Through a Glass, Darkly

Here is a special Wednesday edition of Farmer’s Market Finds! They are open on Wednesdays during the summer. And, hoo boy, the Farmer’s Market is in its prime right now. Look at all the colors. My mom would be so proud. (She loves food with color.)

(Also, look at our old countertops there. Because those suckers are on their way out.)

I didn’t actually go to the Farmer’s Market this morning. Mike went by himself. When I go by myself, I come back with three things. When he goes alone, he comes back with a veritable feast. Here are our totals: three tomatoes, two bunches of basil (of course), and two yellow zucchini for $6.25. Two peaches for $.95. One ear of corn (I don’t like corn) for $.50. One head of cabbage for $.65. And he splurged on a red pepper for $2.00. Total for today: $10.35.

(I went by my school yesterday to do some things, and a few people were like, “Hey, I saw you in the paper. Did you get your basil like you wanted?” Heeeee.)

On Sunday night, Mike and I watched Little Manhattan with his second mom and another one of her “sons” she’s taken in. (She is a very loving person. As I am sure you can tell.) Mike had very specific requirements about watching a movie with his second mom: he wanted it to be clean/family-friendly, he wanted it to be about New York, and he wanted it to be something he had already been wanting to see. Miraculously, such a movie existed. Little Manhattan is the story of ten-and-three-quarters year old Gabe, who loves eleven-year-old Rosemary. I don’t tend to have a lot of patience for children’s movies, but this one was so sweet that I couldn’t help myself. Gabe’s parents, played by Cynthia Nixon and Bradley Whitford, also had a poignant story, and we enjoyed seeing all the places we had just been walking around. If you are in the mood for something sweet and clean, give this a try. Warning: there is a lot of puking in the beginning. Apparently love makes you puke. If you’re ten.

When we got home Monday night, we watched Lars and the Real Girl, which we have both been wanting to see for quite a while. This is the story of Lars, played by Ryan Gosling, who is a nice guy, but who can’t really engage with the people around him. He purchases a doll on the internet. You know the kind of doll I mean. Her name is Bianca, and he introduces her to everyone as his girlfriend. As you can imagine, this alarms his family and friends. I expected to like it, but I did not expect to love it as much as I did. The secret is that this movie isn’t really as silly as it sounds, nor is it anything like what it sounds like when I say, “A lonely guy bought a sex doll on the internet.” Instead it’s a beautiful story of the community around Lars and how much they love him and how it changes them all. I cried. A lot. This one didn’t get a lot of publicity when it came out, and it’s kind of hard to explain, but it really is as wonderful as everyone keeps saying.

Amelia Atwater-Rhodes is an author of fantasy and young adult novels, and her books are popular with some of the students at my school, so when Random House asked me to be part of her blog tour, I happily agreed. She will be posting here on August 7th, but for now, you can read more about her on the rest of her blog tour, which started today!

July 22nd: Bildungsroman
July 24th: Cheryl Rainfield
July 25th: BookLoons
July 28th: Mrs. Magoo Reads
July 30th: Teen Book Review
July 31st: Making Stuff Up for a Living
August 4th: Bookwyrm Chrysalis
August 5th: The Reading Zone

Mike and I are on Long Island today. (I wrote “in Long Island” and Mike, the Long Islander, corrected me. I am from the South. I don’t know how to speak here.) We had a great week in Manhattan, which I will tell you about later. It involved a lot of food. And making decisions about food. And planning where we would eat our next meals. We take food very seriously. Which is okay, because we walked approximately 3,000 miles while we were in Manhattan. I wore flip flops one day. When we got back to our hotel, the bottoms of my feet were black. That is a true (and gross) story. I stuck to the Chucks after that. Even when I was wearing shorts. I did not, however, allow Mike to take any pictures of the Chucks/shorts combo. That I know of. I have not yet reviewed the pictures. If there are any, you will not get to see them. Sorry. It was not my best look. I don’t need to be made to look any shorter than I already am.

For the weekend, we went to Long Island, where Mike grew up. We stayed at his “second Mom’s” house and I got to see where he grew up and meet some of his old friends. We get to see where I grew up all the time, since my mom still lives there. We are surrounded by people who know my growing up stories. But Mike doesn’t really have that, and I think both of us miss it sometimes.

When Mike graduated, our pastor said something to his sister about the courage that it takes to reinvent yourself, and how he admires Mike for that. I thought about that this weekend, how different Mike’s life is now than it was twenty years ago when his family left Long Island, ten years ago when we were meeting, five years ago when he was starting to plan to go back to school. But he’s also the same person who lived on Long Island, walked to the grocery store for candy bars, ate pizza at Mamma Lombardi’s. We reinvent ourselves, but the past is still there, too, part of who we are. I enjoyed being introduced to the Long Island part of Mike. Even if everyone made fun of the fact that I say “grilling” instead of “barbecuing.” (Barbecue is a noun, okay? It is a specific food.)

