Crafternoon, attempt #1

In an effort to use Pinterest and not let Pinterest use us, Cait and I got together today for a little crafternoon.  I stopped by the Lobby of Hobbies on my way to pick up some canvases.  Having been there before, I set my course for the canvases and looked neither to the right nor the left.  A girl can get lost in that place, with paint brushes, artwork and bits and pieces of crafty heaven everywhere.  It takes a sturdy soul to make it to the checkout with only what was intended.

Canvases in hand, I made my getaway and showed up to Cait's house only a few minutes late.  Our first project was supposed to be drawing designs on a canvas with Elmer's glue and then spray painting white over the whole canvas after the glue dried.  Unfortunately, we read the fine print on the original link that said the woman had drawn her design on wax paper with puffy paint and then glued it to the canvas and painted it.  The glue came out bubbly and too runny, so we ditched that project. 

Undeterred, we moved on to making t-shirt bracelets.  Here's the picture we were working with…

 

Yeah, great, so even and smooth.  Well, this is what I ended up with after about 3 times of redoing my work. 

The point is, photos can make things look easier than they are.  We learned from it and moved on to the next project.  These rosettes were super easy and we only used fabric (ribbon in Cait's case) and a glue gun!  Tie a knot in one end of the strip, then wind the fabric around the knot and twist it, gluing as you go.

Finally, we found a headband project that seemed doable in a short amount of time.  I cut off five strips off of an old t-shirt, one inch wide each, and did a 5 strand braid.  It's not finished yet, but hopefully soon it will look like this.  Until then, it looks like this. 

We had a lot of fun crafting away, and learned some valuable lessons about realistic expectations for first time projects!

LMS, who loves the smell of glue gun in the morning!

Notes from the dance floor

Wednesday was just one of those great days.  For one, I got to revisit the halls of nerd-dom with my high school friends. Invariably we spend more time talking about philosophy, politics and theology than what we're up to.  We're all in different fields; we have businessmen, engineers, educators, scientists and computer techs.  Seldom does my brain get such a well-rounded workout than when I'm having hearty conversations with my high school friends.  I think people walking by at Starbucks must wonder what's happening when they walk by and hear snatches of "Hume would say…", "what Socrates was really talking about…", "we're isolating the cell that…". 

From there I went straight to African Fusion dance class.  I bought an AmazonLocal deal for 5 dance classes for $10.  I was a happy camper.  The first one I went to was ballet aerobics.  The next day I had muscles sore that I didn't know existed.  So we African Fusioned it up, doing the swimmer, swat, skier, squat, all to the rhythm of African drums. 

Drive home, in the shower, out of the shower, into my mom's cowboy boots, down some caesar chicken salad a la mom, and off to the next bout of dancing. 

[Have I ever mentioned my fiery, burning love for dancing of all sorts?]

I drove with Cait to a little venue where the country music was lilting and the boots were scooting.  We met some friends there and danced the night away.  The company was great, as was the music.  I danced with the friends, which was so fun, and I danced with some guys I didn't know.  The latter experience ranged from slightly creepy to amazing quality of leading and footwork.  Here I would like to take the time to note a few things about dancing in general. 

1. Ask me to dance.  You're working with 97:3 ratio.  For every 100 times you ask me to dance, guys, 97 of them will be a yes.  If it's a no, it means I'm deathly ill, or I think you're a serial creeper.  It drives me crazy when guys sit on the wall and don't dance.  I WANT TO DANCE.  I know you're nervous, but if I can almost guarantee your success in advance, doesn't that help?

2. How do I say "I WANT TO DANCE" without opening my mouth?  I haven't exactly figured this one out.  Would it behoove me to stand with my friends?  Away from my friends?  Hands in the pocket?  Is hands on the hips intimidating?  Look for someone to make eye contact with?  Stare off into the distance?  I think part of it is dancing with all the people you came with.  If people know you aren't tied to one partner, like a husband or siamese twin, they'll probably be more likely to ask you to dance.

3. If you are not a great dancer, that's OK!  Refer to #1 for reassurance.  I want to dance.  Period.  If we just do the 1 move you know, that's OK.  Stop feeling self-conscious and use that energy to focus on getting better. 

4. Notes on wardrobe.  Dancing requires some wardrobe forethought.  If it's going to fall down, ride up, or fall off, don't wear it.  Wear shoes that will stay on with spinning, dipping and flying.  You'll probably sweat, so medium color tones might not be the best choice for the armpits.  It's a tricky business, getting dressed for a dance.  I took a risk and wore my mom's cowboy boots, which were a great stylistic choice, but ended up, eh, rubbing me the wrong way in the heel direction.  (Boots are a great protective measure if you happen to be dancing with beginners who haven't learned to step where your toes aren't.)  Hair is also a tricky one because no one likes getting flicked in the face with long locks.  If you can keep it out of your eyes and have it down, go for it.

5. There will be awkwardness.  Yes, you can have the finesse of a snow leopard, but the likelihood of awkward moments is still high as a hippie.  There will be times that you get asked to dance in the middle of a song, so you're stuck with the decision of whether to take the next song or part ways with a "Thanks for that dance, it was lovely".  Usually you end with that and walk back to whatever wall you were standing against nervously.  There will also be times when someone dances with you for three songs.  That's not a disaster because it means you're dancing.      

Thanks to the crew who went for a wonderful time.  I realized last night how much I enjoy my guy friends.  I've missed hanging out with my college group of guy friends, so it was great to go out and have some fun last night with the hometown crew.  I came home happy and sore of foot, eager to whirl around that dance floor again soon.

Much love and may your dance card always be full,

Little Miss Sunshine

This one's for the girls, for the sake of the boys

This morning, on my drive to the salon to get my much needed pedicure, I was sipping coffee out of my mom's travel mug and listening to country music, as is my habit.  The world through my large tortoise shell sunnies looked pretty good on this clear winter morning.  When I drive, I either sing - loudly, pray - fervently, or think thoughts - scatteredly.  I happened to be occupied with the last one on my 20 minute drive to foot heaven.  I think it was a Casting Crowns song that got me started.  The song was all about men manning up to lead and protect their families.

I don't think that's quite fair.  We talk about our desire for men to be shepherds of their kids' hearts and protectors and chivalrous lovers of their wives.  We talk about our desire for them to be courageous and lead with integrity, to pursue women in an honorable way.  You hear songs about men needing to get it together and be the hero.

That's nice, but do you ever hear songs that go like this, "Yeahhhhh, whoaaaaaa, women, we just need to be more encouraginggggg and less domineeeeeringgggggg, learn something about suuuubmisssion..."  Heavens to betsy, you'd have the sexist police all over your case.  Somehow man-bashing is fine and socially acceptable, but don't you dare call women to up their game.  Don't even think about mentioning submission.

AH.  I just used the s word.  Yes, I did.  Feminists everywhere have just blacklisted me, but that's what I was thinking about this morning.  It's all well and good for Columbus to say, "Hey guys, I'm going to go sail to India, see ya" but he needs a crew.  It's all well and good for us to say, "Hey guys, go man up, be all you can be, lead, protect, be Prince Charming every day," but they need a crew.

