:: sweet tea in a mason jar

i have the travel itch. that desire- you just can't shake- to hop into your car and drive till you reach a place that looks good to stop. an adventure, you might say. but a simple one.

the summer before my senior year of highschool, and the 2 summer's that followed graduation, i was part of a theater group. we traveled all over the country- setting up shop on street corners, in parks, at youth camps, in schools. it tended to be a bit stressful on the political side of things-- but i adored the traveling! growing up, my family took a few special vacations, but i had never been too far outside of the mid-west. i relished the opportunity to see so many landmarks and states. i am forever thankful for those experiences.

my most favorite memories of those traveling days, include my time spent in the south. it's no cliche that the atmosphere and people are so genuinely kind there. the town of Dunn, North Carolina was the first stop on our tour, one summer. we spent two glorious weeks there. and the charming place could easily be taken from a film. every house has a whitewashed wrap-around porch-- sporting randomly placed rocking chairs. townsfolk on bicycles troll on by with a jingle of their handle-bar bell, and a "good afternoon to ya!". the hoppin' restaurant is a little diner called Roy's (where you'll be pleased to find the best candied yams and green beans-- on earth!). a trip to wal-mart occurs about twice a day. and sweet tea is constantly being brewed and served to you in mason jars. no one locks their doors. neighbors come and go freely. people give incessantly. the sun perpetually shines. i think of this place often.

and perhaps, it's where i want to be now. i can only imagine this magical little town in the fall. crisp leaves blowing through the streets. gigantic orange pumpkins lining the stairs of the houses. the sweet smell of apple pie filling the yards where children still play till the street lights come on.

oh! Dunn. to be drinking tea from your mason jars. to be rocking on your porches in a thick sweater. to be basking in your simplicity and charm, once again.

:: the same two girls

when you're growing up, if you have the good fortune of an innocent childhood, one is usually naive to the struggles of this world. all of existence is cereal bowls. and cartoons. and chocolate milk. and forts. and climbing trees. and hide-and-seek. and sitting on someones lap with a story book. and songs at bedtime.

as you mature into young adulthood, one becomes vaguely aware of the sincere un-good that surrounds parts of humanity. but, rarely, of course, how it directly effects you::: "bad people are out there. wars happen. hungry children are on commercials. but me...i'm fine. and always will be." it's that invincible mindset of a teenager. nothing can happen to me.

then you become an adult. you're a grown-up. and you no longer have the option to be naive. to turn a blind eye. to believe that you are exempt. because it happens to you. life happens. to your family. your friends. sometimes, in ways you wish it wouldn't.

when i was 7 i met my friends megan, courtney and abbey. they were three sisters with a fourth on the way. our families became fabulous friends. and the vast majority of my childhood and adolescent memories include the adventures we had together. in the end, we were all sisters. family. not because we had to be. but because we wanted to be.

together, we've endured all of life's major occurrences. deaths. births. weddings. graduations. new boyfriends. new houses. new pets. new jobs. college classes. you name it--it's happened-- and we're better because of it.

when megan met nick in highschool, subsequently got married, and then had 4 fabulously adorable boys-- i never imagined i'd be standing alongside them on the path they're on now. several weeks ago, nick joined the army. i spent the evening with megan and the boys yesterday, and it was almost surreal as we sat there, sans nick, and planned the trip down to missouri for his boot camp graduation. i had to sit back for a moment and take it all in. examine it. wasn't it just yesterday that we all sat at this very table. in this very house. playing euchre and eating pizza after the highschool winter dance? now, with four sleeping fireballs in the next room, we're face-to-face with the harrowing reality that nick could be deployed. sent to afghanistan. what a concept to wrap your mind around.

this is what it means to be a grown-up. to make your way in this world. there are new decisions. new roles. new responsibilities. new worries. a new view. it's a new perspective that forces you to realize how easy it is to loose your innocence.

but then there are moments. like last night. when you're eating jalapeno kettle chips. and watching anderson cooper. and laughing till you're crying. that you're still the same two young girls you were 10 years ago. and you're so so happy that, no matter what you have to endure, you get to endure it together.

{megan's boys}

:::pen-ultimate summer night

ever since i took my bio & organic chemistry class, i can't hear or utilize the word 'ultimate' without thinking of the pen-ultimate carbon atom found in glucose molecules.
and while i realize that this makes me sound extremely nerd-ish, i am unashamed. it's just one of those word cues that has stuck with me. so in my attempt to gather words to explain my fun evening, i stumbled across 'ultimate' in my vocabulary-- which of course, led to the train of thought mentioned above.

last night was a pen-ultimate summer night.

i began the evening by spending a few hours with my grandpa. he is your stereo typical ornery old man. he hates the government. and doctors. and kids in the neighborhood. and laws. he surprised me yesterday, however, by being in disarmingly good spirits. laughing. joking. smiling. eating. perhaps the years are wearing him down.