Dear Jeff,

Mike and I observed you purchasing burgers for your office Thursday at The Burger Joint, home of New York City’s best burgers (according to some polls, and also according to us). Jeff, had you been to The Burger Joint before? Because one or two things you said made it sound like you had, but you seemed to be very confused about the protocol. I don’t know how to say this nicely, Jeff, but you were pissing off everyone who worked there. Did you really think it was necessary to ask for a receipt seven times? I am a little bit concerned for you, Jeff. Have you ever watched the show The Office? Because I am going to be honest with you, Jeff, you were acting more than a little bit like Ryan Howard. And by that I mean: jacked up on drugs. Jeff, sweetie, no matter how many times you say “To Go,” you are going to have to bag your own food. Mike and I were able to figure that out. Surely you can, too.

After observing you for a few minutes, Mike and I had conflicting ideas about you. He couldn’t believe the office would send someone as incompetent/drug addled as you to order food. I, however, felt as if they probably couldn’t stand to be around you one minute more, and that it was probably worth having their food order messed up just to be able to get away from you.

Mike conceded the point.

Jeff, Mike and I wish you the best and thank you for giving us something to discuss as we hiked through Central Park on such a hot day. But, Jeff, I say this with great concern and compassion: You need to get some help, man.

At one point Mike thought I was going to punch you in the face,
Kari

This is our stove. To be more accurate, it is a microwave/stove combo. I bet you didn’t know they made microwave/stove combos like this back in the day, did you? Well, neither did we.

It has its charms, to be sure. Those dials on the bottom of the microwave panel, they control the burners, and when you turn them on, they are red instead of black. You might think that this would help you remember to turn the burners off, but you’d be wrong. I am bad about leaving burners on as it is, but even Mike has forgotten these burners because they are in such an awkward forgettable place.

The buttons at the very bottom of the microwave panel are extremely special. One of them turns on the light at the back of the burners. That’s right, our burners are backlit when we so choose. It is an awesome fluorescent light. I can sense your jealousy.

Though the microwave looks like a huge beast, do not be fooled. It’s actually quite small. It just has an enormous door. Do not ask why. This stove/microwave combo is not to be understood. It is only to be looked at reverently.

No, seriously, be really careful if you are trying to cook anything. That front left burner - it looks normal, but it boils things, even on low.

I bought this card at a shop with Alisa and Susan and Brandi a few years ago, and I found it when I was cleaning out my side table when we moved. I’ve had it sitting on my bedside table since then, reminding me to purchase a frame for it.

I like the sentiment - it challenges me because I don’t have that kind of faith. I don’t know if I trust in that sort of a world. But it’s exactly the kind of faith I want to have. It makes me want to believe.

My aunt gave us a new, extremely fluffy mattress pad. Let me remind you, we already have a mattress that is like sleeping on a hammock of clouds held up by angels. I was not completely sold on the idea of needing a new mattress pad. Because of the awesomeness of our mattress. The first night we slept on the mattress pad, I declared it to be like sleeping on giant bubble wrap. It was weird and awful and I hated it. But, you know, maybe it would grow on me. So we left it on the bed, just to try it for a few more nights. After about two weeks, I had managed to smush it down enough that it was softer and more pleasant, except for the giant ridge that fell exactly where I normally sleep. Not my favorite. Also, sometimes when I would sleep a little bit diagonally, my feet felt as if they were elevated above my head. Sometimes they were tingly when I would get up in the morning.

Mike, however, declared the new mattress pad to be like sleeping in a hammock of hammocks held up by clouds of angels. This is an exact quote. And so we were at an impasse. Except for the part where I basically did not sleep through the night one time after we put the mattress pad on the bed, and the part where Mike can basically sleep anywhere on anything. I get . . . how do you say . . . cranky when I do not sleep. Also, the new mattress pad hurt my back. And my feet were tingly. So we are back to the boring old non-bubble-wrap mattress pad. And I am much less cranky, thank you for asking.

But, you guys, the old mattress pad looked so awesome on the bed. It made it look all big and fluffy and kingly. If only there were fluffy mattress pads that actually allowed, you know, sleep. I would totally be in favor of that.

All kings, and all their favourites,
All glory of honours, beauties, wits,
The sun it self, which makes time, as they pass,
Is elder by a year now than it was
When thou and I first one another saw.
All other things to their destruction draw,
Only our love hath no decay;
This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday;
Running it never runs from us away,
But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.

Two graves must hide thine and my corse;
If one might, death were no divorce.
Alas ! as well as other princes, we
—Who prince enough in one another be—
Must leave at last in death these eyes and ears,
Oft fed with true oaths, and with sweet salt tears;
But souls where nothing dwells but love
—All other thoughts being inmates—then shall prove
This or a love increasèd there above,
When bodies to their graves, souls from their graves remove.