There's another side to this human equation.  US!  Surely we have a job too?  It doesn't make sense for guys to be off saving small children from burning buildings and combating corruption while we sit and chatter about all the things they aren't doing.  As it turns out, this job of being awesome women comes with instructions!  Who knew?!  Check it out.

Then the LORD God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.”... But for Adam there was not found a helper fit for him.  So the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and while he slept took one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh. And the rib that the LORD God had taken from the man he made into a woman and brought her to the man. Then the man said,

   “This at last is bone of my bones
   and flesh of my flesh;
she shall be called Woman,
   because she was taken out of Man.”

- Genesis 2:18-23

Catch that?  Not just, "it is not good that the man should be alone" everyone knows that part, but "I will make him a helper fit for him."  Hmmm... why do you think God would make Adam a helper?  Maybe because he needed HELP?  I don't mean that in a demeaning way to guys, but they need help!  We are quick to pour a pot of boiling criticism over others' actions (or lack of them) instead of taking responsibility for our own.  

Are you keeping the men around you from being what God has called them to be by reminding them of their failures instead of their successes or whining about their shortcomings compared to all that God calls them to be?  CUT IT OUT.  Yes, hold them to high standards, but hold yourself to high standards too.  Don't expect them to fulfill their job if you're giving no attention to yours.  How can they be the best version of themselves if you're giving them no help and in some cases, hurting the process?  

And don't give me that feminist trash-ola about women being equal in leadership skills, deserving of kudos, just as capable and intelligent blah blah blah.  My best friend is a mechanical engineer.  I know women are smart and capable.  So be smart and capable and help a brother out.  Use that finesse and acute instinct to uplift, encourage and empower.  Stop tromping all over men in your talented dainty champagne stilettos.  Watch the power of your words when you point out things they're good at.  Let them know you trust them.  Submission isn't a state of inaction and limp noodleness.  It's just a requirement if you're ever going to dance with someone successfully.      

Love to my girls and hope to my boys,

Little Miss Sunshine


P.S. As an addendum, courtesy of my friend, Caitlin, here's more food for thought on the limits of submission, worth your time - http://www.worldviewchurch.org/worldview-challenge/1078-women-stop-submitting-to-men

Hi, my name is Sunshine, and I love Pinterest

Remember Confession 36?  Yeah, temperance is not my natural bent.  I'm either all or nothing.  Give me cherry juice stronger than steel, or give me none.  Let me read 3 books in a week, or none at all.  Fire or ice.  You get the picture.  So.  Pinterest.  It's this website that everyone's talking about (don't feel bad if you aren't talking about it, that's just a sweeping generalization).

The premise is it's an e-bulletin board where you can pin your interests.  There are a variety of things people use it for, but primarily it's design, food, fashion and crafts.  You can pin pictures from anywhere online or you can re-pin pictures from other people's boards.  My brother's girlfriend helped me set up my own account, so the official blame goes to her, but the unofficial blame goes to me.

What you have is a whole website full of ideas and beautiful dazzling photos.  Hello.  I love ideas and dazzling photos and crafts and cooking and design.  What was I thinking?!  Of course, it's a great site, and you can find some pretty sweet ideas and recipes.  But mix that with my lack of temperance...  Now I want to spend time looking through ways to french braid your hair and make Christmas wreaths and fold envelopes for snail mail letters.

The problem with browsing through recipes for peanut butter chocolate chip cookies and light fixtures made out of paper mache is that is it's easy to look at those things and not DO them.  What's the point of looking at creative things people have done if you aren't going to do them yourself?  It becomes this chasing of the wind - always looking for the next cool thing and great idea without making use of them.  A huge apple tree that never makes any apples.  Waste of time.

I think I could be a crafter, I really do!  My heritage isn't bereft of crafters, and I'm cheap enough that making something myself is appealing.  Redo coffee cans with doilies and spray paint as vases?  Probably cheaper than buying them.  Decorating that envelope to send to a friend by snail mail?  Worth the time.  So my challenge to myself is not to ditch Pinterest in an effort to curb my internet use.  That would just be a part of my all or nothing tendencies.  Instead, my challenge is to master things instead of letting them master me.  I should be making things improve me instead of wasting my life misusing them.  Facebook - great social tool, not a good way to fill time.  Pinterest - full of creative ideas and inspiration, not a place to be for more than 30 minutes.

Do I feel a New Year's resolution coming on?  Perhaps.  More about that later...

In other news, got to hang out with the cousins tonight!  I love to laugh with them.  Also, pedicure tomorrow.  Mmmm.  After a summer and four months in Chacos and being at the beach, a pedicure is going to be a great thing.

Much love,

LMS

Hurrah for December 26 and April 14 and September 2!

Over on my right is our living room fireplace.  The idea of having a fireplace in Arizona is a little silly, but it's there and that's where Mom hung all our Christmas cards this year.  They say things like "Joy, Peace, Love"; "Celebrating Faith, Family, Friends" and "Joy to the World".  I would say those are things that we shouldn't tie down to one day.  What if we did that to other things?

     Well, tomatoes are really great, but let's only eat them one day of the year.  

    I love being married to you, so let's make our marriage super special and only go on dates one day out of

   365.

    My job is meaningful and gives me a chance to change the world, but I only work 1 day a year so it doesn't

    get old.  

That's a lot of crap and you know it.  I realize that for the sake of Hallmark, we have to organize our holidays around calendar days.  You can't sell cards for Valentines Day if you don't squish your celebration of love into a day.  Well, retail world, that's fine.  You make your cute Christmas wreaths and nasty chalk Valentines candy and Easter peeps.  But you've sorely underestimated me if you think I'm going to be able to stuff all of my Christmas excitement into one little day, or even a month-long season.  

Those big things on the Christmas cards - faith, family, friends, joy, peace, love - they exist because of a truth.  The baby born in a manger was the savior that made "God and sinner, reconciled" possible.  That baby wasn't born so we could have a nice looking manger scene or so people could write songs about cows and angels.  Christmas happened to make Easter possible.  Thirty some years later, that baby traded the splinters of a cow trough for the splinters of a cross.  That "God and sinner, reconciled" thing?  That means that there's hope for the mess we made.  It means that Christmas and Easter are inseparable and their importance is paramount. 

The scale of that hope is a reason to celebrate on December 25... and Easter, and January 5, and April 10, and whatever other day you happen to be alive.  That churchy word - gospel, or "good news" is talking about what happened at Christmas and Easter and the years in between.  The good news is that Jesus came, lived, died, and came to life again.  He kicked sin and death in the face and gave us a way to have a relationship with God again.

I think singing "Oh come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant" and "Christ the Lord is risen today aaaaaaalleluia" are things we should be singing, humming, whistling, and celebrating whether it's 4:15 on a Monday in June or 7:00 on Christmas morning.  Give gifts!  Get together!  Make fudge!  Christmas is too good to be confined.  

Celebrating Christmas today and every day,

Little Miss Sunshine

Merry Stressmas!

Christmas should be all kinds of things.  It should be merry and bright.  It should be full of decking halls and silver bells and sleigh rides.  The other day, however, it was full of being mad.  I just wanted to buy the right present.  I wanted something that would say I love you and I value you and if you asked me to dig a ditch to China, I would, just for you.  Unfortunately, there aren't presents that come with that on the tag.  

