On Our Way To Crazy

I’ve read a couple of posts lately about Christmas lists. Specifically, about what to ask for from your in-laws. This is quite the conundrum.

Does your family do Christmas lists? We always have. As a kid, they were very very important. We got that huge Sears toy catalog in the mail and my sister and I would page through it, looking for things to put in our letters to Santa that we left on the fireplace with the cookies and milk. I remember one year running back into the living room on Christmas Eve to add a last minute gift idea to my letter. My mom was very careful to make sure I understood that Santa had probably already left the North Pole and I may not have made it on time. Very thoughtful.

Lists were definitely simpler then. You just asked for stuff. Whatever you wanted. The bigger the better. You probably weren’t going to get much of it, and that was fine. I just enjoyed the process. It was a precursor to my favorite things to do now – read magazines and make lists.

It’s a little more complicated now. Lists are definitely helpful if your family is really into gifts like ours are. I want to make sure we get gifts for people that they want. In a perfect world we would all be so in tune with each other that we wouldn’t even need lists and the gifts would be perfect every time, right? Well, we don’t live in that world. And that’s okay. But what do you ask for? And from who(m)? How much should things cost? WHAT ARE THE RULES?

It’s one thing to send a list to your own parents. I try to follow the same rules from when I was a kid. Ask for whatever! Get what you get! It’s fun! Your mom doesn’t care! She will just laugh at you if you get crazy! It’s all good!

But the in-law list is a little more stressful. They want a list, so you need to make one. But what is reasonable? Do you just list general ideas and hope for the best? Can you be specific, with links and instructions on setting up an Etsy account? I don’t know.

Either way, the list making is fun. I try to ask for things I would never buy for myself. Not because they are expensive, but because they seem frivolous. These are the things that make good gifts. They’re the things I try to buy off other people’s lists, too, so don’t ask me to get you socks. Not gonna happen.

I was walking around Target this morning looking for giant plastic bags, big dangly earrings and decorative pears. You know, as you do.

While I was examining the ziploc offerings, I overheard a conversation between two employees on the next aisle. Let’s call them Zak and Sara.

Sara: Oh my gosh, Zak, did you see that family that came in yesterday?
Zak: What family?
Sara: It was this huge family, tons of people. All the kids and women kind of spread out all over the store and the men were hanging out in Starbucks. After a while, one of the guys got up and BLEW A WHISTLE.
Zak: What? A whistle?
Sara: Yeah. And then all the women and kids started showing back up at the front of the store, and then they all just left. It was so weird.
Zak: That is really weird. Did they buy anything?
Sara: Nope. I think they were gypsies.
(Me, in my head: GYPSIES? Awesome! I want to be friends with the Brentwood gypsies.)
Zak: Gypsies? What are you talking about?
Sara: Oh, well, you know. Hispanics.

WHAT? Hispanics? Gypsies? Is there some kind of roving band of hispanic gypsies I don’t know about? Is there anywhere in the world where those two things are connected? What on earth was she talking about? Is this a thing everyone knows about but me? I hate being out of the loop.

Would you like to hear another story about music I loved in college? No? Good. I am tired of telling them.

This one’s not interesting, anyway. Every girl you knew in college loved Jennifer Knapp. LOVED her. We bought that first record and we wore it out. We listened to the second one until the CD broke.

It’s always hard to find good music for girls. In Christian music you get teeny-bopper pop and you get old lady ballads. But for the legions of teenage girls who wanted their music to be, you know, good, there weren’t a lot of options.

Jennifer Knapp came along and sang what we were feeling. Not only that, but she sang it like she meant it. There was emotion. It was real. And we ate it up.

Then she disappeared. And we were depressed. And there were questions and rumors and some drama. But we moved on and she moved on and then I found Brandi Carlile who was like Jennifer Knapp part two.

And then, you guys. She came back. There was a new myspace. A couple of new songs. A tour date or two on the west coast. Then one day a couple of weeks ago I checked the Belourt for movie times, and lo and behold, a Nashville date. November 18.

Y’ALL. She is so amazing. The place was packed. She came out and started immediately with an old one (I can’t remember which one, my short term memory tops out at two hours), and when she finished the whole crowd went crazy.

It was fun to hear the old songs again, for sure. But the new stuff is killer. KILLER. I cannot wait for the new album.

I love living in Nashville for a lot of reasons. Today, it’s the perfect storm of old favorites moving to town and a little extra cash on hand that led to me seeing Waterdeep and Jennifer Knapp in the same week. So awesome.