And then we shall be throughly blest;
But now no more than all the rest.
Here upon earth we’re kings, and none but we
Can be such kings, nor of such subjects be.
Who is so safe as we? where none can do
Treason to us, except one of us two.
True and false fears let us refrain,
Let us love nobly, and live, and add again
Years and years unto years, till we attain
To write threescore; this is the second of our reign.

Happy Anniversary, Mike. Here’s to many more.

We’re leaving today for vacation, and we have managed to pack everything we (think we) need for a week into bags that can be carried on to the plane. I must confess that I have always been too chicken to attempt getting my liquids, gels, and aerosols on the aircraft, but a trip to Target has made me feel better. As Target often does.

This is a huge part of the reason I switched jobs, this whole getting to take real vacations thing. We will be happy to leave the house behind for a week and get away from all the work. Also, I feel like the neighbors have only seen me in painting clothes or jogging clothes, and I will be happy to wear real getting-out-of-the-house clothes for at least a week. I own real clothes, neighbors. I promise. In fact, I hardly ever wear clothes like the ones you keep seeing me in. Which is why you keep seeing the same ones.

I am taking three books on this trip: Saturday by Ian McEwan, Things Seen and Unseen: A Year Lived in Faith by Nora Gallagher (birthday present from my mom), and The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis. I have read The Great Divorce before, but I read most of it one summer in my car on breaks from my job (sound familiar?), and our pastor has been quoting from it a lot lately, so I have decided I want to revisit it.

Wish us luck at the airport. If you don’t hear from us again, our liquids, gels, and aerosols were probably not acceptable, and we might need you to send some help.

Mike got dressed for church this morning while I was still in the shower. I got out of the shower and got dressed in my favorite orange shirt. I then went into the kitchen and saw that, horror of horrors, Mike was wearing his orange polo. While some people think dressing alike is cute, I am opposed to it. I am not into cute. Except for tiny things. And babies. And Big Bunny, who is not tiny.

Mike’s argument was that he was doing sound this morning, so we wouldn’t be sitting together, so it was totally fine for us to wear the same color. This made sense, except for the part where we had to walk out together after the service and everyone we saw commented on our matchy cuteness. I thought it would be clever to tell people that since our anniversary is this week, we have to match all week long. The problem with this is that people already know that we are kind of strange, so they probably think it’s true.

(We’re so hardcore with the matchy, we even painted a room to match us.)

Mike and I felt a lot of pressure to go to the Farmer’s Market this morning. I mean, if we were featured in an article, we had better be there. Since we are going on vacation, we didn’t need very much, but . . . it seemed wrong not to go at all. And so here is our booty:

One yellow zucchini ($1.25, and the flavor on these is CRAZY GOOD - we had it grilled for dinner tonight), two bunches of basil ($1.00/each), one bag of beans ($2.00 - for dinner we roasted them in the oven in olive oil and spicy seasoning - kind of like green bean fries), and one basil plant ($5.00). Total for the week: $10.25. And also we get to keep our street cred. Added bonus for you: You can kind of see some of our kitchen in the background. Do not be alarmed. It will all look very different soon.

Above you can see the herbs Emily gave me for my birthday. Mike planted them, the basil, and some other herbs he bought at The Home Depot today while my mom, my aunt, and I worked on painting the trim in the sunroom. Three of the four walls are done, and . . . about a quarter of the final wall is done, too. Please don’t ask me why we aren’t finishing tonight. I just cannot get up on that ladder one more time. (Unexpected benefit of painting: I do not need a stairmaster.)

(I have been trying to blog every day . . . this is cutting it kind of close for me.)

Okay, Melissa, I am challenging you to get yourself in an article in the paper on yard sales. Because Mike and I are featured in an article about the Farmer’s Market this morning. Bring it!

I haven’t done a Big Bunny update in a while, but some people have asked how she survived the move. The answer to that is that she basically still thinks we are a bunch of idiots. Which is what she thinks all the time. So, essentially, nothing has changed.

Actually, the move from one house to another went more smoothly than when we moved her upstairs to the laundry room in the old house back in March (an Incident Of Which We Do Not Speak). We put her in her little travel carrier, which she hates, and got the cage into the pickup truck. I put the travel carrier into the floor of my car, cranked up the air, and spoke soothingly to her the whole way. This made no difference, because, as I mentioned, she thinks we are a bunch of idiots and also we had just put her in her travel carrier, making us unjust as well as stupid. She made scratchy protesting noises the whole way, which was good because it meant that I knew she hadn’t freaked out and had a bunny heart attack. Her feelings on our intelligence were confirmed when we unloaded the new cage, set it up exactly the same way, and put her in it. “Idiots,” she clearly thought. “Why put me through so much trauma just to put me right back in the same cage?”

