However Although Thus Several Several

This one time when I was visiting my dad...

Did I mention I went skydiving? I'm thinking I did not. Because that was a Monday, and we came home on a Tuesday, and then the very next day was the tornado. So the roller coaster of emotions that week set me back a little. To say the least. 

I made this little book and ordered it today from Shutterfly. If you see a big blank white space below it's because you don't have Flash so just click on the link at the bottom to see the book. I have a video, too. Maybe I will share that later. It's pretty awesome if I do say so myself.

I love creating photo books with Shutterfly. It's a quick and easy way to satisfy my scrapbooking urge when I don't have the time or space to drag out all the scrappy stuff.

I will look at this book when I need to be reminded that I can do anything.

Any. Thing. 

 

 

Click here to view this photo book larger

 

Words when there really are none

There’s a bit of guilt that comes along with escaping any harm or damage from a random natural disaster like the killer tornado that ripped through here 12 days ago. Guilt? I’m not sure how else to describe it. It’s not like I’m wishing that our home had been reduced to mere rubble or thinking I should have died in the place of one of the 41 people who did, but more like an aching sense that something is not fair about it all. 

Why do innocent and sweet babies die? Why should young and beautiful students experience such horror or even die such terrifying deaths? Why are those who already live in the projects struggling just to get by forced to deal with the most destruction and left with absolutely nowhere to call home? Why are the most historic of neighborhoods able to disappear from the map in less than a minute? 

I have no answers, of course, but that doesn’t stop me from fretting over the questions. My stomach and my heart are still in knots. It’s almost more than I can bear to watch. I know it has been said a thousand times, but really, the pictures don’t do it justice. To see the destruction with your own eyes is surreal. It’s impossible to describe. So I won’t try. 

There are two specific moments, though, that stand out for me in all that has transpired since that day. The night of the tornado, I had a really tough time getting home. It’s a crazy story that I do want to tell at some point, but for now, let’s just say I was terrified. So there I was trying to get home, and I ended up on this road that I soon realized was impassable. There were literally hundreds of people walking in one direction – all with these dazed and twisted looks on their faces - some in pajamas, some in nothing but pants, some with shoes, some without. Some had children and pets following along with them. I don’t know why but my car windows were down, so the screaming and crying was really loud. One large woman in a tight knit yellow dress looked at me and yelled, “You can’t go down there! People are dead down there! DEAD! People are dead!” Then she kept on walking, barefoot and waving her hands in the air. I wanted to vomit. The next day I figured out I had been just up the street from Rosedale Court – the housing project where many lives were lost and almost every home was completely destroyed. Again, I wanted to vomit.

Two days later, PJ and I took supplies to Rosedale Baptist Church. A row of old houses next to the church also had major damage. Many of the houses were left as just walls with no roof and no belongings, many were just piles of wood and brick. One house had its top level sliding off the front of it as if it had been sliced with a knife that stopped just short of finishing the job. There was no roof on this house, no front door, no windows. You could see the attic of the house because it was now dangling above the porch. In the attic was a Christmas tree, complete with fake snow on the branches. Beside the front porch in a lawn chair sat an elderly woman with bandages on her arms. She was just sitting there watching people come and go. This was her home, and I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was not leaving. She was there to protect what was left – even if all that was left was a cheap artificial tree and a rickety old lawn chair. 

I haven’t cried yet. I’m afraid if I start, I may never stop. 

The worst part for PJ and me right now is feeling like we want to help, but not ever feeling like what we do is enough. So we do what we can and we pray. How can you help? Please pray for these people. Please consider giving to the Mid-Alabama region of The American Red Cross to help. 

And right now - please tell those people that you love how you feel. I believe more than ever that we are not guaranteed a tomorrow. I will never be the same as a result of this. And I think the sweetest way to honor those who lost their lives that night is to learn to live like we are dying.

