3 . . .

So, I knocked some things off of my to-do list yesterday.

I still need to get some souvenirs/gifts to give to people who will be hosting me. I would like to get something representative of American culture somehow. My mom suggested calendars featuring US landmarks. Not a bad idea. Any other suggestions out there?

I have a love/hate relationship with change. (Barack Obama notwithstanding.) Change can't win with me. When things are surrounded by an inevitable, stolid system of never changing, I become shrouded in melancholic ennui and frustrated because things are so stubborn and backwards. But when things are bustling about and changing to the tune of microwaved popcorn kernels, I get bathed in melancholic nostalgia and mourn the loss of the way things used to be.

There's also a third, neurotic reaction I have to change which departs from the love/hate dichotomy and simply involves good old fashioned freaking out. Most of the time, though, the freak out gets mixed with the melancholia and I alternate between sighing and hyperventilating.

It's going to be fine, I know. I just like making fun of myself and my figmental quandaries of philosophical crisis. There's a nugget of knowing beneath the alternating lasagna layers of excitement and apprehension. And it is that I know God's hand is in this.

I've told the story before . . . due to irrational reasons (what an oxymoron!), I sat on the scholarship application. I came to my senses the day it was due and was still encouraged to apply. I somehow rustled up letters of recommendation in the dead of summer and eventually managed to become one of 4 winners out of 11 applicants.

I know there are some bearded unbelievers out there chalking it up to odds. But I know where I was when I embarked on this thing. I did it on a whim, a last ditch ploy to fleece the Almighty. I had created a set of circumstances where I'd be hard-pressed to get it together. So, if it somehow came together, despite my reluctance, despite my Hamlet-like inaction, despite my absurd reasoning, despite, even, my lack of faith and trust, then maybe He seriously wants me to do this for some reason. And . . . voilà. Nous sommes ici. Here we are.

Do you know people who get a tech gadget they're unfamiliar with, it's been a year since they got it as a gift (last Christmas) and haven't used it a single day in their lives, but when someone else who is familiar with it would like to borrow it, suddenly they "might need it" in the indeterminate future? My dad. Digital video camera.

Next item on to-do list: Sweet talk my dad into letting me bring along his camera so I can upload clips of my French experience.

5 . . .

Oui, the countdown's getting slim.

The realization of what is about to happen in less than a week is slowly seeping into my consciousness.

Christmas was lovely, by the way. The 5 of us are rarely together for an extended amount of time. It was great to be with family, to go back in time a little and act completely silly with my brothers. I would post a few pictures, but the majority of them are of my brothers and myself making extremely unattractive faces.

How do you pack for 6 months?

I've done something similar before. I spent 4 months in Spain in 2004. It's not like I have no idea of what to expect.

The difference is that now they charge craziness for checking bags (additional flight restrictions notwithstanding due to moronic madmen trying to blow stuff up recently), I'll be in France for longer than I was in Spain, and this time I'm learning French. Oh, and whereas my Spanish then was decent, my French presently sucks.

You're going to France? But I thought you spoke Spanish. Then I end up explaining the requirements of my Master's program and my subsequent academic decisions, ending up sounding more smartypants than I'd intended.

You just can't stay still for long, can you? Always going somewhere, aren't you? Why do I detect a hint of antagonism in those (rhetorical) questions? Why do they put me on the defensive?

Here begins my week of workless countdown. It must be filled with bustling and preparation. To do:

1. Write thank you cards to all of my friends and family who hosted me in their homes during my recent trip and who have given me gifts towards my upcoming trip.

2. Buy relaxer kits to last me for 6 months. There ain't no Soft and Beautiful "regulars" in Tours, France. There ain't no "ethnic hair care" section in Carrefour. With all the black folks in Paris, I'd probably have better hair luck there, but I'm not going to be in Paris and, let's be real, I'm going to Europe.

3. Read the entire Rotary Handbook again just to make sure I understand my responsibilities.

4. Print out extra copies of all the forms I need.

5. Design a PowerPoint presentation to share my Southern American culture with the French Rotarians. (Gulp!)

6. Take these overdue books back to the library.

7. Start packing (which probably won't happen until Saturday night.)

Let's go.

Christmas Eve

Christmas is tomorrow, and I leave for France in a little over a week.

None of it seems true. It doesn't feel like Christmas is tomorrow, and it doesn't feel like I'm leaving the country for 6 months in such a short amount of time.