Mostly, the problem was I forgot my shopping mantra... "I will be decisive, I will be successful".  So there I was, wandering around Target, searching for that perfect something that would accomplish Christmas magic.  I wavered, I vacillated, I failed.  Thankfully, I ran into my mother and she told me to just go home and try again the next day.  So I quit and went home, leaving the battlefield for another day.  I was mad.  I wanted the right present!  I wanted it to say the right thing!  I wanted to be done Christmas shopping in October like a good, organized firstborn.  

Today was a different story.  I came equipped with my secret weapon.  Forget Woad Raiders (yes, Age of Empires reference), I had a Goad Raider, who happened to be my dad.  Dad doesn't adhere to the shopping mantra verbally because it's so internalized.  Decisive, successful - the goad for any girl with shopping troubles.  

My Goad Raider and I arrived at the mall after a great lunch at a little BBQ dive.  Cars snaked sluggishly into the mall in long lines.  We lamented everyone else's belated shopping excursions, knowing that we were the ones to blame.  People were rushing here and there, picking up last minute presents. 

Let me tell you, this battle was over almost before it began.  {Sidenote: I just saw a commercial for Wendy's double cheeseburger... gross.}  I was making good decisions all over the place.  I was on fire.  Why can't every shopping excursion be like that?  

One thing I've noticed about Christmas as I've gotten older is Christmas can be the most stressful time of the year.  Families are trying to coordinate and share time together, and we know families aren't perfect.  Aunt Rita's taste in Christmas sweaters is a little... gaudy, and your cousin Antoine hasn't developed a sense for when jokes are OVER.  So yeah, that's stressful.  Then there's the budget.  We know finances can be one of the biggest stressors in life, and Christmas can be expensive.  You have people in your life that you want to buy the moon for, and people in your life that you are obligated to at least buy a moon rock for.  Chocolate bark buying and ham buying and that new wreath for the living room can quickly get out of hand.  

Suddenly, Christmas goes from holly jolly to as much fun as a paper cut.  Don't be that guy or girl.  Don't you let that happen to you!  There is too much light, too much hope, too much magic to enjoy.  Believe me, you don't have time to get stressed about whether to put pecans in the cranberry salad.  Uncle Herb's allergic to nuts, remember?  Leave them out.  And trying to squeeze in that last Christmas party?  Skip it.  Catch up with those people in April, when you can sit on the patio and enjoy each other's company over a strawberry mint iced tea.  Don't bust the budget.  Write a letter that says you love them and would dig that ditch to China.  Keep Christmas merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be white. 

Much love,

LMS  

Confession 45

Confession #45.  I am terrified of not reaching my potential.  What if, at the end of my life, instead of "Well done, good and faithful servant" I hear "Eh, not bad, sort of faithful servant"?!  Setting aside the fact that that particular passage is from a parable and not Jesus telling us exactly what the end of our earthly lives will be like, it makes you think about what the heck you're doing. 

The idea is that God has given us each different amounts of things to manage.  Some of us have marketing skills or juggling skills or crepe making skills.  Others have an eye for architecture or an ear for languages.  What is Jesus going to find when He comes back for the annual business meeting, if you will?

It's not like He's looking for gains in the conventional sense.  He doesn't care about profit on Wall Street.  He cares about whether my heart is kind, my spirit sensitive, and my mind sharp.  Am I lighting the world and mending the things that are broken?  I can't even do it on my own strength.  He just wants me to use the tools He's given to do the work He's provided. 

And yet.  That's a little scary.  It's not confined to a checklist.  There's no rubric.  I can't just use TurnItIn online or hit a "submit" button.  This is an assignment that doesn't finish.  I can't feed someone, clothe someone, and give someone clean water and log my hours for credit.  He doesn't want a certain number of nice things in each category.  He demands all.  All leaves no room for excuses or exceptions. 

What if I have what it takes to become a great teacher?  To impact my students in a way they never forget?  To teach them that character matters, that life has hope, that math and reading are a magical way to understand the world?  But I know myself.  Sometimes I take shortcuts and give less than excellence.  Sometimes I forget that cutting out paper flowers for leis for students is meaningful for their learning experience and thus a profitable use of my time. 

Should I be writing unit lesson plans now?  Memorizing the national curriculum standards and reading the latest research on reading instruction?  That's just my future teaching life.  What about the other part of my world?  The possibilities for change are exhaustingly endless.

Yesterday, our conversation turned to Amy Carmichael, a young woman who gave her life for the orphans of India.  What are my pitiful contributions of living in a cozy house ten minutes from a beach in Australia or trekking around Morocco helping teachers for two weeks when she gave up everything and stayed her whole life, without family except those she met along the way?  

It goes back to the everything principle.  There can be no holding back, no resisting, no reservations.  It's not how much can I spare for Jesus, but how can I leave anything untouched by His fullness of life?  And when there is failure and the occasional corner cutting, there is grace.  There is "no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus".  There is "the life I now live I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me". 

Thankful for a Savior and a stable,

Little Miss Sunshine 

I just can't be bothered

It's a phrase I love from Australia.  I think we should import it.  "I can't be bothered."  It carries with it a sort of imperial toss of the head and an idea that something isn't worth your time.  Usually you hear it in the context of homework or menial tasks, "I just can't be bothered with running that errand right now."

Well, you know what?  I can't be bothered with being discontent right now.  Today I was talking with two dear friends who were lamenting  the languishing damsels in distress until their Prince Charming shows up.  They were frustrated that anyone, though well meaning, would waste their lives like that.

Over and over, I am reminded of the power of this phase of life.  I have so much time to use for whatever I please!  There are no diapers to change, no meals to plan, no bills to pay.  What am I doing with all this time?!  Wishing I was somewhere else in life?  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!  Are you kidding me, Miss Sunshine?

No, I'm not joining a convent, and yes, I still don't love being single, but there's a difference between waiting and being idle.  As if the kingdom of heaven revolves around me being happy.  How many thousands of reasons are there to do something besides seeking my own success?  Back in Jr. High, in my Bible drill days, we memorized a verse in Proverbs.  I can always remember the second half - "He will give you the desires of your heart", but never the first.  Maybe that says something about the priorities of my heart, but the first part is "Delight yourself in the LORD".  Not a suggestion, not good advice, it's an imperative.

It sounds like a strange command.  There's not the usual flavor of Old Testament living within the law.  When's the last time you thought about God saying "Enjoy knowing Me".  Don't even think about substituting the word "fun" in there.  No way.  Surely God isn't serious.  It has to be a cosmic practical joke.  Maybe the Hebrew says "Delight in following 7,000 commands of the LORD and don't you dare mess up or you shall be struck by lightening"?  Nope, it's a real verse, in the real Bible.  God commands us to find joy in Him, and we know He wouldn't command us to do something we couldn't do.

Don't forget the second half of the verse, the almost-too-good-to-be-true part.  "And He will give you the desires of your heart".  Sounds like a promise to me.  The more you delight yourself in Him, the more the desires of your heart will line up with the true and good things God loves to lavish on His kids.  This isn't prosperity gospel crap-o-la rubbish promising scarlet sports cars and a Christmas bonus if you enjoy God's presence.  This is the real deal, the good stuff, the joi-de-vivre that money can't buy.

