Sgniht sdrawkcab and Oddities

Right now, I'm eating hot buttered popcorn and drinking Diet Coke. It's 10 in the morning. Also, most nights I get pancake cravings, that I don't usually fulfill. This leads me to believe that someday, if I ever get pregnant, I will want breakfast food in the morning and dinner at night, and my husband will be utterly shocked.

I've never been the kind of girl who dreams of my someday wedding or buys bridal magazines. However, helping my friends pick out dresses and make centerpieces and giggle about their fellas is one of the most fun things I've ever done. I did not expect this from myself.

I'm always cold, but I love fresh air. So, most of the time I have my windows open at night, only to wake up freezing and cursing whoever left the window open, only to remember that it was, in fact, me. Why I have not yet learned to close the windows BEFORE I fall asleep is beyond me.

I love driving, but if there is a man coming along, I usually insist that he drive. The only exception is if he is between the ages of 16-20, in which case I value my life too much.

Rainy days are my favorite. FAVORITE. However, laying out and getting a tan is also my favorite, and so is the beach.

I love good photography and taking pictures, but never remember to bring or use my camera.

I love clever commercials and ad campaigns, but HATE advertising-speak, which brutalizes the English language.

I check email obsessively during the week, and completely ignore it on weekends.

Pink pedicures are awesome, but if I paint my fingernails anything other than natural, I feel sorta like a Ho.

I love horses, but typically stay quiet in conversations about them unless I know you very well. I do not, will not, compete about how much I know and love the things that I know and love.

I always pay bills and rent on time - except for my student loan. For some reason, that one slips through the cracks every few months.

Remembering Today

Today I went to lunch with a friend. We were honest about our friends' weddings and our own relationships and the weirdness of growing up. We sat outside and ate Mexican food and drank Diet Coke and gloried in the perfect day.

Yesterday I rode in a car filled with some of my favorite people. I went to a Bridal Shower and saw unmentionables thrown about in a cavalier way that would embarrass all of us, were it any other occasion. I went to do a good deed and got crabby about it, which made it not-so-good after all. I went to church and worshiped my heart out and saw my imperfections and was ashamed of myself but grateful to God for putting up with me.

The day before I laid on a beach and ate salad and chillaxed with awesome people. I passed out programs and teared up for a dear friend's wedding. I danced the night away with friends and the man I love. I smelled roses and wine and laughter in the air.

I need to record these things more often. I need to remember why life is so good and I am so blessed.

Plan for the Unexpected

No, I don't know how to do this.

A while back, one of our friends referred to Adam and I as "Spontaneous and Outdoorsy" - and while I was flattered, I had to admit that I'm really not. Outdoorsy? Sure. Spontaneous? Does "trying to be" count?

A few months ago, I rear-ended someone in the midst of lunchtime traffic. It was my own fault, simply not paying enough attention combined with a supreme impatience with crowds, but a bummer nonetheless.

Thanks to this little episode, my hood was no longer shutting properly. Adam wired it closed for safety, but now with a sadly flapping hood, crushed front bumper and the additional dings and scratches accumulated in daily life, my beloved Rocky was looking more and more like a loaner from the Clampets then my pampered one and only.

I was devastated. It sounds stupid, and I feel stupid even writing it, but this is my truck. My Rocky. (I name everything, Rocky is one of my all-time favorite movies, and a fitting name for such a boyish truck.) He and I have hauled horses, hay, tack and all my personal belongings from one side of the West to the other and back again. We have four-wheeled through mud, muck, snow and ice, and even braved those flooded Abilenian roads with a cab-load of hungry ACU freshmen, bound for "the other side of town" come hell or high water. He has been a refuge, a way out, a magic carpet - and I have washed, cleaned, changed oil in, and been proud of, my old boy for over 6 years.

"It's just a thing," Adam said as I cried at the wire poking out of the grill and Rocky's overall disreputable appearance.

Beyond my emotional distress, though, I couldn't see how this would get resolved. Obviously, the hood had to get fixed. But I spend the majority of my paycheck paying rent, the rest goes to the gas that Rocky gleefully guzzles, and there's not a great deal left over for car repairs, let alone a new front end on an old pick-up.

I'm ashamed to say that I steadfastly refused to believe that it would be OK. Honestly. I dug my feet in and wallowed in my misery like a champ, crying over a thing and ignoring the wisdom floating around me.

I put my duress in the back of my mind though - managing to blissfully forget about the troubles of truck-ownership until we dropped Rocky off at the Body Shop for an estimate.

"What's the matter?" asked my patient and long-suffering boyfriend. I tried to hold it in, but my ocean-deep lack of faith came bubbling out. Soon I was again terrified... and blathering on about it as though volume of words could fix what a short prayer would have. As much as I would've liked to think that I had conquered my fear, I had merely covered it with distractions, and when those were gone, and so was my poor excuse for Faith.

Thankfully for me, though, God's patience doesn't run out as easily as my Faith in Him does. While I doubted my future, the mechanic fixed my hood for no charge and God smiled at me while I shook my head at my own foolishness.

The beauty of Life is that it is so unexpected - both good times and bad. Here's to the new lessons I've learned: that people are infinitely more important than things, that God is faithful, and that even the best of trucks don't last forever.

With his working hood and slightly straightened front bumper, though, I think Rocky has a few more adventures in him yet.

Yummy Texas

I'm in Texas for the week of Thanksgiving. Last Saturday we loaded Bonnie with suitcases, golf clubs and dreams of queso and bbq, and headed East. 21 hours, several Starbucks stops, 5 tanks of gas and a few crazy jokes later, we landed in Fort Worth.