We have been painting and moving furniture around in the sunroom, so we haven’t been able to let her out quite as much as she would like (she has made her feelings on that matter very clear), but she has enjoyed the room a lot. Now that the TV is hooked up, she likes to spread out in front of it (it’s definitely spreading out, because she is rather large) and listen to her shows. She thinks it’s totally unfair that we don’t let her operate the TiVo, though. (She ate some of the buttons off of the remote and lost her TiVo privileges.) When the work in the kitchen is done, we should be able to let her hop around the whole house a little bit more. Unfortunately, she had just gotten used to the idea of stairs, and she is going to think we are idiots for having everything on one floor. How will she get her stairmaster training in? (Did I mention that she is rather large?)

We have had Big Bunny for almost a year now, and for the most part she likes us a lot and will come when we call. She knows that she only gets food in her cage, so she runs there whenever she hears food, and she always goes back to her cage to take care of her business. Now if only we could be as intelligent as she deserves.

O Lord, mercifully receive the prayers of your servant who calls upon you, and grant that I may know and understand what things I ought to do, and that I also may have the grace and power faithfully to accomplish them; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. -taken from The Divine Hours, Prayers for Summertime

My copy of The Divine Hours for summer got packed at the very end of May, so I didn’t have it until we unboxed the books last weekend. Meaning I missed all of June. Which was kind of a downward spiral for me with the class I was taking, the stress of things possibly falling apart with the house, the end of school, and, oh, yeah, packing. Now that I am able to sit on my couch and drink my coffee and read my prayers, I can see how it might have been a good thing for me to have that in my routine, to read those words and say those prayers with so many other people. To have something solid to stand on when I was floundering in my own lack of belief. Because those are big prayers. That up there? That’s a big prayer. That cuts to the heart of many of my prayers: What am I supposed to do? Why is it that particular thing? There are times when I know what I ought to do: I should forgive, because it is one of the cornerstones of my faith. I might even understand why I am supposed to forgive: Because I have been forgiven, and because it will actually make me feel better not to be carrying those things around. Just to name a few. But sometimes I don’t understand how it’s possible, and I think that’s the kind of understanding this prayer is crying out for. Help me know what to do. Help me understand how to do it.

It resonated particularly with me this morning, because last summer we had an unprecedented streak of days over 100 degrees, something I can never remember happening before. It was miserable and unbearable, but, caught up in my haze of summer discontent, I continued to go to my car every day at lunch and read. I would read the Midday Office in The Divine Hours, and I would read my novel. You can look at last year’s list to see which books were read in July and August and then imagine me sweating it out in my car. I parked in the shade, don’t worry. And I drank a lot of water.

I remember talking to Andrea on the phone one day, talking about how I was so desperate to have the summer off, but I didn’t know what to do. There were so many classes I needed to take, and I didn’t really know how to get in the school system. I don’t remember praying this prayer particularly, but I must have, this same week, last year. Mike and I want a different sort of life, one where we are closer to our friends and where we have more time to be together. I do not think I can work another summer without going completely stir-crazy. I know what we want, but I don’t know how to get there. Help.

And now, I sit in my new house, with five more weeks of summer vacation. I have felt for so long that everything was piling up around me and I could not relax. But I am beginning to feel that relaxation settle in, that the restlessness that prevailed last summer is finally dissipating. There are many areas of my life where I still don’t know what to do and how to do it. But I can look back over the past year and feel as if we were guided in each of those difficult steps: applying for a new job, taking the new job, taking classes, putting our house on the market, and, finally, moving. I know that this prayer isn’t just about me and my own life, but also about God’s greater work in the world and how we can participate in it. But those are the things that were on my heart last summer, and (most of the time) I believe the things that are on my heart are part of the things that God cares about. I was lonely and restless, I believe, because he created me to be in community and to want to have time to spend with my friends and family. I can breathe deeply now, in a way I haven’t in a long time, because I have that time to rest, because Mike and I have time to work on our house and go on vacation. Because I have friends within walking distance (and one whose place of employment can be seen from my sunroom). Because I can see my mother and my brother more often. Because I was given the grace to take the next step. Because I can sit here in my sunroom with my coffee and feel as if many of my desperate prayers from the past few years have been answered.

It has felt a bit like we are just playing house here at the new place. There is still so much to do, and there are still so many things in boxes (though those boxes are now conveniently stored in the extra bedrooms, which means that things at least appear much less cluttered). The kitchen, which is arguably the center of our home, can’t really be unpacked (and we are going to have to spend several weeks “camping out” without a proper one as the new one gets installed). But I think the real reason this house doesn’t yet feel like home is that I never really said goodbye to the old place. I had planned to go back with Mike and help clean, but at the time, it was deemed more prudent for me to stay here and start digging out. I thought it wouldn’t matter, that I had said my goodbyes back in March, and I had, to some extent. But yesterday afternoon I realized that it felt like a relationship that petered out without any closure. The last time I saw the house, I was driving away with a load of boxes in the back of the pickup truck I was driving, and I thought I would be returning. Though I was unbearably ready to move by the time we actually got to do so, I loved that house with its bright kitchen, its enormous bathrooms, and its happy memories. I hate to see our relationship end on such a nonexistent note. I am sure I will think of it from time to time and remember how things were when we had planned to stay there rather than those last few months when I felt trapped in a house that was so far from where I wanted to be.

