what making an impact on my part of the world looks like right now, but I feel like something BIG is coming. I find comfort in knowing that all I have to do today is what God intended for me to do today- no more, no less. But I don't want to sell myself short, or aim too low, or completely miss using my talents, gifts and abilities for greatness. Something larger than I could dream. Something outside of myself. Something only God could do.

Change.

Texas Run Down...

Here are some pictures of how we spent SOME of our time in Texas.

Momma and me, Thanksgiving day. We had an amazing meal that my mom prepared 100% of. She loves to cook and we love to eat so it works out well.















Chris and I rode motorcycles with my dad. What an amazingly free feeling. I miss it.















This is a picture my brother John took from underneath the trestle. The tiny people way up in the air are LB & I and Chris- toting his obnoxiously long walking stick. He looked like Moses leading the way. I was more afraid of tumbling to my death.















This was one of our many modes of transportation during our trip in Texas. In the back of the truck my father-in-law let us borrow were huge bags of cow feed. The funny thing is that every time we'd drive by the Texas Longhorn cattle that get fed the before mentioned feed.... they'd come running across the pasture, recognizing the hum of this particular gray Ford, expecting food.

Chris and I both did alot of reading and journaling during our week away. This is Chris sitting on my sisters and brother-in-law's back porch.

Full speed ahead

Halls decked?

Holly hung?

Tree decorated?

Nativity set displayed?

Lights lit?

Christmas in our tiny abode really isn't all that pitiful if you ask me, but it is sort of meek. We have no room to put up a Christmas tree, or hang stockings, or set out snow-globes, but we make due.

I hung some garland, placed my plush reindeer atop the bookshelf and set out three or four of my favorite ornaments as little figurines. That is it, but it's okay.

I got to help decorate our sanctuary at church with live greenery and millions of red twinkle lights. I also got to put the tree up in the office and adorn it with lights and tinsel and blue and silver glittery balls. So I've had my feel. I really enjoy the use of LIVE greenery and garland in the Northeast. It seems to be more prevalent and available here than in the south. Live wreaths and trees and holly branches: very nice. And it's nice to throw it all away on January 1st.

...

Christmas time is here and my calendar is full! Chris leaves today for a weekend youth retreat and while I really want to be excited about some alone time--- I have too much to do.

Tonight we are having a youth game night in the fellowship hall. Nothing like Twister, Taboo and a game of Jenga to end a tiresome workweek. After pizza and hanging out, I'll get home around 9:00pm where I really want to finish up my Christmas cards.

Tomorrow I have a baby shower at 1:00, a Christmas party at 9:00pm. PM. That's really late for me. AND the invite said, "festive attire!" Ha!!! I also found that the wonderfully talented Laila Biali is playing for FREE at 8:00pm at Rockwood Music Hall and her music does something incredibly healing to my soul. She's not only a pianist, but an amazing performer. I like to be entertained...

And Sunday morning the choir is singing and call time is 8:15am. Which really puts a damper on that whole "9:00pm festive attire" party, that I'm sure will involve wine...

...

And next week: The Christmas Concert, Tell Me a Story. I will live at the church next week. The youth are also "leading out" next Sunday during church- to give us choir peeps a break, after all those rehearsals and performances. But since I'm involved with youth too.... But it's really fine. We live a block from the church. This is why we do this. And this week comes every. single. year.

OH--- And I'm also trying really hard to memorize a monologue (along with all my choir music). It's a little difficult because I wrote it, and being vulnerable up on that stage all alone, reading my own writing is sort of a writers nightmare. But it will work out, hopefully.

But what I really want to do right now, is simply stroll the aisles at Target!