after dinner and conversation, i ran to my friends house to let her dogs out, change and pick up sandhya. (she has a rare weekend off for the holiday, and we intend on taking FULL advantage.) we were both craving bubble tea. (if you have never heard of it. you should. and soon!) the only really really good place to get said tea is in ann arbor. college town. home of the university of michigan. so we loaded up my durango and headed out. when we arrived, we realized we were hungry, so we wandered around looking for an open establishment. we came across a place called "charlies", that had big windows, an outdoor cantina, and music playing. when we got inside, the place was alive---peppered with students of all ages and backgrounds. we tucked ourselves away into a corner booth, ordered burgers and hummus, and drank iced tea out of h.u.g.e mason jars. the night wore on and we talked and talked. eventually, we made our way down the street to get bubble tea. the sidewalks were littered with people soaking up with awesome night. everyone said hi. shook your hand. once we reached bubble island, we retrieved our cups of goodness, grabbed a table and took turns reading pages of the new issue of Glamour magazine to each other. more laughter. more conversation.

we drove home with perm-a-grins. what a fantastic summer night.

a pen-ultimate night-- indeed.

: m.j. favorites :

i wonder--in 40 years, when i am older. grayer. when i have grandchildren. i wonder if they will ask me if i remember michael jackson. the same way i asked my grandparents if they remembered the beatles. and when jfk was shot. and ameila earhart. i wonder if they will love mj's music as much as i did. if their childhood memories will be scattered with bits of his tunes. if they'll moonwalk. and dance to thriller. and sing 'beat it' at the top of their lungs in the back of a field trip van. or if they'll still be listening to the Jackson 5 christmas album. if they'll know what people mean when they talk about 'the white glove'. if they'll remember their friends screaming anytime they heard one of his songs.
it's crazy to think that michael jackson will be 'the past'. in history books. his music has always been my present. what a weird realization to know that one day, you'll be the one telling a story about where you were when you found out the legendary icon- michael jackson- died.
i am thankful for what he has brought to the music world. may his undeniable creative genius live on.

::m.j. must haves::

man in the mirror

beat it

thriller

dirty diana

ABC

p.y.t. (pretty young thing)

billie jean

i want you back

rock with you

the way you make me feel

smooth criminal

i'll be there

bad

black & white

i saw mommy kissing santa claus

don't stop till you get enough

will you be there (free willy theme song)
**my favorite as a child**

::: age & time

when i was in the 2nd grade, i had an 8th grade buddy named debbi. debbi was every young girls idea of a hero. she had this head full of gorgeous, naturally wavy hair. she had the most trendy outfits. dated the most athletic and funny guy in her class. looked amazing in every picture. dominated on the volleyball court. rocked the top of the honor roll. spear-headed the "city beautiful" project. if it was out there- debbi did it- and she did it well. i wanted to be just like her.

i can recall with intense clarity the thrill i would get when i would enter the heavy red doors of my school, and see a piece of loose leaf paper- folded about 30 times into a tiny square - sticking out of the slits in my locker. a note from debbi. as my assigned "buddy", she took to regularly writing me letters. and i loved it. i would run into the classroom, whip out my notebook, pour over every word debbi had written me in her perfect script, and immediately begin a letter back to her. i loved that she always filled an entire page, and would then continue on with a "p.s". it made me feel important that she needed to tell me something more. to my 8 year old mind, debbi was an adult. at least 25. perhaps 30. she was the epitome of maturity. elegance. womanhood. and she flat-out rocked.

debbi graduated into high school that year. she left me her eight grade picture and one final note in my locker on the last day of school. and i never heard from her again. occasionally, i would see her picture in the paper (she continued to shine in high school), or i would hear about her through people at the school, or from her church. i had saved all her letters in a wooden box under my bed, but beyond that, i never really thought about her.

years later, when i graduated high school, i took on an active role as a leader in the youth group at my church. i loved hanging out and talking to the students. i loved listening to them. goofing off with them. remembering the very real fear and concerns of a 13 year old was humbling. it was during this time, when i was talking to a girl that was about to be a freshman in high school, that i thought about debbi again. this little girl was the same age as debbi when i knew her. i just stared at her. examined her eyes. listened to the animation in her voice. watched the way her ponytail flipped with every "and...like....totally", and i laughed in spite of myself.

this was debbi. my whole life came into perspective. at 18, i looked back into the 2nd grade and realized that my role model at the time was a 13 year old girl. with no idea who she was or where she was going. loving her life in the best way a little girl on the brink of adolescence could. in my mind, deb was going home every day after school to her husband, three kids and poodle. obviously driving herself in a convertible- wearing very stylish sunglasses while doing so. she was so adult. so grown up. it never occurred to me that her mom picked her up from school like mine did. or that she probably went home and watched Full House and slept with a teddy bear. i had no concept of age. or time. all i knew was i was 8. and i was me. and debbi was WAY older. in actuality, debbi was maybe 5 years my senior.

i shared this story with the young girl i was talking to. i told her she was someones debbi. told her to realize how much life she really had before her. but also- how fast it would fly by. i reminded her to keep all things in perspective. to dream. to make good choices. to give back. to look inside herself and figure out who she really was. and live it. because- no matter how young you are- there is someone younger. and they are always watching.