I have friendships like that, too, friendships that ended on a less-than-positive note, and some that just faded away. I still think about some of those people from time to time, still wonder exactly what happened and how it could have been fixed. I used to write about it a lot, those broken friendships and my desire for closure. And I have learned, a bit, over the past few years, to think of things as they were before our relationships went sour for whatever reason. For a long time, I could only focus on how things went wrong in the end, not the parts where we loved each other and shared life together. I have also learned to see the crashing and burning as an opportunity to meet new people, to continue to grow. I was given the opportunity to redefine myself, to challenge my ideas of who I was and what I was about. I see the value of long-term friendships, certainly, but I also see how they can develop unhealthy patterns, not allowing one another to change. The breaking of some of those friendships forced me out of some of my patterns, and now, on the other side of all that pain, I am thankful for it.

Mike and I have seen this move as another chance to redefine ourselves and what we are about. That meant leaving things behind that we liked very much about our old town: the library where everyone knew my name, the hardly-ever-crowded Wal-Mart, the house we had chosen and decorated (and rehabilitated after the flood). I think a lot, maybe too much, about what I value and how I might live in line with those values, and I think that what we have chosen is in line with the things we claim to value. As I get used to all this change, I know we will come to love this house and what it says about us just as I love my new friends and what they have taught me. But the old friends, the old house, will have a place in my heart, too. For the first time, I can sort of see how that is done.

A lot of people have asked me what we did for my birthday. We went out with my family to my favorite restaurant, which was lovely. This year’s birthday celebrations have been low-key, no question, especially compared to past years. We’ve had a lot going on. But we did do something else that day, something wonderful: We unpacked the majority of our books! The big shelves in our front room have our books on them! Which I can read! Whenever I want!

I have noticed that when I tell people this, they get this sort of knowing look, like they finally understand once and for all that I am nothing but a nerd. But I am too busy basking in the glow of my books to care. (And, really, shouldn’t they have figured this out before now?)

Melissa likes to tell you about all the rules she has for yard sales and all the deals she finds on Saturday mornings. Well, I am usually out and about on Saturday mornings, but it’s not at yard sales. It’s at the Farmer’s Market. So here is my answer to Melissa’s posts: Kari’s Farmer’s Market Finds, An Occasional Series. My posts will deal with vegetables rather than clothes or furniture or grills or whatever. I can’t really fathom the things she finds. She has magical yard sale skills. This one time at a yard sale I saw a picture frame that was really beat up. And also a weird shelf to hang on the wall. I did not buy either of them.

This was a slow week, because the Farmer’s Market is also open on Wednesdays during the summer, and we bought some fruit on Wednesday and also some yellow zucchinis and also tomatoes. In fact, for dinner last night, we had a meal that consisted entirely of Farmer’s Market food: lima beans, grilled yellow zucchini, and sliced tomato. But I still needed to go on Saturday and get my whole wheat organic pita from Zaytoon ($2.00 - we eat a lot of hummus, and this is the best pita ever. Mike even made pita chips on July 4th to go with the black bean hummus/dip he made). I also got two bunches of onions ($1.50/each) and two green peppers ($.75/each). Total for this week? $6.50.

(Just so you know, I didn’t use the flash in that picture. We have a small skylight in our kitchen, and the food was basically right under it when I took the picture. That is why it looks so bright.)

Speaking of the fruit that I purchased, there is a pie in the oven right now! I got up and made a pie. Mike came into the kitchen and I was rolling out pie crust. I did this instead of going running, which was probably not the smartest move I have ever made. Speaking of the oven, I will have to show you our oven/microwave combo sometime. You will be amazed at its 1970s glory. And you will understand why we have already purchased another one to replace it.

We have been using white vinegar as a cleaner the past few months. Mike asked if I would consider using a more natural fabric softener, so I tried it there and thought it was fine. Then I started using it to mop the floors. And clean the sink. And the tub. It’s all-purpose! One bottle to clean everything!

Obviously, when we were going to take down wallpaper and I saw that vinegar could be used to help get rid of the glue, I thought, “Hey, we have plenty of that around here!” It seemed to work pretty well, I thought, with the added bonus that everything smelled so fresh and clean in the hall where we were working. When I expressed that thought, that love of the clean fresh smell, my aunt said, “I think it smells like pickles.”

Which . . . is a drawback I hadn’t really considered.