I love all the kids in my youth group. I really, really do. But I have to say that the girls in my junior high class are the coolest kids in the world. They are funny and sharp and sweet and totally adorable. Our hour of bible study together is the highlight of my week.

I got in trouble with Aaron today for always falling asleep during the Cowboys games. Apparently it keeps him from fully being able to yell at the TV.

This year is our first Thanksgiving with a real dining room table. We have seven people coming over, and I’m thinking of doing it up all fancy-like with place settings and table decorations and centerpieces and nameplates. Thoughts? I’ve never done a dinner like that before. I think it would be awesome.

Wednesday night in youth group we are making Christmas decorations for the youth room and watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. I can’t wait.

This weekend I’ve been taking care of a friend’s two huge labs while she was out of town. I mean HUGE. I was kind of nervous about it, but it has been super fun. They are awesome. Yesterday we spent an hour in the backyard just throwing the ball around. You guys know I love Miles more than my luggage, but he is not very playful. He likes to sleep. A lot. It’s been fun to hang out with more active dogs.

The other day one of my youth group parents brought me a couple of bottles of his HOMEMADE WINE. I love my job. And my church. And that particular parent.

Last week Aaron was watching his idol, Gordon Ramsey, on some food show or another. Apparently on the show he made a ceasar salad. Aaron was inspired. I don’t know what kind of crazy technique he thinks he is using… it just looks like making a ceasar salad to me. But they are delicious ceasar salads. And I would know. We’ve had four since Thursday.

Yesterday I cleaned our house from top to bottom. Cobwebby corners to dusty baseboards. There are a lot of days when I wish this house was a little bit bigger, but yesterday was not one of those days. I polished floors, scrubbed cabinet doors and vacuumed behind the bed. This place looks awesome. I want to have a party now but people will just mess it all up.

It is truly amazing to me that Miles has any fur left on his body. By the time I was done yesterday there was multiple dogs’ worth of fur in the trash. He is a shedding machine, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

When we were in Texas last week my parents taught me a game that they were calling Zonk but it turns out is actually Farkle. (My mom doesn’t like that word.) It is fun and simple, and I am TERRIBLE at it. I don’t know how you can be skilled at a game that is pretty much based on luck, but there is definitely a skill level that I do not have. The other night I decided to show Aaron how to play. Bad idea. He smoked me three times in a row by THOUSANDS of points. I hate that stupid game and both of its stupid names.

Aaron is going out of town this week to do some Very Important Band Business. I will sustain myself solely on wine and hummus and Golden Oreos.

I hate it when commercials fake me out by being really cute and sweet in the beginning but turn out to be ads for cheesy diamond jewelry.

I could really use a few more adults in my life who actually behave like adults. Is there some kind of condition that makes people allergic to the idea of JUST SAYING WHAT THEY MEAN ALREADY, SERIOUSLY, YOU ARE MAKING MY LIFE SO VERY DIFFICULT.

The other day, in honor of the time change, I made a ‘dark and moody’ playlist. I figure if I have to drive around in the dark starting at 5pm, I should at least have some appropriate music to accompany me. There’s only one problem – I really really love it and listen to it all the time. So now I am weirdly moody and kind of emo all the time. At least I fit in with the kids now.

Question. If you got this card in the mail at Christmas, how would you feel about it?

Cool or lame?

Two years ago I signed up for NaBloPoMo. The idea is to post on your blog every day for the month of November. I did really well that year, until the very last day, when I totally forgot about it and blew the whole thing.

So this year I am trying again. I don’t feel great about my chances, honestly, but I am rolling with it. I think I can do it. I set up an alarm on my phone to remind me every day. It’s all about baby steps, right?

Wish me luck! And, you know, leave me some comments. I need the encouragement. Don’t make me beg. I’ll do it. I’ll need something to post about around day seventeen.

I was reading through my notebook from last year’s youth worker’s convention, looking for some game ideas, when I found a couple of very important thoughts I wrote down. They’re not dated or titled from any particular seminar, so I’m not sure where I heard them, but I think they may be the wisest bits of wisdom I picked up while I was there.

And now I will pass them along to you.

“Just because I love God doesn’t mean I have to disrespect Jeff Buckley and Leonard Cohen.”

and

“There’s always that one guy who has completely unnecessary sideburns and a newsboy cap, and if that sounds a little too familiar than you should maybe look into that.”

You’re welcome.

We are completely obsessed with reruns of The West Wing on Bravo. I don’t know when or how often they come on, but we have about 25 sitting on the DVR.