Love deeper, speak sweeter…

 

Fair Trade

"The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it."   Henry Thoreau

I’m pretty sure we’ve discussed this before since I seem to have this unending chatter going on in my head about what I’m trading or giving up in life in order to accomplish this or that. The “this or that” I’m currently pondering is more accurately described as a PhD. I’m in my second year of classes – a somewhat critical point for me since I feel like completing another semester or two would mean there’s no turning back. I mean, who in their right mind would spend that much time and energy only to quit just before obtaining the illustrious prize? I realize plenty of people get all the way to the end of course work and never finish a dissertation…it’s actually pretty common. But that’s not gonna be me. The looming dissertation seems like a piece of cake to me. It’s the course work that’s killing me. The sitting in a classroom listening to excruciatingly boring lectures, the reading of chapter after chapter of blah, blah, blah, and the pretending to be impressed or enlightened by any of what I’m hearing or reading. I’m not saying I haven’t learned a lot because I certainly have. I’m just saying I don’t really care all that much about what I’ve learned. I think I’m supposed to be more interested than I am. I think I’m even supposed to be somewhat passionate about what I’m studying, but truth be told - I’m not. And that concerns me for several reasons - not the least of which is the amount of time I’m spending on it all.

Time.

Let’s talk about time, shall we?

A couple of weeks ago Bobbie Jo and I took the four nieces to The Great Pumpkin Patch for a day of adventure. It was one of those gorgeous October Saturdays that makes you acutely aware of your surroundings and causes you to remember every other beautiful fall day you’ve ever spent outside in the loveliness. I caught myself daydreaming about childhood afternoons spent crunching around in the leaves with my neighborhood peeps, remembering crazy fun nights at the Alabama State Fair with my high school pals, and reminiscing about autumn evenings sitting on the front steps of Vail dorm making out with my boyfriend when I should have been studying. Certainly you know the kind of stuff I’m talking about. It’s the kind of stuff that makes up our lives – the time spent. Time spent with those we love.

So anyway, we’re at the pumpkin patch and I’m a little overwhelmed by it all. Here are these four beautiful children who are just so open to love and fun and...life! They were just soaking up every minute of it all without even knowing it. And the things they say and do all remind me of the things we all said and did as children. Their laughter, and even their whining, is all too familiar. More than once I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my body and dance around in the pumpkins. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t thinking about a paper that was due tomorrow or a book I was supposed to read in less than a week. I wasn’t thinking about anything. I was just with those children and Bobbie Jo in that moment. It was brief, but it was oh so powerful. Over the last couple of weeks, every time I think about whether or not I should register for spring semester classes, I’m reminded of that afternoon at the pumpkin patch. I’ve wondered why the two were connected, and the only thing I can figure is that what I’m really trying to decide is if the price of a PhD is worth the amount of my life I’m exchanging for it. Is the time I’m spending worth the end result? I wish I could say I’ve had a revelation and I know what I’m going to do, but that’s not the case. I’m stuck. It’s not as simple a decision as I would like for it to be, but nothing ever is with me. (I’m cursed in that way.) Maybe if I were excited about what I’m studying I wouldn’t even stop to wonder if I should go on. Maybe if I knew I could have 10 more afternoons in a pumpkin patch with those girls I would give up the idea of a PhD. I don’t know. I guess that’s the real problem with time, isn’t it? We don’t ever know how much of it is left.

I would be willing to bet, though, that it’s not nearly enough. 

 

I make no promises

I'm a list person. Surely, you know the type - I make a list for everything. For example, I just made a list while waiting on coffee at Starbucks, and here's what it says:

• wash clothes
• read
• buy father's day cards
• post to blog
• finish uploading 365
• buy wallflowers

Because I was extensively trained in the Franklin Covey sort of way, I will prioritize this list with the ABC method, and I will go about checking things off as I do them. What doesn't get done today will get an arrow (i.e. -->) beside it which means I will move that task to the next day's list. I typically finish all the A priority tasks in a day, and I usually finish most B's, but the C's? Not so much. It's rare that I get to a C task. Suffice it to say that "post to blog" and "finish uploading 365" have been C's for a while now. And so that's why I haven't posted very much. 