Mike and I could have stayed home last night when we realized that the fireworks would, in fact, be taking place despite the thunderstorm that passed over Greensboro around 9:00. But that is not how fireworks work in this house, so we headed back out with our umbrellas and our camping chairs and our flashlight to our secret fireworks watching spot in order to get our fix for the year. Sure, there are fireworks every weekend at the baseball games, but it’s not the same as sitting in an undisclosed location and watching a fireworks show.

And, I know I joke about the fireworks being for me, but it is part of the tradition, those fireworks that usher in my birthday. They make me feel like a kid, with the noise and the wonder of it all, bringing back all those memories of sticky, humid nights waiting by the car to see the explosions in the sky. They remind me of my dad, who helped us shoot bottle rockets and bought us sparklers. It’s just not summer without them.

Today we celebrate America’s Independence. Or the Eve of My Birthday. It just depends on who you are. Mike celebrated this morning by putting on the one, the only, the flag bandana. We miss you, Scott.

We also celebrated by spending over three hours at Lowe’s this morning. Our cabinets have been ordered, but I think several years were also taken off my life. Holy Moses. We are very thankful to have new cabinets on order, but, for one thing, all the little charges for extra things make me feel like I am being scammed. And for another thing, no one should have to spend over three hours in Lowe’s, what with the constant beeping and the customers needing assistance in the glass cutting area. I requested silence on the way home.

Now we are about to head to a cookout, and then, of course, fireworks, Gandalf! Happy 4th of July or Happy Independence Day, whichever you prefer. Or, you know, Happy Birthday Eve to me.

1. A washing machine that works. I have spared you the saga of the washing machine, but let’s just say that the one that was here was installed improperly. After trying several things, the team composed of me, Mike, and my brother finally managed to diagnose the complete problem and the two of them fixed it yesterday. It now sounds like a normal washing machine rather than a freight train. Also, I feel comfortable hanging pictures on the wall, which I didn’t when it was rattling about.

2. Wallpaper when it is no longer on the wall. Our hall looks so much better. As my mom said yesterday, “Wallpaper is evil.” The actual paper came off in nice big strips, but we had to do some soaking/scraping on the glue. We primed the walls last night and might actually get a coat of paint on today before . . .

3. Going to see Bloody Blackbeard at Triad Stage tonight. We’re looking forward to it!

4. Family to help with projects. My brother worked several times on the washing machine, my mom has been a champion painter and wallpaper-taker-downer, and my aunt came and helped with wallpaper yesterday as well. I don’t know what we would have done without their help this week. They have gone way above and beyond the call of duty. Or . . . blood. Whatever, you know what I mean. We can probably never repay them.

5. Friends who help you, too. Our friends who have helped us move and paint have also gone way above and beyond. And we are really thankful for them.

6. Running in my new neighborhood. Sweet, blessed trees. I can run later than I used to be able to, just because of the trees keeping it so cool. Also, there are many different roads to explore rather than the one route I ran for years at the old house. Also also, if I want to, I can run to Emily’s house and make her give me coffee. Because I am very demanding like that. (I ran in her cul-de-sac this morning but did not stop. hee hee hee.)

7. Getting to hear Mike’s radio show. Local readers, this summer Mike has a radio show on WQFS on Wednesday nights from 10:00-12:00. In the past, I have never gotten to hear it live, because I always had to work on Thursdays and also WQFS does not broadcast quite as far away as we used to live. But now we live five minutes from the station, and I listened last night as I was cleaning up from the great wallpaper tearing down party. He played about four songs in a row for me.

8. The brick wall. Okay, so, our sunroom was kind of a disaster when we bought the house. It was added on to the back of the house, which was very obvious by the walls. Three of the walls were dark paneling, and the other wall was brick. Not nice brick, but “this wall used to be the outside of the house” brick. I don’t understand why anyone would think any of that was fun or nice, but, you know, okay. Mike was skeptical about painting the brick, but I wore him down, and I think he is happy with it now. Andrea spent an afternoon priming it with me, and then my mom and I spent a day painting it and basically making it look awesome. We also painted the paneling, and it looks nice, too, but I am just so proud of my brick wall. The room is so much warmer. Next week we are going to work on trim in that room, but at least the walls are done, glory hallelujah.

While not the actual brick wall, this is what the brick wall looked like (and, thus, the brick on the outside of our house).

And here is a shot of what it looks like now. Please ignore the fact that we haven’t painted the window white yet. And thus there is some touching up to do there. The color, in case you were wondering, is Bronze Tone by Benjamin Moore.

9. Even though I have been busy moving, my friends and family have not forgotten that it is my Birthday Week. And I love them for that. I was kind of afraid my Birthday Week would have to go uncelebrated this year, but, nay! Celebrations will still be taking place. This one’s kind of important, too. My last year in my 20s. (Next year I will be celebrating the first anniversary of my 29th birthday.)