I still don't know what to get for my dad. He is like the worst person to shop for. He never wants anything and I never have any idea of what to get him yet I still have this need to get him something.

I should be more excited. I should have special feelings swirling around me like bubbles or raining down on me like confetti or sprinkled on me like fairy dust. Like I said, Christmas is tomorrow and I leave for France in a little over a week. That sentence should end with a breathless exclamation point, not a smug, declaratory period.

Dare I don my Santa Claus hat to brave the hordes of last-minute shoppers? If I'm planning on doing any shopping today, I better dust myself off and get to it now instead of languishing in my melancholy space-world of bloggery. Things close early today, and my chances of finding a good parking spot anywhere look about as good as the possibility of my smashing into the man of my dreams in my Christmas Eve haste, shopping bags flying everywhere, and having him gallantly pick them up for me, offer me his arm, and escort me to my car.

My hair looks all right, but my face looks like Bruno's Pizzeria that I bought my cheesesteak from earlier this week. I say I like looking younger, but can I get 'youthful' without going all the way back to 'pubescent'?

Yeah. I'd better get to it. I have a pound cake to whip up (my claim to culinary fame) and my annual breakfast casserole to put together for our little post-present opening Christmas brunch. Imma get it together.

May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be right.

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas everyone!

NY and Philly: List

1. My grandfather calls dessert "tie down."

2. It's hard not to look like a tourist in Chinatown.

3. The first thing I ate in Philly was a Philly cheesesteak. You can't go to Philly without getting a Philly cheesesteak.

4. Snow!

5. I had a crush on my cousin when I was 6. He was 13. I wrote him a letter declaring my affections. I didn't know any better. I finally saw him again. As I hugged him, I couldn't help but think of my smitten 6-year-old heart.

6. Pete and Repeat were on top of the Empire State Building. Pete fell off, who was left? (Repeat.) Pete and Repeat were on top of the Empire State Building. Pete fell off, who was left? (Repeat.) Pete and Repeat . . . okay. I was on top of the Empire State Building. I got a great view, but thankfully, didn't fall off like Pete.

7. A Moroccan friend I met at a church in Spain met up with me in NY. She told me the story of her conversion, and I sat, ashamed of my tears in the middle of Starbucks, ashamed that I dare to complain.

8. As I beheld the golden statue in the Rockefeller Plaza, I looked around for Mr. Donaghy, Liz Lemon and Kenneth the Page, but couldn't find them.

9. When I was in Central Park, I expected some kind of serendipitous meeting with the man of my dreams while he was walking his dog, but . . . that didn't pan out either.

10. I was so enthralled with a stringed instrument a man was playing at Grand Central Station. It was mesmerizing. I didn't want to go away. I bought his CD and discovered that it was a dulcimer.

11. We went to Wall Street, hoping to get glimpses of moneyed businessmen on their way home from work. Er, not so much. We forgot it was Saturday.

12. All of my little 2nd cousins are ridiculously cute. It gives me hope for the attractiveness of my future progeny.

13. Times Square at night. What else needs to be said?

14. Walking on the Brooklyn Bridge = awesome view. Walking on the Brooklyn Bridge in the snow = c-c-c-c-old!

15. I would have run up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art and shouted "Adrian!" once I got to the top, but they were covered in snow.

Of course, there's much, much more. But how about a selection of pictures?

NY and Philly

1. Today was my last day of work. I had to turn in all of my keys and even my student ID. It was sad. Final.

2. I hung out with a balding, bearded buddy of mine after work. (Like that alliteration?) He's the best and I'm going to miss him and his family.

3. I'm getting a bit more money leftover from my scholarship than I thought. Sweet. I'm still having to hit up Pops, but for less than I anticipated.

4. I have one more trip planned before I fly across the Atlantic, and that is a weekend in NY to see some friends and a couple of days in Philadelphia to see family I haven't seen in a ridiculous amount of time. Honestly, when I first realized what my financial situation was concerning France, I regretted making these plans, but it was too late to do anything about it. But then I thought some more and realized that even if I hadn't made these plans, I would still be in the position of having to hit up Pops, and it's a good thing I'm going to see my extended family. It's been way too long.

5. I'm leaving tomorrow morning (today, technically) so my little blog baby snookums is going to take a little nap for a while. Pictures and tales of adventure to come!

One for the Annals

When I went to UA in Tuscaloosa and anything "historic" would go down, a friend of mine would say that it would go down in the Annals of Tusky-tusky. I cannot even write this without laughing.