"city beautiful" June 3, 2009

a few days ago, i was driving home from a sushi lunch and i saw this sidewalk art. it's a contribution from the 2008 city beautiful committee. and i once more thought of debbi. but not so much of her personally- but more of what she means in my life now. she is the representation of perspective. the realization and concept of age and time. today i feel grown. i feel like i am who i will be for the rest of my life. but i know i am not. in ten years, i will look back and think "wow- i could never have imagined being here". much the same as i will tens years after that. much the same as i look back now into my teens and childhood.

there was one night, when i was 10 years old, that i laid on the floor in my bedroom and begged myself to remember the moment. i wanted to remember being 10 forever. i stared at the ceiling and felt grown. i felt like i was who i would be for the rest of my life. i couldn't imagine driving. working. graduating. being in love. i remember wondering what it would feel like to be 20. now, 20 has long passed- and today, i wonder what it will be like to be 30. and 40.

because now i realize that i am very far from arriving. and that, like debbi, i am so young. and have so much more life to go.

:: that's what I love about Sunday ::

Growing up, Sundays were always a routine high point in my week. It was an absolute given that we would wake up in the morning, get ready in a rush, eat warm bagels from The Bagel Stop in the car, and spend a few hours at church. When the service was over, my family and our friends would pile into each others cars, and head to a nearby restaurant for lunch. The afternoon would be spent laughing, planning and filling our faces with awesome food. If it was exceptionally beautiful outside, and we were lucky, the adults would get inspired enough to take all of us kids to the park or zoo or putt-putt golf. We'd drive home in the early evening and all crash on the couch in our Sunday best. I don't have a bad childhood memory: but these fun-filled, yet laid back, Sundays are a favorite--and always bring a smile to my face when I think back upon them.

I think these facts from my past are what contribute to my continued love of Sundays. It's almost like Sundays are magical. Its an elusive day: starting the week off fresh and new on some calendars; and holding up the end of the week on others. It doesn't quite seem like the weekend--yet a lot of people are still off work, so it doesn't seem like a weekday either. There's no mail delivered. There's no regular morning talk shows. Stores are closed early, if they're opened at all. Even in this crazy, fast-paced world we all live in, we've managed to maintain a sliver of the glorious peacefulness of Sunday. It's our choice whether or not we choose to personally indulge in it.

As a nurse, I have to work 2 Sundays per month, but the midnight shift allows me to hang on to my beautiful Sunday mornings. I still get great pleasure out of waking up, pouring coffee, going to church, and enjoying the afternoon in whichever way I see fit.

This lead me to be instantly inspired by one of today's Decor8 posts entitled: 'Sunday Suppers'.
When the post appeared in my Google Reader window, I was mesmerized. Look at a few of these awesome images:::





Aren't these tables you would just flip to be seated at each Sunday afternoon? Surrounded by gorgeous displays and great company? It's my grown-up Sunday dream:: completely inspired by my childhood full of tables covered in kids menus and crayons. dolls and books. mac and cheese and chicken fingers. moms and dads cutting up pieces and laughing at each others jokes. kids convincing servers we really could have an additional glass of chocolate milk. tables full of life and love.

oh what beautiful things Sundays can hold.

What are your favorite Sunday plans? think about it. share it. DO IT!

::: a great adventure

For all the ways my mom and I are alike, there are 100 ways we are different:::

My mom doesn't like to read.
She hates TV and movies.
She despises buying something unless its on sale.
She rarely makes the first move to foster a relationship.
She was married fresh out of high school.
She never went to college.
She is a hopeless romantic.
She often holds onto anger just a little longer than she should.
She hates coffee.
She doesn't travel.
She is disinterested in politics.
She likes very few modern pieces of design or fashion.
She won't make the call to order takeout.
She doesn't like pizza, sushi, or Indian food.

Our differences, combined with our likenesses (stubbornness; occasional moodiness) and my fierce independence, often put us at odds. It frustrates me that we have so little in common, and in addition, so little common ground. By the time my mother was my age, she had already been married for 6 years, had one child, and was pregnant with another. I spent 5 years in college, have worked steadily since I was 16, lived away from home, traveled all over the country, and am now secure in my career.

Many people wonder how I became so different from my mother. And to be honest, I am not quite sure. I can remember being about 10, sitting in the backseat of the car, praying that I would grow up and be different than my mom. She wasn't outgoing or adventurous---two things I most definitely was and wanted to continue to be. I was afraid I would grow up and loose those things....get lost in the shell of someone I didn't relate to.

But as I grow up, I realize, for all my knowledge and friendships and experiences and adventures, I will probably never be a mother as good as my own. In her own way, she showed the ultimate act of selflessness::: she allowed me to be her greatest adventure, knowing it would be her only one. She gave up her years of carefree freedom to foster and love two little girls: to give them security, and joy and decades full of happy memories.

I am not that person::: and a part of me will always be striving to meet that mark.

While I blaze my own trail, and do many things my mom has never done, or would never want to do, a part of me will always be searching for at least a few of her footprints to follow.

Happy Mother's Day...