Now that we live here in the middle of everything, it is suddenly possible for me to see my students when I go out and run errands. We don’t live in my school’s district, but Target and Barnes and Noble are, you know, the kinds of places where people often are. Including my students. I saw two at Barnes and Noble Tuesday morning and one at Target that afternoon. Three! In one day! I told Mike that we should start playing a game to see who sees more students each time we go out. Even though my school has about three times the amount of students his does and I interact with more students than he does, this is fair because we live in his school’s district (let me be frank: there is a school zone sign in our front yard that is for his school. We are talking two tenths of a mile here) and so all the neighborhood kids go there. I still think I can win. And that is what’s important.

One set of neighbors came over and introduced themselves on Monday night. They brought cookies, and they have adorable children, so those points are in their favor. They came over while Brian and Sarah were here, bringing us dinner. I can sense your jealousy because we are totally racking up on the free food. But, seriously, I am pretty sure that bringing us dinner this week will get you stars in your crown in heaven, because I don’t know what we would have done if they hadn’t brought us dinner. Probably eaten microwave popcorn. We were really focused on the painting.

I didn’t take “before” pictures because, well, the camera was still at the old house when we started painting and attacking the carpet. (Those are two separate things there. We painted the walls. We did not attack the carpet with paint. Though I might have if I’d thought about it. And we haven’t gotten to the wallpaper yet. We took Tuesday off.) Also, all those things I mentioned last week about style make me kind of shy about posting pictures of my house. So I probably won’t show you much of our progress, because you won’t be able to fully understand the scope of what is going on here. But I do want to show you pictures of the brick wall that we painted in our sunroom, because I am especially proud of it. So if you are into that sort of thing, stay tuned for that.

This was posted last week, so maybe you have seen it already, but here is a video from Gizmodo showing the Lego vault, where they keep almost every set that Lego has ever created. The post accompanying it is great, too–I feel the same way about Legos and still get them as presents from time to time. We had to take apart my Hogwarts castle in order to move, and it made me kind of sad. I don’t know what to do with all of my Legos, really, because we don’t really have a place to display them, but I don’t want to take them apart. I suppose I should just disassemble them and put them in separate bags with the instructions so that we can discover them again with our kids one day. If we never have kids, maybe I could just set up one room as a Lego shrine. I am sure Mike would love that.

I actually almost teared up watching the video. I spent a lot of my childhood playing with Legos. They remind me of Grandma’s house, my cousin David, and Christmas. All at once. Together, my brother and I had an awesome Lego town, complete with a house I built from spare Legos at my grandma’s house. He had a Robin Hood set, and we had a few of the knight sets. It was fun to have the knights guarding the town and other strange things. Joseph also had some space Legos, now that I think about it. I got especially excited when the video showed the pirate ship. I didn’t have the pirate ship, but I did have the Eldorado Fortress (I had to do some googling to figure out what it was called). It was definitely my favorite of all my Lego sets.

Mike’s nephew loves pirates and Legos, and I am so sad they don’t make the pirate Legos anymore. They were the best. Bring back the pirate Legos! (Mike’s nephew may be getting Indiana Jones Legos for his birthday this year. It’s never too early to indoctrinate him on the greatness of Indiana Jones. And Legos.)

This is how our mortgage is written up. My wife and I are very happy with our new house, by the way.

Yesterday all of our belongings were moved into the new house. Before we went to bed last night, I made lists of the things that need to be done in each room. I also made lists of overall things to be done and, finally, a list of things that had to happen on Sunday. Now that it is Sunday, I have resorted to writing things like, “Take shower,” and, “Make coffee,” just so I can cross them off.

Mike and I spent much of Friday afternoon/evening uncovering the hardwood floors in the front room of our new house. We pulled up the carpet, then got to work pulling out the staples and tacks. This is not the sort of thing we claim to be very good at, so it was especially satisfying to be able to say that we completed the task. The floors are in very good condition - no stains or discolorations. No real scratches, either, except where we had trouble pulling up the tacks. We had to finish the task by flashlight, as there are no overhead lights in that room and we haven’t yet brought any lamps here. Lamps will be here today, along with the rest of our furniture and belongings. About halfway through, we realized we should have taken a before picture so that we would have evidence of all of our work. Since we didn’t, you’ll just have to trust me. What a difference. I have spent many years objecting to hardwood floors, and, to be honest, I really do prefer carpet because I like both sitting on the floor (as I am now) and walking around barefoot. But it’s just wrong to cover up hardwood floors as pretty as these.

This house is a bit of a fixer-upper, it’s true. For many years we said that we needed to live somewhere new so there wouldn’t be as many things to fix, but we have had a little more practice, so we felt a little bit more ready to try. And we have so many plans and dreams for this place, plans and dreams that start today. When we start taking down that godawful wallpaper. Which is something else we’ve never done before.