I had a roommate in college who told me my lists were annoying. She claimed I was "showing off" because I would have these legal pad pages all scattered everywhere with lists. At that time, I didn't use the ABC method, I just drew a line through things I had accomplished. So there were these long lists of all the things I had done in a day staring her in the face while she watched All My Children and flipped through the latest issue of Vogue. Here's the thing, though - I wrote all sorts of things on those lists - and not just stuff I needed to do. The most mundane and insignificant of tasks went on the list, and the majority of the time, random thoughts went on the list, too. Once I had pondered the random thought for a moment, I would mark it off the list. For instance, I recently found a list I had made in college inside an old journal. Here's what it said:

• Shower
• Class
• LAURA!
• Mktg reading
• Work  2-6
• Where's my bangle?
• CFA or EC?

I've spent several days wondering what was so exciting about Laura that day that made her deserve all caps and an exclamation point. Because I have to tell you - I do not like exclamation points. Additionally, did I have a bangle? Is that a bracelet? And if so, how did I lose it? Why don't I remember it? I must have found it because I marked it off the list. 

And seriously, did I really need to put "shower" on the list? And "class?" I mean, why did I need to be reminded to take a shower and go to class? What else mattered then? (Thankfully, both tasks have a line through them.)

What has driven me the craziest is the last thing on the list: "CFA or EC?" What is that code for? I've tossed it around in my head for days, fallen asleep at night thinking about it, and even tried writing it down to see if I could remember. 

Nothing.

Well, today, in the middle of a very long lecture on the effectiveness of various pedagogies in higher education, it hit me. 

Chick-Fil-A or El Chico? 

HA! 

Where did I want to eat after work? Chick-Fil-A or El Chico? 

It's marked off the list, so I'm assuming I finally decided. I'm also assuming I chose El Chico because it's rare that I turn down an opportunity for a chip or a margarita. 

Oh, that life were so simple still. 

But hey, I can mark "post to blog" off my list now. 

By the way, I hope my former roommate is reading this, and I hope she is annoyed. 

Disco will survive

I'm currently sitting in the hall waiting on class to start and eavesdropping on an undergrad psychology course. The professor just played Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive" for the class and they're analyzing the lyrics. Based on the comments being made the majority of these students have NEVER even heard this song. One girl just asked, "Is this woman still alive?" The professor was very concerned and asked if she wanted to know if the character (woman proclaiming she will survive) is still alive or if Gloria Gaynor is still alive. Of course that completely confused everyone. And now they're off on the subject of dead disco singers. No one knows the answer about Gloria, by the way.
I feel like busting in there and performing the entire song for them complete with dance moves and drama.
Instead I will finish my reading.

I think it's neat how

1) Because he's still just as precious as ever, I'm not embarrassed to say that I had the BIGGEST most ridiculous crush on Donny Osmond when I was a child.

2) Taking a class or two can make me forget (for a moment) to dread going back to work the next morning. 

3)  Acquiring a MacBook Pro can make life so much easier. Oh, Apple. Sigh.

4) The snake on our porch knew better than to show up when I was around.

5) There are college kids around here (mostly male) who impress me daily with their wisdom, intelligence and maturity. (Maybe a total of 3?)

6) I haven't killed any of the ones who don't fit in the above category - yet.

7) Smucker's Uncrustables now come on whole wheat bread.

8) Macy Gray doesn't give a flying rat's ass what anyone thinks about her.

9) Kelly Osborne can even get out of bed - much less ballroom dance.

10) I have so much free time I can spend my evenings watching such nonsense rather than reading the 75 chapters and 92 articles I've been assigned to read.   

That's all for now.

Lordy, Lordy

Where has all the time gone? (My grandmother used to say that. She started lots of sentences with "Lordy, Lordy.")

Quick update from my fabulously exciting life:

We had a grand time at the beach last weekend. If you sneak over to the 365 blog (I finally updated it!) you might see some photos from the quick trip.

