And in the end…there is love.

Today is Amanda’s birthday.

Amanda is one of my favorite people in the world. Even if she can’t be serious in a picture for two seconds.

No seriously, she is. She and I have similar philosophies when it comes to food.

And I don’t just love her because she’s my cousin. I love her because she would do anything for me. She would take a rhino horn in the butt for me.

She would drink pineapple through a straw with me, just because I asked her to.

Amanda and I are quite different though. She is adventurous and likes to scale large rocks using her entire body. I would rather read a book about scaling large rocks.

But we work well together. She wrestles a mountain goat with her bare hands, and I take pictures of her.

But our differences don’t matter when we’re together. Together, we form this mighty duo. This athletic, nerdy, beautiful, smart duo.

She’s always been there for me. She’s cried with me. Laughed with me. Spoken wisdom into my life. Occasionally knocked some wisdom into my life. Sings for me at weddings.

I know few people who are more kind, more beautiful, more caring, more grounded than Amanda. Even children like her. And children are good judges of character.

I’m blessed to have her in my life.

Happy birthday, Amanda! Have your cake and eat it to!

Today is my mom’s birthday. I hate that for the past five years, I’ve never been able to be home with my mom on her birthday. We have to make-do with flowers delivered to her work, beat up packages containing a gift, and the occasional off-tune rendition of “Happy Birthday” on her voice mail. I wish it were different, but for now, that’s how it is.

People say my mom and I look a lot alike. When I was at home for her wedding in May, I came across both of our high school graduation pictures. What do you think?

Anyway, I didn’t come here to post pictures of my mom and me. And I didn’t come here to post pictures of how we’re alike. Because, in fact, we’re quite different. There are so many qualities in her that I admire, that I wish I possessed myself. So many things that come naturally to her that are a struggle to me.

My mom LOVES people. She is kind to everyone, and loves to strike up conversations with someone she’s never met before. I’ve never seen her uncomfortable around people she doesn’t know. To my mother, there are no strangers. Just people she hasn’t met yet.

My mother is also incredibly resilient. When my stepdad died a few years ago, I saw a side of my mom I’ve never seen before. Yes, I saw her grieve. But then, I saw her bloom into this beautiful, independent woman. She was never afraid to show me her sadness–but she also showed me her bravery. And when she remarried a few months ago, I saw a woman who was constantly renewed and healed by God.

Mom also has this beautiful, gentle spirit. For about ten years, my mom babysat out of her home. She cared for those children like they were her own. And they weren’t all very lovable. But she was patient and loving, and those kids loved her, their “Nini.”

So Happy Birthday, Mom! I’m still learning from you, every day.

I haven’t blogged since Sunday. I know, you’ve been wiling away your days, wondering “When will Brandy fill my life again with her words of wisdom.” Well, it ain’t happening today. I have no wisdom. No creativity. My allergies are killing me. I’ve been house and pet sitting for two weeks, and I want to be at home.

So, I will leave you today with a video that summarizes my last 17 days.

And you should comment. It makes me happy.

The title of this blog post was my shout earlier this weekend. I’ve been having a lot of “wow, I’m an idiot” moments lately, and I thought I would share them with you, dear reader. But I’m not stupid. I swear.

• I was helping a friend make up her kid’s bed, and things were just not working out very well. I called said friend in, and asked why there was this weird elastic seam thing running through the middle of the sheet. “You have it on wrong,” she said. “No way,” I responded. “Look, it’s…oh. These are stupid sheets!”
• Conversation with the same friend, a few hours later:
  Me: I have this cut on my knee, and when I drive, it rubs against this console thing, and it really bugs me.
  Friend: Why don’t you put your seat back a little.
  Me: (reaching for the seat lever) I can’t. You see, it…oh. Stop laughing at me!
• Also this week, I found myself trying to reason with the dogs for which I’m pet-sitting. “I really need you to come inside, because I’m running late for work. Oh right, you don’t know what work is. You just sit here and sniff each other all day.”
• In the past two weeks, I have left the garage door open all night, left the door unlocked all night, walked into two screen doors, and started one blender with the lid off.

But I’m not stupid. I swear!

So, I’m really not a people person.

I know, shocker, right?

It’s not that I dislike people. I’m not even bad at making friends. But it doesn’t come easy to me. I hate talking to new people. I would prefer to skip the whole “getting to know you” phase. I don’t think I make very good first impressions. I don’t talk to strangers (stranger danger!)

But some of my closest family and friends LOVE getting to know people. I grew up with a mother who would spend 30 minutes discussing her favorite recipe for meatloaf with a stranger at the grocery store. I rarely make eye contact with people at the grocery store. I have friends who, in a room crowded with people they don’t know, get all excited about meeting new friends. Excited? That scenario gives me a headache. I can fake it, but when I get home, I just crash from the sheer exhaustion of–ugh–making small talk.