Not to be bothered with small unpleasantnesses when greater things are at stake,

Little Miss Sunshine

Christmas Bait and Switch

I fall for it all the time.  'Tis the season of "Every kiss begins with Kay" and the Coca Cola polar bears.  Things are glittering and sparkly.  The air is full of magic, romance and music.  People ask me what I want for Christmas and all of a sudden I'm lulled into a sweet, dreamy stupor.  Sugar plum fairies and navy pea coats are dancing in my head, along with things like these...

Mmmm.  They whisper sultry sweet nothings in my ear.

HOLD IT.  Hold it RIIIIIIIIGHT there.  Good try, trendy cool stuff.  Good try.  You say you're important, that you bring hope of a better wardrobe, peace in attempts to climb the social status ladder, and light shining down from heaven and reflecting off those fabulous bronzy sequins.  

I have a funny feeling those angels in the fields weren't talking about Tom's and Matt Wertz when they were talking about "good tidings of great joy".  I think they were talking more about the Light of the World making a crash landing into the darkness of a Christmas night in Bethlehem to change the way we live and love.  All that glittery stuff and the ads that sell it would have you believe that if you buy, consume, follow these things, you will be fulfilled.  You will be beautiful and loved and successful.  They march with billboards flying, leaving in their wake a people who are unfulfilled, spiritually impoverished and looking for the beauty they were promised.  It's a bait and switch.  Instead of fulfilling you, they leave you empty.  

Their intent is not to make you empty.  That's just part of the result.  The distraction is integral to the deception.  If you're out chasing the latest and greatest, you'll be too busy to think, to reason, to change the world.  The iPad 4 is a sufficient substitute for courage and discipline.  The newest Gibson guitar will make up for perseverance and self-sacrifice.  If you'll only settle for devouring and consuming, you'll never be a threat by fulfilling your calling to create, be light, speak truth and make disciples.  

May your days be merry and bright,

Little Miss Sunshine

The Beginning of the End

The events leading up to the end of Australian Adventure Part 1 are not extraordinary, just noteworthy. 

First, there was packing.  We avoided it like the plague.  It was messy, confusing, and there's never quite enough space.  Things we found to do while avoiding packing included chatting on Facebook, oven roasting chickpeas, looking through pictures from Pastor John from the last 4 months… stop the presses.  This is more important than whatever I was saying. 

I'm sitting here in the airport trying to tell you about the things I did to get here, and there's a family to my left with a kid with dreads.  Repeat: kid with dreads.  Ladies and gentlemen, this is a first for Little Miss Sunshine.  I have seen dreads as a conscious choice or unconscious consequence of twenty somethings, but never have I ever seen them on a kid.  There's a chance that it could have just happened, and Sparky Jr. just wouldn't hold still long enough for a haircut, or that Mom was too busy chasing kids 1, 2 and 4 to bother with a haircut for poor middle child #3.  And they're in the airport - the whole family, and Dad is lugging his own weight in carry on bags.  Merry Christmas in the airport.

So we finally stopped avoiding packing long enough to pack.  I managed with two checked bags and a book bag.  Then there was tea.  Remember, tea is what Australians call dinner.  Joan was out with tennis club Christmas festivities, so it was Ian and us fending for ourselves.  We sat down to an old Aussie/Brit classic - meat and three veg.  That means we had corned beef heated up in the microwave and steamed peas/potatoes/carrots. 

Ian took us down to the church to drop off the things we're leaving here at the church.  He's a sweet man.  Then he showed us around the factory he's been renovating.  Yeah, don't forget he's 74.  I'm not talking renovating like supervising, I'm talking renovating like painting and doing tile.  He dropped us off at the beach to walk home the pretty way. 

We had visions, not of fairy plums, but of a nice sunset walk on the beach for our last night in Oz for a few weeks.  That was alright the first few minutes, before the rocks.  There was a rocky stretch of beach between us and home, so we tried to pick our way over and around and through without slicing our bare feet open.  This led us to climbing a bluff, climbing a fence, and hoofing our way back to the house in the dark. 

After that there was a drop in to an 18th birthday party, and the discovery of the absence of my camera.  That was a problem.  I was leaving the hemisphere and my camera was missing.  The next morning I hit the snooze on my 5AM alarm and was slipping on my boots at 5:30.  Sometimes I think I do as much running out of running clothes as I do in them.  Anyway, off I went down the hill in search of the camera.  It was precisely where I figured it would be.  There was only one place I could remember being less than vertical, and that was when I was climbing the fence.  The camera was sitting there in the grass, right where it had slipped out of my jacket pocket.  Recon mission accomplished, back to the house. 

From there, Pastor John picked us up and dropped us off at the airport.  Checked in, made it through customs, and parked ourselves on an airport bench, got on a plane, and made it hoooooome!

Love from HOME,

LMS

Spilling Things

I'm afraid I'm making a mess again, dripping everywhere. Sorry. It's like a combo deal of "my heart is overflowing with a good theme", "measure for measure it shall be given to you, pressed down, shaken together, overflowing", and "you anoint my head with oil, my cup overflows". 

Ps. 45; Luke 6; Ps. 23)

Things my heart is overflowing and spilling all over with…

1. Our last Sunday at church until we come back after Christmas. So many kisses, we'll miss yous, and we're praying for yous. These people are incredible. They already have so much of my heart and we've only been here 4 months.

2. Messy Church Christmas - our family/community Christmas extravaganza with crafts, music, story and dinner. So many of our church family came to help and brought food for the dinner. I got to talk with one of the moms about the Sunday family worship and she sounded interested, AND they have a huge garden, AND they don't live far from us.

3. People at work. Sure, sometimes the people I work with can be annoying, but for the most part, they're great. The cook's comment tonight - Wow, since you don't drink, you must feel great all the time. You're never hung over. And my conversation with Lachy in the bar. He said he thought I'd make a really good teacher. No matter how much I want to be a teacher, sometimes I doubt my ability to ever be a good one. It's affirming to hear that I'm not the only one who thinks being a teacher is a good idea.

4. Presents. A blue planner and HANDKERCHIEF from Margaret. I've never had a hankie before and everyone uses them here… well, older people. A pink and white pearl cuff from Ilma, who'll be 94 in Feb. She's a fireball. Christmas cards wishing us safe travels and quick returns. It's like they love us or something. I wish I could bottle it up and save it for later, as it's spilling all over the carpet and bedspread in its current state.

5. Beautiful summer nights. Cicadas are chirping, the aggies are blooming, and occasionally you catch a whiff of summery watermelon smells on the breeze.

6. A God who never fails. With all this planning and running around, you can lose sight of the forest for the trees. Even among the checklists and coordinating, God is working.

7. Thoughts of home. In four days, plus a few confusing time zone changes, I'll be home. It will be cold, like it's supposed to be at Christmas, and there will be lights and fudge and tacos.

There, I tried to sop up all the overflowing and pour it into a post for you.

Much love,

Little Miss Sunshine

Living Two Moments at a Time

It's too much.  I don't think our coronary arteries could withstand looking at more than one day.  There would be too much.  Too many babies giggling, too many disappointed dreams, too many heartbreakingly beautiful sunsets.  Any more than experiencing one moment at a time, and I think the stuff life's made of would do us in.

