A Staycation for Sisters...

I was going to blog about my memories of 9.11.01 today, but instead, I thought a better way to honor the heroes would be to blog instead about the joys in my life today, joys that I wouldn't have without those who have been and are willing to sacrifice themselves for my freedom and safety.  And so, I give you "A Staycation for Sisters"...

With the good fortune of a long weekend, a discounted hotel, and two sisters in the vicinity, I packed up and headed to Orlando.  Here's how we knew we were set: we had an iPod of great music, and 2 bags of different kinds of Goldfish each, plus milk and Oreos.  Here's how we knew we were getting old: we also had milk because one of us had acid reflux.

 

Let me introduce you to the main characters of this adventure.  It's been said that simply looking at our wardrobes will show you our personalities.  You decide:

This is Bestie (classic):

                                 This is Bestie Jr. (trendy)  Bestie Jr., don't be mad... it's just because you're younger. :):

                        
                                                                                                                                          This is me (girly):

Our first dinner on our budget staycation was at Chipotle.  We cackled in the car as our conversations ranged from the ridiculous to the insane.  Let me give you some snippets:

"It drives me nuts when people sing 'Lord of heavend and earth' instead of 'Lord of heaven and earth.'  Heaven doesn't have a 'd' sound.  It is so annoying.  Are they just anticipating enunciating the 'and,' so they accidentally tack on a 'd' to the end of heaven?"

"You definitely are a maneater.  You have more boy experience than any of us.  Remember how many little dates you went on in college?  And how you dated Josh just but didn't like him at all?"
"I tried to make myself like him.  Is it considered a date if he pays?"
"Well then, I dated the whole brother floor.  I don't think I paid for a single Starbucks drink my entire first semester!"
"I only went on one date."

Those are just a couple fit for print.  There were also wookie noises, but no one knows why.  So we made our way to Chipotle, where we proceeded to cackle like three middle-aged women who had been let loose from the daily confines of their households.  There were some skater kids who probably thought we were 35, so I guess that fits.  Also, there was a man who looked like Keanu Reeves, but balding.  Next on our adventure was Redbox, for a chick flick.  At this point it was raining quite hard, and we were driving through a less-than-savory portion of Orlando.  We ended up at a 7-11 with a weird overhang and some creepy guys with bulletproof vests and motorcycles.

Our hotel room was as cold as a meat locker, or maybe colder.  Which would have been fine, if I hadn't stepped in water in the bathroom, making my socks wet and therefore having to go sockless in a meat locker.  Also, there was what may or may not have been a booger on the nightstand in an otherwise very clean room.  I "killed" it, as I am always the designated bug killer/apparently now booger grabber and throw away-er.  In the two nights we stayed there, that room held its share of laughter.  If we weren't laughing at the two movies we rented, we were laughing at each other.  If we weren't laughing at each other, we were laughing at the grotesque faces we were making for the camera.  And if we weren't laughing at that, we were laughing at the ridiculous videos we were making.

We laughed so loudly, in fact, that not only did my voice start to go hoarse, but the neighbors actually pounded on the wall for us to stop.  I felt guilty, like I used to feel when I was an RA at Moody and would  break quiet hours with my sisters, and a girl would poke her sleepy head out of her room and inform me that it was after quiet hours.  So I sheepishly stopped cackling and as we turned out the light, Bestie must have been thinking the same thing, because she mumbled something to me about "breaking quiet hours."

In the light of day, we found ourselves poolside, each armed with our own copy of "Glamour."  That way, we could point out who looked freakish, or what color nail polish we wanted, or what item of clothing for which we'd be on the prowl.  And then we followed our fancies to the mall, where the three of us, all broke, still managed to find amazing deals that we simply couldn't pass up.  The next day became an outlet mall excursion where we spent far too much time rifling through underwear that was only $2.50 and ghetto brand-name t-shirts.  Don't ask.

While the three of us have remained quite close despite all the changes of the last year or so, I was reminded of how life is different these days when this happened:

 
I guess that's what happens when you have a husband. :)

But a good thing about being the single one was I got a "heavenly bed" all to myself because hey, they're used to sharing.  Until the second night, when Bestie uber-creeped-out Bestie Jr. and therefore Bestie Jr. bounded into my bed for the night.

Our second meal-on-the-cheap was a "splurge" at the Olive Garden.  We were hyped about this because Bestie Jr. is married to a chef who cries inside at the thought of the the Olive Garden.  We fairly leaped with joy at the thought of unlimited soup, salad, and breadsticks with a never-ending pasta bowl.  Who wouldn't leap with joy at that thought?!  But see, the longer we sat there, the crazier the pictures became, and the harder we laughed.