Well, yesterday I went to Birmingham and my friend and I went to a nice place for lunch. It might've been the last time we see each other before I go to France, but we weren't going to think about thinking about that.

She (and others) always accuse me of flirting with the waiter. I promise that I don't go in there with intentions of trying to catch the waiter's eye. I mean, please. The waiter wasn't even particularly attractive. But I will admit that maybe I do get a little giggly and fidgety when there's a man bustling about me. (Is that really flirting, though?) And simple things like, "Is there anything else I can do for you?" always drip with double entendre when you're sitting with a funny friend.

We both wanted creme brulee for dessert even though it wasn't on the menu. My friend outrightly asked for it. He said it was available, but just to be sure, I said that it wasn't on the menu so I thought they didn't have any. He assured me that they did have it available. My friend then accused me of trying to seduce him into saying they didn't have it so that I could then seduce him into getting it. Whatever. When he brought it out, he said, "Is this what you were looking for?" as he set it in front of me. That was him, not me.

But here's the event which shall go down in the Annals: We were fighting over the bill. She refused to let me take it. She told him to split it, I told him to put it on mine, and I looked at him and said, "Listen to me." She mean mugged him. When he brought out two little bill holder things, we both thought she had prevailed. But when she opened hers, it was empty, and when I opened mine, I had it! He tricked us! Victory was indeed mine! That was the most clever little trick. My friend said he must've gone to college to have thought of that. I said she learned an important lesson that day: Charm gets you further than mean.

I Have a Cool Brother

Today my brother treated me to lunch at Red Lobster. He's a pretty cool guy. I mean, I'm kind of dorky and more than a little dramatic, yet my brother is very smooth and collected. He told me he passed his accounting class. We bumped knuckles. Thass my boy.

I Don't Know Anything About Cars

I can be a snarky smartypants about lots of stuff . . . except for cars. When it comes to cars, I'm a helpless, exposed little rabbit, drained of any verve, snap, crackle or pop. I'm a wide-eyed, blank-faced naif. However, beneath the bland, numb surface of my un-knowledge seethes a roiling, hissing cauldron of Ican'tstandthefactthatIcanbetakenasasucker.

So, after I jumped in my car last Sunday to scurry away to church only to be jolted by a dismaying non-start, I took it in on Monday. Thank God it was as simple as just needing a new battery. I know that words like 'alternator' and 'transmission' are bad, so after hearing a mere 'new battery,' I was shouting on the inside.

But come Wednesday night, the fool "check engine" light flickers on. Oh, really? So, this morning I took it back in and they said they'd take a look at it right away. Thank you, kind sir. Cuz I was bout to go get my cousin n'nem come up in heah an tell you you bett not be tryna play me.

Car guy: Well, Miss Smith, it didn't have anything to do with installing the battery. There's this instrument attached to your xgijagwgl sensor called an asfoiajgfahr8 and when woeruj evaporates it can cause erifojrgfio. It seemed that foijrmfoiwe was a little loose and may have been leaking, so we went in and tightened your rdfoijoit cap and the check engine light went off, so I think we may have fixed your problem.

Me: So there's no major, like, problems or leaks or anything?

Car guy: (handing me back my keys) No, ma'am. You're good to go.

Me: Thanks. (walks out dazed)

All I have to say is whatever poor soul out there who ends up pledging to stick with me for life better know something about cars.

You Won't Believe What I Did Yesterday Morning

Yesterday morning, my brain was flinging itself onto divans. It was traipsing through meadows in search of an elusive fawn. It was backstroking through an idyllic, mythical lake. It was drowning itself in a million figmental sorrows.

Plus it was raining.

I stepped outside with my NPR bag full of Spanish academic miscellany (which I hardly use since I'm not teaching now) and, armed with a flimsy fuschia umbrella, locked the door from the inside and pulled it to, thinking I would proceed to hop in my car and drive to work.

I was wrong.

As soon as I took a step towards my car, I realized that I didn't have my keys out. And when I realized I didn't have my keys out, I realized I didn't have my purse. And when I realized I didn't have my purse, I realized I had locked my purse (with keys) inside the house. And when I realized I had locked my purse (with keys) inside the house, I realized I couldn't get back into the house. And when I realized I couldn't get back into the house, I realized I had also left my cell phone in the house. And when I realized I had also left my cell phone in the house, I realized that I couldn't easily call anyone to help me resolve my dilemma. And when I realized I couldn't easily call anyone to help me resolve my dilemma, I realized I was adrift.

