Ask For Steve (or Stephen)

...at the Verizon store on Fort Union blvd.

Why?  Because he's a super nice, friendly, go-above-and-beyond kind of guy.

That's why.

Remember when I mentioned that my new iphone was stolen?  Well...

Someone (the dirty rotten thief?  Or maybe his/her mother?) dumped my phone at a Verizon store.  It was unusable because of too many attempts to figure out the access code.

• So there it sat in the back room of the store, for a few weeks, waiting for someone to come claim it.  

• But Steve got sick of looking at the thing and thought to himself;  somebody wants this phone back...  It was probably stolen.  And so he took it home.  

• He plugged it in. 

• He hacked into it which erased everything on my phone, except the serial number.

• Then he looked up the serial number, just to see if this phone was attached to a verizon account.  (It was!)

• And then he called me.  A good six weeks after my purse was stolen, I'd gotten my phone back!

Let's here it for Steve!!!  Woot!

Date Night

We tried something new.

It was a gorgeous evening.

There were lots of bugs.  We ate more than a few.

We rode bikes by moonlight.  It was so lovely I forgot to change the settings on my camera.

day ten: Childhood Memory

"A true friend is someone who knows all about you and likes you anyway." 

 -Christi Mary Warner

I had no idea how I was going to pull today's challenge off...until I was folding laundry a few days ago.  And then I pulled it out of the dryer.

Today's photos is of a gift, given to me by my cousin Melinda, for my 15th or 16th birthday.   It's a pillowcase. 

When I opened it, Nanette (my aunt) laughed and said, "it's perfect!"  "So true!" My cousin chuckled in agreement.  She found a gift that had my name all over it.

Except,

I honestly didn't get it at first.  Did they really think this described me?  Really?  I had no idea.  Somehow this piece of fabric became a mirror that showed me an aspect of my personality I was too self-absorbed to notice before.  As I considered the possibility,  I realized;

Melinda was spot on.   

And I'll keep this gift forever.  Makes me laugh.  I wish I could say it shut me up (because sometimes I really should)  -- but who are we kidding?

***P.S.  Eddie saw this post and said, "Hey!  What's my pillowcase doing on there? I love that pillowcase."  

Ha!  

Gift From Qatar

I have a painting in my house.  It came all the way from Qatar.  It was given to me by a mother and father this week as a thank you gift for helping to carpool their kids home from school these last few months.  They needed some help because Dad (who usually took the kids home from school) was going to Afghanistan for 6 months.

So that's what we've been doing.  My kids have someone to chat with and joke with on the way home and it's been a lot of fun.

This week, Mother gave ME that painting, and gas money.  To thank,  ME?  I accepted the gift, to be gracious, but it was very humbling.  What sacrifice did I make?


Here, a man and his family make a real sacrifice.  Part for 6 months.  (and it's not the first time) - Time which they will never get back, but have chosen to sacrifice in behalf of me and everyone else in this country. 

And then, to top it all off - they give me a beautiful painting.  They say, "thank you" to me?  Their house is one the way to my house.  It was nothing.  Really. 

They are one amazing family.  They are strong and good, kind people.  I have so much respect for them and I'm grateful for their example, especially today.   Grateful for all who have served and serve. 


Highlights of today:

• Flags on the lawn, up and down the street.
• Eddie waking himself up to meet the boy scouts at 6:30 am to put those flags up in the neighborhood. 
• Birthday wishes.
• Lunch with family.
• Sushi.
• Bowling with the kids.
• Rain that looks like summer rain, with sunshine streaming through. 
• Watching a fun TV series with Sam (I rarely watch TV.  It's been nice to just hang out).
• School is OUT for the summer - WAHOO!

A Day In the Life (as a teenager)

Early on in our friendship, when we were in high school, Sam would come over and sometimes we would watch the sunset.  My parent's house - being up on the mountain and being the house that ends the street- had a mostly unobstructed view of the mountains on the other side of the valley.  It was a great way to spend a springtime evening.  One time, I remember sitting next to Sam on the bench out on the porch.  We had opened the windows so we could hear the music coming from inside the house.

Woke up. Got out of bed.
Dragged a comb across my head...


We sat there in silence for a while, listening to the music.  And then I worked up the courage to ask him a question.  I approached it with all the weight and soberness such a question merits.  I turned to him and said, "Sam?  Have you ever killed a man?"

This is where I expected him to laugh or look confused or worried or something.  Instead, without even flinching, he responded as matter of fact as if I'd asked him if he had ever taken Ms. Stone's English class;  "No.  Not that I know of.  Have you?"

"Well... " I said sheepishly.  "...I don't really want to talk about it."