Sometimes, though, I benefit from those gregarious friends. Recently, on a mini-vacation, I sat by the pool with one of “those” people. I saw her eyeing a young couple nearby. I knew she wanted to talk to them. I could see it in her eyes.

And when she began that inevitable conversation, I got to watch something beautiful. I watched a friendship begin. I watched bonding happen. I watched two people, strangers mere minutes before, laughing and sharing.

Once my friend broke the ice, I joined the conversation (I like to make my friends do the hard stuff). The three of us had such a great time, discovering common threads in our lives, sharing the good and the bad.

I have no idea if that friendship will last beyond those few short hours. But I don’t think friendships are defined by time. I think friendships serve different purposes at different seasons. Maybe we all crossed paths to offer a brief encouragement. Maybe more. But I don’t think it matters.

What matters is a friend taught me to step outside of what’s comfortable. To share in the unknown.

Stranger danger be damned!

I think I would like to start a new fourth of July tradition.

Of course, there will be fireworks and food (mmmm, gelato!)

But there will also be insanely big eagle statues and lots of pretty flowers.

There will be giant cars made out of Legos.

Incredible mountains and the most fabulous smelling roses ever.

And the most important factor–friends. Really great, incredible friends.

God bless America

I am tired. Deep down in my spirit tired. I tell you this to try and maintain the honesty I’ve always strived for on this blog. I have no problems sharing what a gigantic dork I am. But it’s been a while since I shared how difficult plodding on can be.

It’s difficult for me to say my life is hard. Working at a ministry that serves some of the most depsarately poor in the world puts things into perspective. But that doesn’t mean that my own life is always rainbows and daisies. Things are hard sometimes. And I must stop going through the hard times minimizing my pain just because other people are worse off than me. Sometimes I feel like I’m painting over my pain with a mural of other people’s strife. But soon my pain is peaking through again. Weathered and ugly.

I’m not telling you any of this so you will feel pity for me. I’m telling you this because I know many of you understand the process. That you know what it’s like to pretend like everything’s okay when it’s really not. That you’ve dealt with that elephant planted firmly in the middle of the room and pretended like it wasn’t there.

So there it is. I’m in the middle of this messy, emotional, dealing-with-stuff time, and it’s not fun. I don’t really like it. But I’m not going to pretend like it’s not happening anymore.

There’s an elephant in the room. And I’m going to hunt it down.

Dear Rude Woman with the Pop Up:

Excuse me? Ma’am? EXCUSE ME! Please don’t act like you don’t see me standing at this camping spot. I don’t just loiter around camp sites for the heck of it. I do it because in a few moments, I would like to pitch a tent here. So please don’t walk by me and start directing your friend to back your camper into this spot. Yeah, THIS spot. The ONE WHERE I’M STANDING. We both know this is the last spot in this whole campground. And I will fight you for it. I’m scrappy.

Sincerely,
YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE

—————-

Dear Cute Single Guy at the Site Next to Mine:

I am really much cuter than this normally. You just happened to see me at a bad moment. I had my camping cowlick, I had just finished running, and I was exiting the port-a-pottie. I’m not normally that shade of green. Usually a much more pleasant ivory. You should see me with make-up. And brushed hair. And clean clothes. I promise, I clean up good.

Sincerely,
Use Your Imagination

—————-

Family to the North:

I’m normally a pretty sympathetic person. And I have NO idea what you were going through to make you cry ALL NIGHT in your tent. For the first hour, I felt sorry for you. For the second hour, I felt pity. But around 2 a.m., I started feeling homicidal. I hope things are better for you now. I’m sorry I wanted to kill you.

Sleepy Girl in the Pup Tent

—————-

Dear Coppertone,

I thought your spray-on sunblock was a brilliant idea. I can reach all of this hard-to-reach spots with a simple press of a button. But there is some kind of flaw in your product. I don’t know exactly what that flaw is, but it left my knees sunburned. Yes, just my knees. My bright red, on fire knees. Because surely it wasn’t me that couldn’t figure out how to put on sunblock. I refuse to believe that.

She with the fiery knees (that’s my Native American name0

—————-

Dear Pedicure Man,

I owe you an apology. Getting a pedicure the day I got back from camping was a wonderful idea for me…I fear it was less wonderful for you. I promise, I showered. I scrubbed my feet. But there are some things that require more than a loofah and a washcloth. More than a pumice stone. A sandblaster may have been the best possible solution.

Sincerely,
Your Stained Footed Friend

My first camping trip of the summer. Good times.