These realizations actually only took about 0.75 seconds to process.

So I did the futile things that people in like surreal situations usually do, ranging from berating myself to trying the knob to see if by some miraculous mechanical miracle it would yield. 'Twas all in vain. I stood there right outside the front door, watching the rain fall and soaking in the absurdity of life.

The rest of the story is anti-climatic, in a practical kind of way. After a few seconds of soaking in the absurdity of life, I went to a neighbor's house and was able to call my mom to relate to her my plight. I then called the department to let them know that, due to, er, delays, I would be in late.

Oh, and between my mom's arrival and my driving off into the sunset, I gave a tearful monologue on how much I despise having to rely on other people, how I hate feeling dependent and how I'm 27 and am supposed to be an adult. My mom, in so many words, said, "This is life. Get over it." And then I drove off into the sunset.

One of the odd pleasures

in my life is going to Starbucks at the student center where they always ask you your name to write on the cup, and awaiting my drink to see what amusing misspelled rendering of my name the barista decided upon.

One of the Things That Makes Me Laugh Every Time I Think About It

When I was subbing for one of my colleagues on maternity leave earlier this semester, I had a student in my class named Charlie.

I was passing back papers and when I went to hand Charlie his paper back I accidentally dropped it. Picking it up, I said, "Oops! Sorry, Charlie." I immediately started laughing at the fact that I had just said, "Sorry, Charlie," and then I tried (unsuccessfully) to stop and felt badly because I didn't want him to think I was making fun of his name. Besides, I was sure he'd been teased with "Sorry, Charlie" his whole life, and I had a feeling he wasn't as amused as I was.

France Update

Ah, bon. Pretty much everything is in place for my departure next month. It is absolutely ridiculous that it's less than a month away. I've got my ticket, I've got my visa, I have my accommodations arranged, and I've taken my placement test. I'm set.

Quick recap: I applied for and won a scholarship through a service club, Rotary International, to study abroad in Tours, France for six months. I'll be attending a language institute 20 hours a week and living with a host family. My responsibilities will be to attend class (of course), give presentations at Rotary meetings in France (in French!) and share American culture with those I meet. My scholarship covers tuition, room, board and round trip travel.

God has been very good to me by providing me with part-time employment during my transition between graduation and leaving to go abroad. But the fact of the matter is that I will not be allowed to work abroad (legally) and, after some recent calculations, it appears that my scholarship won't be enough to cover financial obligations that I'm still taking care of stateside.

In the end, I've worked, but have not saved what I anticipated. If any readers would be so gracious, I've installed a way for you to help by way of the PayPal donate button you'll find above. Any little bit would mean a lot to me. Merci beaucoup!

A Million Miles Tour Report

A more informative, less giddy report on my night with Don Miller has been featured on the latest edition of 90&9. Check it out here.

My Tres Leches Cake

You 'ont know nothin' bout DIS!

What 'chu know bout DAT?

Awww, yeah. It's the milky silky Tres Leches cake all topped with whipped cream all up in my fridge all up in ya girl's kitchen. Yeah. Tres Leches, son.

So, I was in Texas and we made a quick stop by a supermarket named Fiesta. I virtually stepped into Mexico. Mariachi music on the loudspeakers, signs in Spanish, spicy, foreign, Cheeto-like snacks in the snack aisle. I was in a wonderland of Spanishness. When I saw a bilingual Duncan Hines box mix for Tres Leches cake, I snatched that bad boy up and vowed to make it once I returned to my syrupy sweet native (sort of) Alabama.

Sweet potato pie's been scarfed away, peach cobbler's been gobbled, so I whipped up this sucka. Mmmm. Silky milky goodness.

Prince Caspian

I have seen both Narnia movies more times that I'd like to admit. Wiping drool away from my mouth after awakening from having slept through the bulk of the second one, Prince Caspian, I caught the tail end. Peter, Susan, Edmond and Lucy, after having saved Narnia once again, say their farewells and head back through the portal to return to their lives as English schoolkids.

It hit me that night how deeply sad that part is. (And it's not because Susan impulsively kisses Prince Caspian after she tells him it wouldn't work. Prince Caspian is a total weenie throughout the whole movie. Good riddance, Susan.) For some reason, that night, it left a hollow in my soul. I mean it. And the song that accompanies it, "The Call" by Regina Spektor, is so hauntingly sadly beautiful, I just wanted to scream, "No! Don't go back! Stay in Narnia forever!"

When will I get it through my head that Narnia is make-believe?