You never can tell what will happen when you buy nerd glasses, either.

So the retreat ended, and I'm back in my apartment alone, typing away on the computer as usual.    But it's okay.  Bestie and her husband are two buildings away.  And Bestie Jr. and her husband are just across the pond.  And even though we're back to real life, I am refreshed and reminded of how much I love my sisters.  As I told them in the parking lot of the mall,

"Guys, I never get tired of spending time with you."

And it's true.  They are two very, very big joys in my life.  Here's to sisters!

There's One in Every Group...

"Seinfeld" relates to all of life, and I don't care what you say to refute that.  Every true fan knows what it's like to make a hilarious, situationally appropriate "Seinfeld" reference and then hear only crickets chirping when the crowd doesn't know what you're talking about.  I hope this isn't one of those times.  One of my favorite quotes comes from George.  He says, "Every group has someone they all make fun of.  Like us with Elaine."  I always thought that was funny... until I realized how true that statement is.  And the fact that I am Elaine.

I think it hit me when we were all at the Applebee's a couple Saturday nights ago.  The Silly Six plus one (my cousin) were enjoying the half price greasy appetizers and we were laughing (as usual).  Then the conversation took a turn for the weird (as usual), and I became the running brunt of the joke (as usual).  I'm not going to lie-- it was still hilarious, but it hit me suddenly that I am the one in the group that everyone makes fun of most often!  I rewound my memories to see if I was right. 

Scene one: playing "Things" with the group.  Recurring "thing"?  Redheads.

Scene two: playing "Things" with the group.  Recurring "thing"?  Amanda, drunk (To keep my reputation unblemished, I would like to point out that I have never been drunk).

Scene three: lunch at the Cheesecake Factory.  Everyone laughs at the fact that Amanda's heart is "the Berlin Wall."

Then I realized there were too many scenes to count.  So I tried to play the guilt card.


"You know, it's just because I'm single.  I'll bet when I'm married you all won't make fun of me all the time."
"No, then I'm pretty sure we'll just have a lot more ammunition!"  Thanks, Bestie's Husband.


I made a face (which doesn't help them not make fun of me, by the way).  I was told there was "just something" about me that made it easy to make fun of me.  Great...?  After discovering my place in the Silly Six, I thought about my other groups of friends.  Did I hold that position in other groups, too?!  I did.  I didn't know whether to be ashamed or amused.


I decided I'd go for amused.  If somebody has to be "someone they all make fun of," I don't mind if it's me.  It's still pretty funny, even if I have to defend myself against ridiculous allegations.  And I love making people laugh, so if it's at my expense... that's okay.  Besides, it's not always me they make fun of.  We're kind of a ruthless group and go for the comedic jugular every now and then.  But meanwhile, I guess I'll still be the one "they all make fun of."  I won't complain too much, because at least there's a "they" to hang out with.  And "they" make me laugh.

Who is it in your group that you all make fun of?  If you don't know... it's probably you.

Though the Miles May Separate...

I have a delightful friend who lives in Texas.  We have been friends for twenty-three years.  Twenty-three years!  Miles have separated us for most of those years, however, but we found a way to stay in touch.  There were summers in her grandparents' basement.  Let me give you a mental snapshot: it's 1997.  Leonardo DiCaprio's photo from "Teen Beat" is pasted to a pole in the basement, and we slow dance with him sometimes.  We also play the soundtrack to Selena, love the Spice Girls, and still play dress-up while creating in-depth dramas.  We are obsessed with Tom Cruise and Leo, and Titanic is AMAZING.  We laugh at anything and everything until we wheeze and cry.

Fast forward several years, and life gets busy.  We go to college-- she for art education, me for education education, and towards the end of our college years, we plan an epic trip to Europe.  Armed with our knowledge of art and history, we take on our favorite city alone: Paris.  Then on to Greece, Italy, Austria, Germany, and France.  It is the adventure of a lifetime.

And then life gets even more busy, and we have real jobs, real lives, and are grown ups.  The visits are less frequent, but somehow we manage through phone calls and facebook.  Finally, after three years apart, we reunite in Texas.  We find that we still have so much in common that it creeps us out a little (I mean, we  buy the same things without realizing it, sometimes at the same time, and we go through similar life experiences at the same time too... it's weird).  We still go antiquing together, and we still inspire each other to new levels of creativity.  And we still laugh until we wheeze and cry.

Though miles will probably continue to separate us for years, our hearts were bound together a long time ago in that inexplicable bond that childhood friends share. 