Oh, we try hard enough.  We have planners and video cameras and things that help us capture the past and plan the future.  Those can be useful tools for living, but sometimes, we get too caught up with trying to double up on life.  Henry lives a moment at a time?  Pfft, I'm going to live two moments at a time.  I'm going to plan, worry, and prepare so perfectly that I'll really be living in two moments at once.

Balderdash.  You can't do it.

I have moments when the stuff life's made of is almost too much, even moment by moment.  It's as though the beauty of a Texas plains thunderstorm or the sound of a Beethoven concerto or the feeling of a deep sadness will split every cell I own.  It's like I can't laugh hard enough or sing loud enough or be still long enough to satisfy the moment.  I wonder what God feels like as He stands outside of time, seeing the tangled, bloody, beautiful mess of history and knowing the thoughts of every man at every moment.

He was there when the first jasmine bloomed.  He understood Henry VIII's motives.  He grieved for Pearl Harbor and for Nagasaki.  He cheered for a girl as she laid a baby in a manger because there was no room for him in the inn.  He laughed as the shepherds shook in their boots listening to the angel's instructions.  He carefully calculated the timing of the Kings and the Christmas trio's escape to Egypt.  He was there when your dog died.  He'll be there when we have been forgotten.

He is forever.  He is infinitely strong.  He is Emmanuel, God with us.  

Christmas is coming,

LMS

    

Playing Dress Up

Pink lacy parasols

Ruby red slippers that don't fit

A hat from the thrift store.

It's a bit crunched.

Strings of fake pearls,

Clip on diamond earrings

Laughing loudly,

Smiling cheaply,

Making conversation out of

Gossip and hearsay.

Here I am again,

Playing dress up.

You ask me why I

Don't wear the real diamonds

You bought me,

Or the pin

With the sapphire.

Suddenly my pearls look dull

The shoes, ill fitting,

And I see what you see.

A princess playing dress up

In the closet of a whore.  

Christmas is full of poppycock

It is. Whether you know it or not, Christmas is full of poppycock. Angels are the first item on the list that come to mind. What got me all riled up about this was watching the kids at playgroup have their dress rehearsal Christmas pageant. They were dressed to the nines, kings with purple robes and gifts, shepherds, angels with halos. Yes, angels with halos.

When you think angel, you probably picture pudgy cherubs with harps and halos or beautiful blonde women with white robes. Hello. Have you read anything about angels? First of all, the angels we have names of are Michael and Gabriel, not Michaela and Gabrielle. All recorded angels in the Bible are male. I'm not ruling out the possibility of the existence of girl angels, there's just not textual evidence for it.

From what I can tell, they're a bit more fierce than your run of the mill cherub. They shut the mouths of lions, deliver messages, keep watch over people and will fight against the devil at the end of time. I know, I know, girly angels are pretty and gentle and nice. But who would you rather have your back, some girly glowy angel named Celeste or Angelique, or a rock of a sword-bearing angel named Michael? Yeah, thought so.

Another bit of poppycock is the notion that there were three kings. Ok, where does it say there were three kings? I'll save you the time. It doesn't. There were three gifts. Shoot, there could have been twenty of them, all hauling that gold, frankincense and myrrh from the East. I guess for the sake of retail they had to agree on a number, but don't let them fool you into thinking that's a hard and fast Christmas truth.

Can we talk about Mary for a second? How do we know she was Mary meek and mild? How do we know she wasn't more mighty and magnificent? All these Christmas pictures in kid books and Renaissance art make her seem sober, retiring, placid. They also make her white, which is dumb. Maybe she was feisty and fearless and terrified to be carrying a kid but trusting God to give her strength. Can you imagine the fight she and Joseph must have had when he found out she was pregnant? You'll notice in Matthew 1, there's a small time gap between the time that Joseph finds out and when the angel visits him and tells him the craziest story ever.

Now, about these gifts. They weren't Tonka trucks or Baby Einstein DVDs. For Jesus' first Christmas, which happened to be his birthday… which is why we have Christmas in the first place, he got gold and burial spices. Woohoo. Wait. WHAT?! Hold the phone. These kings come all the way from the East, following this star, trudging through sand and camel poo, and they bring gold and burial spices? Cultural difference or prophecy? Mmmmm.

On an Australian note, let's cover the topic of Christmas pudding. This is an ingredient to every traditional British holiday feast, which means it got dragged along to Australia. Americans, Christmas pudding is not what we would call pudding! It's much more along the lines of fruit cake minus gross candied fruit and plus moisture. They serve it in a bowl with whipped cream and hot custard. SO GOOD. 

I'm done being a cynic about Christmas. 

You may return to decking your halls and walls,

LMS

Packing for parts (not) unknown

The trial has come. I knew it would, but it seemed so far away in August and September, and even October. But now it's December, and it must be done. I have to start packing. You know how I hate packing. I love traveling, but packing is the waiting before the oven until you can taste the cookies. It's tedious, and you have to mind the details, or you'll end up in India without your underwear or Chile without your hiking sandals!

I'm being a trooper, though. Home is my motivation. I can't go home unless I pack. None of Mom's tacos unless I pack. No trouncing or being trounced in card games unless I pack. I'm taking home my Christmas lights. I packed them because I figured I would need them. Somehow, I've managed without getting them out of the box. Fancy that! I'm also bringing home some of my books. Who knew they had libraries in Australia? Sandwiched between hoodies and my red pea coat, I also have some secrets. Some of them are Christmas secrets, but some are just ordinary sparkly secrets.

There are plenty of things to do while you're being distracted from packing. Yesterday when I was trying to pack, I ended up working on a logic puzzle instead. There are packing play lists to be made, laundry to be folded, all kinds of interesting opportunities crop up when you're supposed to be packing. Normally I would go the Who Wants to Be a Millionaire route and phone a friend, but as SG and I are sharing the phone and the bill, that's not much of an option. Usually, I end up sitting on my bed, absent mindedly reading through my packing list while listening to the most recent escapades of my nearest and dearest.

Part of packing is deciding the future. I have to decide whether I'll have an occasion to wear my beige peep toe heels or my cowboy boots or my puffy vest. How much room do I need for Christmas presents? Will I be getting books, which don't take much room but can be heavy, or will I be getting gift cards, which are only as light as the things you buy? Will it be a warm Christmas? Last year I was sunning in my bathers in the backyard on Christmas Eve, but yesterday Mom said it was 23F when she woke up. Who's to say?

Eventually the ordeal will be over and I will be happily sleeping a drugged sleep aboard a big Australian airplane flying over many bathtubs of water. Until then, I'll be fighting my all or nothing tendencies which would have me packing either a backpack or two suitcases and two carryons.

Yours truly,

Little Miss Sunshine

and then I found $10

Really. I did, but I'll get to that part in a minute.  First there was lounging and reading about Martin Luther and the big, bad wolf and... maybe I should start at the beginning.

Tuesdays are our days off.  While we love the things we are working hard at, we also love days off.