It's been terrific. Adam's family is terrific, my friends (Val and Megan!) are terrific, the weather is terrific, the food, of course, is terrific.

And that's what I'm here to talk about. Texas Food.

Texas Food is unlike anywhere else in the world. It's massive, delicious, and filled with beef. No, seriously. I haven't eaten so much beef and cheese since... well, since I left Texas. Texans are not as concerned with quality as they are with quantity... if there's a block of gourmet cheese at Tom Thumb or a tub of kind-of gourmet cheese at Wal-Mart, Wally always wins.

Texas Food is also all about being big. The drinks are veritable water towers of Dr Pepper - which is awesome for me, because I practically need an IV of Diet Coke just to maintain daily sanity. Route 44's are my best friend. :) Also, the burgers are huge, the fries are huge, the LouAnn platter at Luby's is for sissies, and the queso is so cheesy awesome good that I think I might need to go eat some. Right. Now.

Commute-a-licious

As I have now joined the proud ranks of road-raging California commuters, I would like to add my horn to the noise. Here are a few tips on driving on the California highways, byways (hat tip to Steven Moore) and side streets and on being a good driver/pedestrian/commuter, or at least not a completely comatose one, as so many apparently are.

The likelihood that anybody who shares the roads with me will ever read this is incredibly slim. I know this. But writing out my woes is cathartic, and you are stuck at work, blog-surfing, and thus a captive audience - so you will read this, no matter how dull the story of my commute may be.

1. It appears to be a law that if there is one large, weighed-down, slow-moving, repair-man-type truck on the road, there will be another, taking up the other lane and slowing everybody down. Repair men of the world, listen to me. WE LOVE YOU. We do. You fix our plugged drains, unrattle our rattling doors, and fearlessly stare down the bad circuitry demons. However, our love fades every time you go 35 in a 55... and especially when you team up to make passing you impossible. We respect that your trucks are big and weighed down and you get paid by the hour. Just let the rest of us by... and our love will remain untarnished.
2. Same goes for moms. I salute you, moms. You guys work hard and have some of the toughest jobs in the universe. However, I also know that when I am behind a mini-van with "Honor-Roll Student" stickers on the bumper and shades in the windows, I am in for a slow drive. Unless, of course, Junior spits up in a big way. In which case we must always be prepared for the quick exit to the nearest parking lot/bathroom/wherever moms go to make do. Not really having much experience with the whole kid scene, I can't really hold a grudge here though. Just... good job, moms. Keep it up, and... well, you could move into the slow lane now and then. If you think about it.
3. Nobody in California waves. EVER. Megan and I perfected the art of "Dallas Driving" (one hand on the steering wheel, one hand waving frantically out the back window at everybody whom you're cutting off as you cross several lanes of traffic for an exit that you should have noticed a lot earlier, but were too busy jamming out to the sweet lovin' sounds of Plus One...) So I wave. I think as I get into somebody's lane and give a cheery wave, they must think "Aw, how quaint. She waved with her whole hand! She must be from the South." This, I assume, makes their day better because they start thinking about Grandma Hazel's Sweet Potato Pie and not the thousands of dollars in debt they racked up last night in South Coast Plaza. At least I hope so. They're probably just wondering what the heck I'm doing.
4. STEREOTYPE ALERT. When someone is driving incredibly poorly, if I finally get up next to them, I always look to see what kind of person has been so blissfully wrecking my morning. 99% of the time they are women, and 80% of the time they are on cell phones - typically very bling-y ones with large jewels stuck in conspicuous places. Girls, girls. Throw woman-kind a bone here. Silence is golden. Or the radio. Or maybe just watching the road instead of discussing your eyeliner application with your girlfriends. Or maybe you could talk about driving, and that would keep you focused. Something has to change, though. Please.
5. Pedestrians. Walking is good for both body and soul. I am completely in support of walking, and think everybody should walk and use cross-walks and all that good stuff. I would also just like to remind the foot-traveling population that crosswalks are kind of a favor on the car-bound people's part. Really. We have agreed that while you're walking in-between the white lines from sidewalk to sidewalk, we will not run you over. However, that does not mean that you can abuse the privilege. The cross-walk is not the place to begin deep discussions, check out your manicure, or drink in the scenery. I join your ranks almost every evening, and I KNOW that the street can be crossed before the light changes. Please endeavor to do so, and we will gladly continue not running you over.
   
6. Honking. Really, guys? Honking is to driving what "How to Save a Life" is to music. Overdone. Overplayed. Worn out. Please stop.
7. When people think they're being sneaky, they're really just being rude. There's a place right by work where you can get onto the 55 going either North or South. The southbound lanes are always clear, Northbound are always packed. So certain sneaky people think they can blaze up the Southbound end until just before it splits, then gracefully merge, with no one the wiser and their own selfish tushes a few hundred yards further down the freeway. It doesn't work. For reals. All that happens is the Southbounders get slowed down and annoyed by the unsuccessful merging attempts, the Northbounders get righteously indignant at "sneakers" lack of courtesy, and everybody is honking and tailgating and nobody is better off... and it happens EVERY DAY. Oh, dumb Californians.
8. If you're a guy and you pull up next to me, this does not mean that the Freeway Gods have ordained that we are destined to be together. It does not mean that I think you're cute. It does not mean that my window is down in order to talk to random guys, including you. It does not mean anything. Go away and learn to not be creepy.
9. If you tailgate me, I want to slam on my brakes. I have not done it yet, but be warned. No bueno.
10. Finally, be NICE. I seriously believe that people get in their cars and assume their mean driving alter ego. Wave. Smile. Take a sip of your $10 latte. Commuters are people too!