I really actively disliked Studio 60 when it came on. I didn’t understand all the preaching and uppity-ness about sketch comedy. But preaching and uppity-ness about liberal politics? That I can handle. It’s smart and funny and has great characters. I love it so much.

I have listened to Dashboard Confessional’s Dusk and Summer about a thousand times in the last week. It is the perfect end of summer album. Go download ‘Stolen’. I’ll wait here.

I have a church music pet peeve I need to share. It is so awkward when songs have lyrics that describe an action that we aren’t actually doing. It feels weird and disingenuous to sing lines like “awestruck we fall to our knees” or “we stand and lift up our hands” if we are not actually doing those things. But it feels fake to do them just because we’re singing about it. I mean, it’s one thing to lift your hands and spin around in the youth room. It’s another to falsify your awestruck-ness.

Also I hate it in “How Great Is Our God” when the line ‘sing with me’ is on the screen. Who are we talking to? Why is that in the official lyrics? I do not understand.

I have a very distinct memory of these cookies that my mom used to buy when I was a kid. They were like little shortbread bites, but they were hollow and the middle was filled with chocolate. They were excessively delicious – nice and crispy, and then you would bite into them and this chocolate frosting-y stuff would burst out. I can’t remember the name of them and they are nowhere to be found.

Then today I am wandering around World Market looking at all the crazy food they sell. I am in the Japanese section, looking at the different Pocky flavors, when I come across something called Hello Panda. What is Hello Panda? Just a delicious Japanese cookie, then and crispy on the outside with chocolate frosting-y stuff in the middle. Also, THE MOST DELICIOUS COOKIES EVER. They aren’t the cookies I remember, exactly, but they’re pretty darn close.

Things are on a major upswing with the youth group these days. Well, an upswing with a weight tied around it. Our Sunday mornings have been great the past few weeks… it’s amazing what school starting will do for you. We have a ton of new kids and have been having some really good discussions in our small groups. I am thrilled.

The weight wrapped around it comes in the form of our youth space. Remember that house we were working on to renovate and turn into a youth building? That is pretty much dead in the water. The combination of this recession and unknown and potentially astronomical structural repair costs have put the project on the probably not happening list. I don’t know what the future of a permanent space for our kids will be, but we do have a temporary answer. We have taken over the conference room and a couple of other rooms in our church office building and I am frantically working to get them cleaned and painted and youth-ized. So, at least for a little while, we’ll have some space that’s ours.

We had more kids than can fit in the room today, though, so it’s a mixed blessing.

I recently bought skinny jeans, tall boots, and a lumberjack plaid tunic. I am trying to be cooler than I am. Lord help me.

Last week was our last Sunday night as care group leaders. Remember all those concerns I had a couple of years ago when we started this thing? Turns out I knew more than I realized. It was just too much.

Lucky for us our group is full of amazing people and we had no trouble handing this thing off to another couple. We will just be… members. We can just show up and participate. I don’t have to plan or clean or worry that no one will show up. I can’t wait.

I turned 29 this week. It made me feel old.

I never feel old, not really. I work with teenagers every day, which generally keeps me feeling young in the kind of way that makes me unable to participate in conversations with real grown ups. I have old lady moments every now and then, like when my little sister doesn’t know what Z Cavaricci’s are or when I am trying to talk to someone about the music we listened to in high school, only to realize that when I was in high school, he was in THIRD GRADE. And now we are adults. Together.

I was good at being 28. I liked 28. It worked for me. I wasn’t very good at college and young 20′s, not in the traditional sense. I didn’t party. I wasn’t crazy. It felt right to turn 28, like I’d been 28 all along and my actual age finally caught up with me.

But 29 feels old. It feels grown up. Like I don’t have an excuse for acting like a kid anymore. I kind of like being the youngest one in the room… it lets you be a little more relaxed, a little less responsible. It’s okay to be the one in the back of the room making jokes.

Old or not, I had a great birthday. My excellent friend Becka took me out for a wine and pasta lunch, I went shopping, and had a great night out with Aaron. My mom sent me a birthday box that included a stainless steel skillet, some great jewelry, tons of candy and a coffee mug that says “I HEART DALLAS”. Friends I haven’t talked to in ages called me with birthday greetings. I got excessively sweet messages from unexpected places. Aaron gave me a wax seal for letters and promised to still love me in my old lady state. It was a great day.

And now I am 29 and four days. Three hundred and sixty-one days away from 30. It’s crazy crazy crazy. At least I’ll be an old lady who sends very cool mail.