I awoke at approximately 7:07, but did not make myself leave my bed until approximately 7:41.  Normal things happened like breakfast and then it was back to bed for some 1 John and Martin Luther biography (very interesting and biographies look good on resumes).  Not much happened between 8 and 11, except maybe I cleaned my room.

At 11, our friend Zoe picked us up and took us back to her house for a barbie (American - BBQ) with our other friend, Lisa.  I use these terms loosely, as they would be closer to the "friendly acquaintances" category. They have small children who happen to be cute and funny.  Two of these cute and funny children are girls who like to play little pigs and big bad wolf in the playhouse.  We took turns.  You should see my big bad wolf impression.

Lisa dropped us off at the library, and we did some errands around town before hiking up the hill towards home sweet home.  We were ambling and rambling, minding our own dear business when all of a sudden, WHAT HO!  A ten dollar note was lying right in our path.  It could have not been more obviously in the center of the sidewalk.  (Aussie - footpath)  A short trial was held on the ethics of the situation, and the area was inspected for a poor person dispossessed of said note.  Upon finding no one, the vote was unanimous, and the note was collected into the coffers of the author and SG.

We were ecstatic.  When's the last time you found ten dollars and circumstances under which you felt it ok to keep it?  Yeah. Exactly.  At the top of the hill, we met Kate and Nat for a Skype date, donned our bathers (American - swimsuits) and packed our bags.  The day could not have been more beautiful.

After dutifully slathering each other with sunscreen, we galloped screaming into the water, bent on having a swim.  It was delicious, and we returned to our towels to dry in the sun like grapes in Mexico before they become raisins (Aussie - sultanas).  A couple of hours set us right and we walked downtown in search of chicken salt, which was supposedly a common additive to chips (American - steak fries).  We found what we were looking for, burned our tongues on hot chips bought with three of our ten found dollars, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Today was a beaut (American - beauty) of a day too, as we ended up at the beach with Chez and some of the crew.  ANDANDAND.  Prepare yourself.

We found.

A STARFISH!

I was beside myself with glee.  I held it.  A starfish.  In my hand.

It was just there, swimming in the great ocean, well, not really swimming, more just sitting.


Much love to you,

LMS

A Grief Experienced

I don’t like being sad. It puts me in a bad mood and feels like a deep gray purple. Tonight on my walk home from work, the sun was setting and the breeze was just the right wind speed. Despite the beautiful night, I grieved. I grieved for the innocence lost this past week at "schoolies" (the post-graduation bingeing insanity that happens because the drinking age is 18). One of the kids at work said his friend spent hundreds at the strippers place in one night. I wanted to throw up.

I grieved for the children who will never feel the comfort of their mother's arms or the taste of ice cream or the feeling of being breathless after a game of backyard tag because their lives were ended as soon as they began. Last week in the news, a mother with twins was counseled to abort one of them after the doctors found serious handicaps. She chose to, only for the doctors to make a mistake and kill the healthy twin. Two lives lost because killing babies is legal.

I grieved for our host family, who lost their daughter two years ago to a rare disease and liver transplant failure. She was a wonderful, lively, adventurous wife, mother and daughter. What can assuage a parent's grief and the hardest pain they can endure? The life that they loved, they have lost. What remains is a hole filled with memories.

In this walk home, while I was almost overwhelmed with the brokenness of the world we live in, a whisper came. It said that our hearts can never be grieved more deeply than the heart of God. As sad, hurt and angry as we can feel, he feels more because he understands what should have been. He was there when he pronounced things "very good". He created the good and beautiful. He mourns the loss of innocence because he understands best of all what innocence is. He mourns the loss of life and relationship because he is the creator of life and relationships.

It is good to grieve these things. They are a reminder that the world is in desperate need of the Jesus born in a manger and killed on a cross.

LMS

10, 9, 8, 7...

Today was 10. Ten days until I'm back home. In ten days, our pastor, John, will drive us to the airport, we'll down one of those blue sleeping pills and wake up in the US of A. SG and I have made a paper chain with a link for each day until we're home. The only trouble is we put so much time and color into it, we couldn’t bring ourselves to tear off the links.

We're counting down in other ways. Only three more days at playgroup, one more Bible study, more Sunday at church with Ian and Ilma and George. As one of several last hurrahs, we're going to get chips tomorrow. I know, they're only steak fries, but we've been commissioned to try the mysterious Australian invention known as chicken salt. Maybe they're pulling our legs, but we think it's real, and supposedly it goes on chips.

Let me tell you, I love being in Australia. Waking up every morning and tip toeing downstairs and across the wooden floors to dish up some potatoes and onions or berry yogurt or whatever I'm having for breakfast is great. Playing with three year olds is great. Being a ten minute walk from the beach is great. But there is no way my love for Australia is going to diminish my excitement for coming HOME.

Home means mom's tacos, listening to SportsCenter twice in a morning, playing board games, going to the theater, brother snuggles, Zanna and Princess Punkin time, time at the church I love so much. I can't wait to be back in the desert. Sunsets over the ocean are pretty breathtaking, but I miss my desert explosions of gold and pink over the mountains.

I know the month home is going to fly by, with a side trip to Texas/Arkansas to see a couple friends, and catching up with people. I don't know what I can do to throw salt on it, that is, preserve it. Maybe sleep less and try not to read any books? I love reading, but reading can be done on planes and in Australias. Maybe stare at my family while I'm eating instead of looking at my plate. I want to soak up their faces, but I guess that would be a little creepy. Maybe I'll just stick to Liz's advice - just say yes. Yes to bowling, yes to lunch dates, yes to sand volleyball, yes to the movies. I might have to adopt a carefully calculated yes budget, but it can be done (that's why they made dollar theaters).

Xoxo

Little Miss Sunshine

Pre-quarter life crisis strikes again

I was going to say, guys, being 22 is harder than it looks, but then I felt a little ridiculous. No, I don't have a mortgage or five kids, or even a dog, but at least you're past the part of life where you had to make decisions about buying the house, having the kids or adopting the puppy. It's just work now. The decision is done, the commitment is made. I find I like my life better when the decision making is done. Sure, there's a certain thrill and element of intrigue added to your life when you're balancing a giant question mark on your head, but giant question marks get heavy.

Right now, I feel like I'm balancing ten question marks, one on top of the other. I'm not even sure if I'm supposed to have any of them on my head, which just adds an eleventh question. What do I need to have figured out right now? Should I continue taking grad school classes? Should I try to get certified for additional areas of teaching like 5th grade or gifted/talented? What kind of work makes me feel alive? How big of a factor should my personal desires be in the decisions I make? Should I just pack up my stuff and head to Africa to fulfill a corner of "go and make disciples"?

So. Many. Questions.

I want to do the right thing, but what's the right thing? A great thing about living in America, having a college degree and being a Sunshine is you have heaps of options. (Being a Sunshine just means you aren't too geographically limited and for some reason you believed your parents when they told you that you could be anything you wanted.) I could be an event coordinator, a children's minister, a teacher, a camp administrator, a waitress, a missionary… the list goes on with many variations.

In all those situations I could live out God's good news by loving him, loving people, and using my life as a Jesus sign post. Does it really matter what I choose to be? Would it be a waste to not use my college degree in the way it was intended? Would it be unwise to keep traveling and doing short term "fun" jobs because I eventually want to stay put somewhere and that has to start some time? Or should I travel and do "fun" jobs while I can?