Who knows where we'll be in three more years, or thirty more years.  But one thing I know: we will always be friends, we will always be there for each other, we will always be family, and we will always laugh until we wheeze and cry.

Exploration, Energy, Encouragement...

Kindred spirits: you may or may not be familiar with the term.  You've probably heard it a few times, but you're only familiar with the term if you've experienced it.  You know, people who have entered your life for either a season or the long haul with whom you share a connection that you can't quite explain.  Kindred spirits span the gaps of age, race, gender, and status, and are certain to encourage the heart.  I've had the good fortune to have had several kindred spirits, and today, I think I discovered another.

I spent the morning/early afternoon with a former colleague and yes, kindred spirit.  I was refreshed and energized after scones, tea, conversation, and St. Petersburg exploration.  While our lives have been and continue to be different and there are years between us, I was blessed to by our common ground today.  The Lord used her to both encourage and inspire me.

And in other news, I've become a St. Pete fan.  A legit St. Pete fan.  This old city has more charm and character in its little finger than the rest of the greater Pinellas area has in its whole body.  We drove down cobblestone streets and oohed and ahhed over the glorious old bungalows, we lingered over beautiful art in a couple galleries.  We explored a huge bookstore, complete with that wonderful old-book smell and a friendly cat.  We stopped to take pictures of architecture, and popped into a tiny cupcakery next to a little European chocolate shop.  And there was still so much more to explore!  Well, I'm a convert.  I'd live in one of those little old houses in a heartbeat.  In these photos, I hope you'll see even a fraction of the beauty I saw, and maybe you'll become a St. Pete fan too.

Regardless of your opinion of St. Pete, I hope you'll do some exploring of your own, and hopefully with a kindred spirit.

Musings on the Happenings of a Busy Saturday Afteroon...

We were a whirlwind of productivity, a flurry of fruitfulness.  A dynamic duo, a powerful pair-- that was my best friend/coworker and me on Saturday.  We had a goal in mind and a shopping list in hand.  Though the task was daunting, we ourselves remained undaunted, because we'd done this before-- many times. 
First on the list:  JoAnn's for the perfect fabric to function as a yet-to-be-painted backdrop for the all-too upcoming play.  It had to be sturdy, roll-able, the perfect size, and perhaps most importantly, the right price.

And we had no real idea what we were looking for.  In typical "us" fashion, we breezed our way (we do not dawdle, you see) through the front doors and straight to the fabric section, where we promptly told a busy-looking woman what we were looking for.  In rapid-fire, heavily-Greek-accented knowledge, she corralled us over to the right fabric, repeating the measurements over and over aloud.  As she spoke louder and faster as she explained what we'd do, I had to concentrate maybe harder than I've ever concentrated to catch it all.  But I caught it, and I also caught that this fast-talking, bright, Greek fabric woman wasn't concerned about making a buck.  She was enjoying the challenge of finding us the perfect fabric at the lowest price. 

I had to give my bestie a rundown in un-accented English, as the details had flown past her just a bit too fast.  She smiled and relaxed just a bit-- our biggest challenge was complete!  And as our new Greek friend cut the fabric (still repeating the measurements over and over aloud) and made sure we got a 50% off coupon, Bestie was ready to cry with relief.  What a blessing this woman was.  We made sure to fill out a survey card so she would receive little golden scissors on her name badge.  It was the least we could do.

We moved on to the next store, narrowly making the turn and again breezing straight to the Tempera paint aisle and making our exits faster than I may have ever gone in and out of a Michael's in my life.  We piled our bags and selves into the car and laughed.
"I love when we do this!"
"I know-- we're so good at it!"
"Hahaha, we've been doing it since-- we were RAs?  No, since we helped our RA with open houses!"
And then Bestie said, "I can't wait until you have some huge event that I can help you with like this!"  I laughed, but then I thought, I don't care if I ever have some huge event and I need help (though a wedding would be nice).  Because there is simple joy in helping the ones you love succeed, whether it's getting the best deal on spray paint and paint brushes or delivering Advil doses on their wedding day.  When they succeed, I succeed.  I can use my no-nonsense, "get-r-done" (thanks a lot, South, for giving me that phrase) proclivities for the benefit of my friends and family, and it blesses me; more importantly, it pleases the Lord.

So the next time you have a Saturday you'd rather be spending in a REM cycle or catching up on "The Real Housewives of Orange County" (not that I ever want to catch up on that show, ever...), consider blessing a friend with your time and talents, and in turn you may be surprised the joy you experience and the memories you make.