"Really? Okay," He said.  And shrugged it off, like it was nothing.
"I was just kidding" I confessed, not knowing what to do now that my tease had been foiled.
"Oh yeah?"  (Now he's just confused).

And so what I thought was going to be a joke has left me a little worried.  What kind of person thinks that kind of question is NORMAL?  Who is this guy?  I couldn't tell if he's on to me or joking or what.

I still can't tell a lot of the time,  but I know one thing.
I like it.

Four More Seasons For All That's Broken To Mend...

Or also to be titled:
 "But When We're Sixteen". 

Or also to be titled:
 "This Is So Ridiculously Long There is No Way Anyone Is Going To Finish Reading It"

A dear friend of mine turned 33 on the 30th of March which is exactly two months to the day before my birthday.  I've known her since I was 10.   Neither of us were the hooked-at-the-elbow kind of girlfriends and we've gone years without so much as speaking to each other.  But when we do, we catch right up.  And, if I may be so bold to say so, I feel we are kind of soul mates.  It's a friendship I will always hold very dear. 

In our junior high days we went to the same school and so we spent more time together.  We'd often take walks and dream out loud.  She was on the basketball team and I was a cheer leader.  Like typical teenagers, even with those titles we didn't feel that we fit in anywhere.

One time I remember walking in her neighborhood.  We were 14 years old.  We talked about our insecurities and thought about how amazing we could be.  How awesome and beautiful we wanted to be.  We could have it all together.  Be visions of stunning awesome-ness.  The details of how to obtain such dreams weren't really laid out in detail, but we felt it so strongly.  It had to do with perfectly fit and naturally beautiful bodies, along with a sharp wit, deep confidence and talents galore.  We knew we could accomplish it and "when we were 16" we'd blow everyone away.  That gave us a whole two years to make it happen.  We decided we would do it.

And now she's 33.  Which means in exactly two months from her birthday, I will be 33.
Which also means, I am approximately 17 years past my deadline of becoming "stunningly awesome".  What a let down.

My whole life I've envisioned excellence, but feel I have not only not achieved it, but rarely actually even pursued it.  And when I do, I find distractions and obstacles all over the place!  I was reminded of this when I pulled out my guitar the other day, spent an hour strumming the same old songs over and over, never improving.  Never paying the price.

Today I feel so overwhelmed by all that I want to be, all that I feel I should be.
I feel so underachieved.  (Is that a word?)

As I approach the culmination of 33 years,  I feel so tempted to create another deadline.  Always a deadline.  "When I'm 16" became, "When I'm 18", then "When I have my baby" then "When the twins come", then "When I'm 30"  "When I go to the beach"  "When the school year starts" and now I've been flirting with

"When I'm 33".  Visions of accomplishments achieved in the next couple of months and throughout the coming year are swimming through my mind.

Except this time I mean it, I'm really going to do it,  I swear.
Hm.

~Leah's feet, in the sunshine

 A couple of years ago, I was standing in a parking lot with my mother in law.  We had just finished a Jazzercise class.  And she said something like, "I don't have to be amazing anymore."  My reaction was, " but you are so amazing!"  (It's true, she is).

But I knew what she meant. She was talking about this arbitrary standard of excellence we create for ourselves, believing that you are amazing because others look at you in an admiring way; because you scrapbook, or you keep a clean house, or you run marathons, or read books, or whatever.  She didn't need to "be amazing" anymore.  I could see in her face how freeing it felt, to be in that place finally.  She is free to be happy, pursue the best in life, and be her best, just for the joy of it.   At least, I think that's what she meant. 

I'm not sure because I don't think I'm there yet.  But I think I'm getting there, or at least considering it.  I am determined to have a great year, and challenge myself, learn some new things and hopefully grow up a little more.  I'm starting to see how shallow this illusion is, of "being amazing" - or rather getting to a point where I'm finally "there".  At that perfect, amazing place - where I have the ultra fit body AND the clean house AND have the minor pentatonic scale mastered AND help my kids with their homework AND magnify my calling AND sew that dang quilt, AND read the books... AND, well, you get my drift.

It's just not going to happen...not at the rate I'm going anyway.  I'll be lucky to accomplish one or two of those things.  I am SLOW with this kind of stuff.


It's so funny to think of myself and my friend at 14, dreaming, hoping, young and already awesome.  What did we need to prove?

I still want to be excellent.  I don't want to  resign to a life of mediocrity.  I desire to improve myself, it's my nature.   But I'm sick of the deadline.  Or rather, the 6-12 week deadlines to becoming  "astoundingly amazing".  It's ruining everything.  What does that even mean, anyway?

 











So.

I'm 33, minus 60 days (give or take) and  I'm throwing the deadline out the window...for now at least.  And maybe sometime this year, I'll be able to let go of that vision of "awesomeness" - whatever that means.

Maybe.