This seems to me like an approach/approach conflict. (Thank you, Dr. W for making me pay attention in General Psychology.) All that means is you have to make a decision between two good things. Do I want brownies or do I want ice cream? Do I want a climbing Don Juan rose, or a star jasmine vine? Gouda or brie? Hereford or Jersey? Granny Smith or Pink Lady? You get the point.

I'm thinking tri-focals might be a good idea - a vision for the present, a vision for the near future (5-10 year range), and a vision for eternity. If I were some kind of inspirational speaker, this is the point in my rousing speech where I would launch into my point about goal making. I'm not some kind of inspirational speaker. I'm just a girl who's 22 who's trying to sort out what in the world she's doing with her life, or if she even needs to know.

Much love,

Little Miss Sunshine, who is trying to match her outputs with her inputs when it comes to life questions

The day I was daring and determined

With the way my morning began, I should have known it would be an extraordinary day.  By the time I swung my feet over the edge of the bed, threw on my running clothes, tied my shoes, and timidly opened the door to test the day's weather, it was about 7:00 in the morning.  Looking left and right and left and right, trying to decide which way I'd run today, I came back to the obvious - the ocean was on the right, why would you ever run left?

And so I ran right.  Not with all my might, or strength or speed, it was just a nice trotting sort of run down the street, across the road, to the ocean.  All of a sudden, it seized me.  It [the magnetic desire for the sea] generally does when I run near the ocean, but this time it got the best of me and I found myself loping across the road and down towards the beach.  There was no going back now.  I jogged up and back on the beach, unlaced my shoes, tucked my ipod in with my socks, shed an appropriate amount of clothing, took a running start and

PLUNGED

into the ocean.

Headfirst, committed, kicking, swimming.  Oh, it was grand.  The sky with her newly born sun, the sea spread out to the skyline of the city and faraway Geelong.  There was, of course, some accompanying awkwardness.  This great feat of daring probably looked a little foolish because I ran, I plunged and swam, but then I stood up with the water nearly to my waist... Then I did some more running and thought about old people and water aerobics, and swimming.  Once I was out in the deep blue sea, I didn't really know what to do.  I'd never been there before.  So I floated.  I tread water and did spins.  I swam and kicked and watched the dogs walking their humans on the shore.

I swam back after a bit and did some squats - what a strange word.  Somehow squats are more dignified and elitist if you're doing them with your toes in the ocean.  After a few of those, I slid into Warrior II and looked mightily down the beach.  When I'd finished and squeezed some of the saltwater out of my dripping ponytail, I decided it was time to come back to reality and figure out how I was getting out of here.

If you remember, I came down to the beach in my running shoes, my fabulous yellow and gray nike lunar flys.  I wasn't about to put those sandy, wet feet back in my shoes.  So I carried them.  I picked my way through the underbrush along the path, I stepped over the orange tape that marked the beginning of the path reconstruction, I tiptoed up the bulldozed path, and ran back through grassy front yards to the house.

That afternoon, I realized what the Warrior II, the slightly post-sunrise swim, and the barefoot trek had prepared me for.  It's something called the government runaround.  It happens in all countries, is intended by no politician or plebeian, it just happens.  I went to the Post Office intent on filing my background check for working with children.  I thought I had all the necessary paperwork...things are never that easy.  I was sent to the bank to print off a bank statement.  Back to the Post, too bad the address is a PO box, it must be a residential address.  But I was determined.  How could I back down now?  I felt it would be doing a disservice to the Founding Fathers to give up.  Back to the bank, change the account address, print and sign.  Back to the Post, acceptable at last.  Filed, stamped, receipt-ed.

In the middle of all of this running around, awkward thing number 23498237478945623948723498 happened.  There I was, standing in line at the bank.  No one is talking but the tellers.  Nondescript pop-ish music is playing, and there are ads about loans and saving on the walls.  Standing in front of me is a rather dilapidated soul with an out of hand offspring intent on wreaking mischief.  Why the woman was carrying both pairs of their shoes in her hand escapes me, but it gives you a little insight into the eccentric nature of the situation.  Abruptly, the woman pulls the earphones out of her ears and turns to me.  That's fine, I can handle stranger small talk.  Too bad this wasn't small talk.  In fact, it was pretty big talk.  She starts off with - so say your boyfriend that you've been with for two years breaks up with you and after a week, he's with another woman but I still want to talk things through with him.

WHAT?!

Maybe I should be flattered that out of all the people in town, she felt the girl standing behind her wearing the Hope for Africa t-shirt would be the best option for an impromptu counseling session.  So she asked for my advice.  Repeatedly.  I'll confess, I wasn't prepared to give a dissertation on why Jesus can fulfill all your needs, and a few ambiguous statements trickled out instead.  Well, maybe he wasn't worth being with?  How quickly can people change?  You just cry a lot and spend time with your close friends and move on.

After each of these bewildered attempts at addressing the situation, she'd nod and mmmm.  Finally, it was her turn at the teller's desk, so she walked away, shoes in hand, and I went to talk with Jill, who printed off my bank statement [the first attempt].  My life is so weird.  Grimace.


Love to you, wherever you are,

Little Miss Sunshine

  

Dreams of sharpened crayons

There would be indoors and outdoors and plenty of dirt and costumes and easels and books and hats and masks.  Of course, we would need a kitchen and places to hang timelines and display prints of famous people and places and artwork.  There would be plenty of magnets, of course, and rulers and food coloring and weights and measures.  We could probably fit a stage in the corner, close to the piano and the guitar stand.  I'm just not sure what we would do about desks.

Oh, dreams of a classroom.  We'd be reciting poetry, growing herbs, experimenting with physics, and of course, learning logic.  I know they're only in third grade, but what else would you have them doing?  Using worksheets?  When so many of them learn through seeing, hearing, touching?  Believe me when I say there are children who have never smelled fresh basil and wouldn't know a petunia from a parsnip.  

My dream classroom would be a crossroads for scholars, where writers could write, readers could read, statesmen could study the Declaration of Independence, and singer/songwriters could pick up a guitar for the first time.  It would be a place of order, no doubt about that.  No one can learn in chaos, but mud, finger painting, mad scrambles and baby chickens don't always mean chaos.

Some would say we must choose between teaching students to reason and problem solve and teaching them about Columbus in 1492 and William in 1066.  That's a lot of rubbish.  It's like saying you have to choose between peanut butter and jelly when everyone knows that you need both for a sandwich.  We'll have our peanut butter and our jelly, thank you very much, except maybe we'll do peanut free peanut butter in case of allergies.

Hum.  All that's left to do is find a job and get to sewing my curtains and building a theater stage and... someday I will have a classroom outfitted for greatness.  Until then, I'll be editing my resume and looking at salary schedules and wondering if I'll ever be a teacher at all.  It seems so unattainable, to be an adult with a job that I studied four years for.  How did it come to this?  How have I survived public bathrooms, crossing streets and fast food restaurants unscathed?  I don't know, except that maybe the children that I'm praying for even now will one day walk in that door and I will be given the gift of teaching them.  