I'm back in school. I saw you roll your eyes. I'm taking two classes this semester - one infinitely more interesting than the other - in pursuit of a PhD in Higher Ed. Again, I saw you roll your eyes.

I survived the back-to-school book rush at work and so far (knocking on wood) I don't have swine flu. I'm actually off for the three day weekend, and I had hoped we could go visit Hank, but Smudge has flu and mono (She never does anything half ass) so I'm staying as far away from that house as possible.

Football starts tomorrow. It's a strange feeling to simultaneously dread and love something so much.

I'll be back one day soon - assuming my Cultural Psychology professor does not succeed in his plan to make me throw myself off of Bibb Graves Hall.

Reality getting in my way

The real reasons I haven't written more lately:

1. Work: I'm insanely busy with nothing that matters and completely overwhelmed by all that does. There are people and situations there (as I'm sure I've mentioned before) making me crazy. There's nothing I can do about it right now other than just continue to try to improve my reactions to said people and situations. That's much more difficult than it sounds. I promise.

2. Television: Both good and bad TV sucking me in lately. I hate to even say that, though, because I watch far less TV than most people I know. I'm on a bit of a reality show kick. I'm sure that says something about me and my reality, but I would like to skip that discussion for now. I've become obsessed with "Ruby." She's adorable. I catch myself slipping into her accent every now and then. I'm also digging "Police Women of Broward County." Andrea reminds me of Bobbie Jo in many ways. Clean House makes me both disgusted and giddy. And I've loved "Big Medicine" forever. I know what you are thinking - I'm a huge nerd. I know there are some great shows out there right now. I hear y'all talking about them, see you tweeting about them. I know I can't even start watching it (True Blood) or I will be hooked forever. I can't make that type of commitment right now.

3. Grief: Still working though my emotions surrounding my mom. Some days are better than others. I had forgotten that this time of year (back to school) would remind me so much of her. So I've had some come aparts lately - mostly in the school supply aisles of random retail establishments. Although a little embarrassing and inconvenient, I imagine that will be how it is for a long while.

Just thought you might want to hear my excuses. What's keeping you from writing these days?

Trash talking

I decided to get a manicure and pedicure today in preparation for our beach trip even though I knew the salon would be crazy busy on a Saturday. It wasn't so busy when I first arrived, but started to fill up soon after I got in the chair. A little girl who appeared to be about five years old was there with her mother and her grandmother, and was quite proud of her little mani/pedi.

When I walked over to the drying station I could tell the little girl was eying my feet and thinking about my black polish (OPI Lincoln Park After Dark), but she didn't say anything about it. Pretty soon all three of them ended up at the drying station beside me. (See? Always people in my back pocket...I can't shake them!) Anyway, I had my feet and hands under the dryers and the little girl was busy staring at the wall of polishes beside us for quite a while. Suddenly she spotted a bottle of the black polish like mine and pointed it out to her mother. "I want that color next time," she said. The mother picked up the bottle and read the bottom, "Lincoln Park After Dark. OK. Next time you can have that." The grandmother made a face, and said, "No you aren't getting that color. It's slutty." (Keep in mind Mother and Grandmother have no idea what color my toes are at this point.) Of course, the little girl immediately asked, "What does 'slutty' mean?" Horrified that the grandmother would use the word "slutty" in front of her child, the mother quickly corrected her, "Trashy. She means 'trashy.'"

The little girl thought about it for a second or two and then pointed directly at me and said, "Her toes are that color." Mother and Grandmother lost all color in their faces but didn't say a word. I pulled one foot out from under the dryer and held it up. "Yep," I said, "Just getting ready for the beach."

And then I left. This slut's gotta get busy packing.

Forging Forward

In keeping with the video theme this week, I thought I would post this that I found on Kerry Lynn's blog not too long ago. I've watched it again and again and again. Because I believe I was meant to see it at the exact moment that I did...the exact moment when I thought I couldn't possibly take one more thing happening to me or to anyone I love. Once I saw this I realized that of course I can take it. I will keep going because I always do. Bring it on.