Today is Thanksgiving Day

so I'll do what everyone does and what everyone should do and list the things that I am thankful for.

1. The grace and mercy of God.

2. A functional, supportive family.

3. My health.

4. A working car.

5. My education.

6. Chocolate.

7. The opportunity to travel.

8. Straight teeth.

9. Time off.

10. Cool, funny brothers who would fight for me at the drop of a hat.

11. The laughter of children.

12. Good, true, honest friends.

13. My present inability to gain significant weight.

14. Healthy parents who look like they'll last a long, long time.

15. A safe, cozy place to sleep at night.

16. Sunflowers.

17. Hot, buttery Auntie Anne's pretzels with no salt from the mall.

18. Things that make me laugh every time I think about them.

19. Hugs.

20. Smiles. (Especially from attractive, tall, bespectacled men.)

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Morning Prayer

My mind is crammed with me.

Moving creatures jostling, wriggling

Infused with me

Injected with Serum of Me

And left to grow frantic.

Deconstruct me.

Decentralize me.

Don't leave me tangled in me

Forced to breathe the odor of me

Sweet, fearful stench.

Unfold me.

Instead, I want to carry

The power of small things:

One word, one grain, one note, one drop, one thread

At ease with days of no resolve.

Show me.

I am a beloved stranger.

Strangers learn by imitation

Strangers smile at approximation

They know this is not their country.

On Love

There was a little girl in my Sunday School class yesterday. She was inconsolable. She pushed away crayons, stickers. She declined the opportunity to paste brightly colored feathers onto a handprint turkey. She said "no" to a fuzzy bear that wanted a hug. She cried. She whined. She tantrumed. She pulled out and tried to knock down multi-colored wooden chairs. She wandered around the room instead of joining the group.

Even the most unhappy children perk up for snack time. But she pushed away even animal crackers and juice. I almost gave up. I didn't know what this child wanted. She wasn't even crying for Mommy like most of the criers do. I finally bent down and picked her up, fully expecting her to push me away. But instead of wriggling out of my grasp, she clung to me and buried her face in my neck. I rubbed her back and told her "it's okay" until she calmed down.

That's all she wanted. Someone to hold her and love her and give her positive attention.

I held her in my lap as I continued with the lesson. She slowly began to eat the animal crackers, drink the juice and eventually participate with the other children.

It was amazing to me. There are so many children whose parents, due to youth, poverty and ignorance, don't treat them like children. Maybe they treat them the way they were treated as children. It becomes a vicious cycle.

Maybe I'll have the chance to teach the little girl again.

The whole experience made me think about how I will treat my own children and how important it is, above anything else, to show them love.

This Just In! OMG!

I twittered my t-shirt pics to Don Miller and got a DIRECT REPLY from him!

You have a new direct message:

donmilleris: My girl!!! Yes! So good Chan. Thanks so much. You are such a bright spot on the tour for me.

I am in 7th Heaven. So sweet.

My Brush with Destiny

As any faithful readers know, last night was my brush with destiny. After so many years of being touched by Don Miller's writing, and as a result, loving him, I finally met him in the flesh. It was fantastic.

Okay, let me start out by saying this: Everything on my wishlist came true. (Mention on his blog as yet undetermined.) Boy, am I glad I wore my shirt! It was a hit. People commented on it, but most of all, Don loved it. When I walked up to him to get my book signed, he was pleasantly surprised at my shirt. He was all flattered and said it was great and asked me to send him a picture. Then he asked for a hug. I was more than happy to oblige.

Here's the thing: Because of time constraints, Don was only to autograph the books. No time for writing special messages, etc. But Don himself asked me my name and wrote an unsolicited special message in my book right above his autograph. Take a look at the slideshow and see everything for yourself:

I'll be writing a less giddy, more informative report on my night with Don Miller for 90&9 soon. But for now, a few details:

1. Susan Isaacs was Don's warm-up act, so to speak, and she did a great piece from her book Angry Conversations with God.

2. While Don was chatting right before intermission about The Mentoring Project and Worldvision, he tripped off of the platform! It was a really bad trip, but he saved himself from actually taking a dive. I was horrified, but he recovered quite nicely with his signature self-deprecating humor. It endeared him to me even more, though. It made him seem more human.

3. I sat in the very first pew, front and center. I am so thankful that my friend insisted we sit right up front. She also took many of the pictures for me. She really helped to make it a special night for me. Love you, k.

I don't think anything could have gone much better. Don really exceeded my expectations!