Love,
LMS

The awkward things that will happen to you

Dear Reader,

There are things that will happen to you. I don't mean to alarm you, but unless you are the prima ballerina for the Russian Ballet, you will probably have awkward things spill into your lap and stain your dress pants. That should ease your apprehensions a little, knowing that these madcaps are common to the general populace. In fact, you've probably already experienced some or all of these. Hopefully, you have the presence of mind and mastery of wit to turn them into fantastic moments of comedy, after which you can bow and sign autographs. And now, for the list, not in any particular order.

1. Losing your skirt/shorts in public.

For an instant, you feel that free as a toddler in a backyard wading pool feeling. Quickly enough, that happy ancient memory is replaced by the sinking of the stomach in the realization that you have lost your skirt. Whether it's been tucked into your undies after a bathroom break or you happened to be running across campus and the elastic wasn't in as great of shape as you thought, you've managed to make a spectacle of yourself. This is unfortunate, but probably won't ruin your career unless you're a politician or you happen to have national secrets tattooed to your upper hamstring.

2. Spilling things.

Considering that you spend most of your first years doing this, it's remarkable that you even expect to go through adulthood without doing it. Sometimes it happens on airplanes, which is OK unless you're sandwiched between people who are asleep. Sometimes it happens in restaurants. If you're wearing white and you think it's a good idea to order spaghetti because it's cheap, just remember what it will cost you in stain remover to get that sauce out. You might not even be the clumsy one, but watch out for waitresses. Most of them are masters of balance, but there is the occasional clutz.

3. People who are bad at having normal conversations.

You know these people, you might even be one yourself. They just aren't great at making small talk. Their sense of timing is slightly left of true North, or they feel frustratingly ingenuine if they talk about things besides politics and economics or the latest development in technology. Having conversations with these people is not for the faint of heart, but someone has got to take the time to model normalcy for these poor unfortunate souls.

4. Dodging strangers.

This happens to me a lot. I'm in an airport or a busy store or on the sidewalk and someone is walking towards me. Somehow, in a moment of body language illiteracy, I dodge the wrong way, right myself, and then walk to the other side, but by then they've readjusted and we look like we're doing some tribal jungle dance in the middle of the street trying to get around each other.

5. Kissing.

It is likely that you know this just from watching romantic comedies. I don't fully endorse watching them, but I have been known to indulge now and then. There can be lots of potentially awkward things about kissing, but one of the notable ones is noses. It's important to tilt the right direction or else you're going to knock noses and the romantic sentimentality of the moment will be thwarted. It's also important not to go smushing people's noses so they can't breathe. Be considerate. Try to do some thinking while your heart is racing and your eyes are sparkling.

6. Being a third party to an untimely comment.

Sometimes watching the awkwardness is just as bad or worse as being involved in it yourself. For example, if you're talking with two people and one person says something dreadful like, "People with green ears are imbeciles. I don't know how they function without a brain." without knowing that the other person has green ears. Oh dear. You are privy to information that not everyone has. There's nothing you can say to undo the comment, so the best thing is usually to steer the conversation to something pleasant like spice cake or cows.

7. Receiving Tiffany rings and giving Target ones.

In the spirit of Christmas, my last example of awkward situations you will find yourself in is the realm of gift giving. You have friends (I hope) and each of these friends has a different idea about gifts. Some love to give gifts at any and all occasions, while others aren't into gifting. You, by logical reasoning, fall somewhere in between these two spectrum ends. Awkward things can happen when friends live at different ends of the spectrum. You might meet a friend to exchange Christmas gifts and you're handed a Tiffany blue box a fabulous ring in it, but all you have to give is the Target one you found last week on sale. Not good, folks, not good.

This post is dedicated to the girl who walked in front of me this afternoon, whose awkward story can be found in my previous post.

LMS

Identities, library adventures and walkward moments...

Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror and think "Um, who are you, and what are you doing in my mirror space?!" Maybe it's just where I am in life and in the world, but sometimes I just feel like a million different people.

Today my outfit consists of Adidas socks, tennis shoes, jeans (that are wet on the cuffs because the weather is abominably contrary and wet), my OBU intramural softball t-shirt, a side ponytail and a trucker hat that is sitting on my head crooked and backwards, oh and my nails are currently Sally Hansen "#250 Lightening". Then there's my slightly hipster slouchy cardi with big dramatic sunglasses look, my tropical wear bold prints and Costa Rican earrings from Liz look, and the black sundress with the narrow belt and pearls look. I also have my outdoorsy hiker chic in Chacos and diva in heels and wide leg trouser looks. I mean… WHAT? Who do you think you are?

It doesn’t stop there. Oh no. Even with my friends I'm different people. My best friend, Zanna, told me once that I'm a chameleon, and I just adapt to whoever I'm with. If I'm with the ranch cousins, I'm Cowgirl Sunshine. If I'm with the Compass crew, I'm Outdoor Sunshine. If it's Han - Dance Party Sunshine, Liz - Change the World Sunshine, SG - Tea and Scones Sunshine, Katie - Theatrical Sunshine, Rach - Coffee Time Chat Sunshine, Chez - Slightly Hippie Spontaneous Sunshine, Princess Punkin - Politics and Fashion Sunshine… you'd think I was Barbie or Baskin Robins ice cream or something.

Granted, there are some things that don't change. I'll tell you I love Jesus and cows and dancing whether I'm in a little black dress or having a mud war… but do I need to get a life? Are there rules about these things? Once again, I'm playing in the adult league and no one has handed me the rule book! Maybe that should be my next writing project if one doesn't exist already - writing a rule book for surviving in the real world.

Today I went to the library with SG. We love the library. It's our second home. I went to get a book and SG went to study. Now, when I say get a book it sounds simple. There are books everywhere, so you should just be able to pick one off the shelf and walk out the door. Mission accomplished. As it turns out, it's such a difficult task! After you've read the likes of Lewis and Lenski and Dickens and Austen, there's no shortage of high standards. I want a book that will woo me, bring me flowers, tell me the truth and be so enthralling that I hate it for making me want to spend all my time with it.

I wandered through the aisles aimlessly, reading the back of a book here, checking the title of a classic there, and always looking for cool covers. I'm such a sucker for cover designs. I have a hard time reading a book if I don't like the cover. Just as soon as I'd find an interesting one, I'd find that it was about some person having an affair or being abused by someone or something. Can I just have a good novel without all the gory sex details please and thank you? I walked home with a 400 page biography of Martin Luther. I'm not entirely satisfied, but it's won awards, so we'll see how we go.

On my walk home, one of those awkward things in life happened. You know how there's an unwritten list of awkward things in life? Well, this is one of them. I was walking up the hill and a girl crossed from the other side of the street to my side, walking the same direction as me. Our paces aligned and I was walking a couple yards behind her. AWKWARD WALKWARD! What are you supposed to do? Just walk slower? Walk faster and pass her? Walk faster and then slow down when you get to beside her and strike up a conversation about why she's carrying yellow wrapping paper? Being ambitious and competitive, I went for option 2… AND FAILED! I sped up to the point where we were walking beside each other, but then she sped up a little and the hill was getting steeper by the stride, so I relinquished my lead and fell back, turning to option 1. Ohhhhh awkward things in life. I think I'll write a blog post about that.

Much love,

LMS