Oh, internet. Have my comments about boxes got you wondering about our house and how we put it on the market? We put it on the market. And then people came to look at it, and we went to a coffeeshop and used the internet while the people were looking, and then we came back after two hours and those people were still at our house so we had to stake out the place like crazy stalkers to figure out when we were going to get to go home again but maybe those nice people would buy our house! Well, those nice people did not buy our house. But some other nice people did put an offer on our house, and we accepted it, and then we picked out a house to move into, and our offer on that house was accepted. Yay! Mike and I went to pick out cabinets because, yay, we are going to redo the kitchen in the new house! We discovered that Lowe’s is not my favorite place, what with all the decisions about countertops and knobs. Those decisions cannot be made by someone like me, someone who has no idea whatsoever about color or style. I cannot pick out things like that. However, I will be happy to help you pick out a good book. In exchange, could you please help me pick out those things? Before I stab myself in the eye with this possible option for the drawer handle? Other than that, things were great! We were going to move! And have a shiny new kitchen!

Except. Then things started to go all wrong with the buyers’ paperwork and we spent a month without knowing anything at all. A whole month. At first I was a little uncomfortable with that, but mostly I was okay. As the month wore on and school ended and I worked on my summer class, I did not remain mostly okay. I lost my freaking mind.

This spring, Mike and I have had several discussions about adversity. For one thing, I do not handle adversity as well as some people do. And for another, I feel as if the past few years have been quite enough adversity for me, thankyouverymuch, not to mention any baggage I might be carrying from before that that I still haven’t dealt with. I have worked out an uneasy truce with God over the past two years, and I have been willing to concede that maybe he isn’t really out to get me, maybe he doesn’t really save all his good gifts for other people, and, to sum up, he’s not so bad after all. I know that selling our house isn’t the worst kind of adversity in the world. It is, however, stressful, and it has brought out the absolute worst in me, the insecurities and the selfishness that I didn’t even know that I had. And the fear. And the anger, oh the anger. I know that I can have a temper, but I did not know that I was so angry. It has not been a great time to be my husband or my mother, let me tell you. They had to listen to quite a lot of that anger, and they didn’t have good answers because life is full of more good questions than it is good answers. Funnily enough, this anger is one of those things that has brought me and my brother closer, because I was not as patient with him as I could have been when he was angry about some similar things a few years ago. That was partly because he was processing some things I was not ready to deal with, and partly because I just didn’t understand what he was going through. But I understand now.

On Sunday at church, part of the call to worship was about risk. We have had some conversations about risk, especially when we thought the house was going to fall through. Should we do the two mortgage thing? Should we lease the house to someone? I vetoed everything as “too risky.” Fed up with our lack of options, Mike reminded me that sometimes we have to take risks. But in order to take risks, I think you have to have the sort of faith that I’m not really able to manage right now, faith that someone out there cares. There are all sorts of things that I say that I believe about God - that he’s “not safe,” that he’s a wild lover of our souls. But I also want him to work in some sort of system. If we follow these steps and are responsible with our finances, shouldn’t everything work out? If that’s the case, why should I take any kind of risk? I will stick with the program.

Except. The program doesn’t work. I can be as responsible as I want, and that doesn’t mean anything. We may put money into retirement and eat tons of organic food, but that’s no guarantee that we won’t die young. And I don’t know what to do with that.

I haven’t talked about any of this because I didn’t have any perspective on it. I was covered up in shame about our lack of progress, I was angry, and I felt forgotten by God. I was lonely, because I didn’t even know where to begin talking about this to my friends. I prayed for better news and I got no response whatsoever. I lost hope that things were going to work out. Normally my pessimism and Mike’s optimism are a good balance, as I keep him grounded and he keeps me upbeat, but the lack of concrete information and my pessimism affected both of us, and he spent some sleepless nights worrying as well. There is a song on Eef Barzelay’s new album, Lose Big, that Mike has deemed the Kari Theme Song. It’s called “Could Be Worse.”

Show me the bright side and I’ll look ’til my eyes catch fire
And please forgive me if I leave you feeling uninspired
My only pleasure is to make that bubble burst
I can’t find comfort in the fact that it could be worse

Don’t tell me there’s so many things for which I should be glad
And I’m truly sorry if I made your party guests feel bad
Could be I think too much or maybe I’m just cursed
I can’t find comfort in the fact that it could be worse

In the past few week, though, it all slid back into place as quickly as it fell apart. (And then fell apart. And then slid back into place, fell apart, and slid back into place in rapid succession.) I am left feeling a little bit embarrassed at my histrionics, especially since I can’t pinpoint exactly why I think that the rug is always about to be pulled out from under me, why I can’t trust that there is some kind of plan. Nor do I know exactly where all the anger suddenly came from. I had kind of thought I was over the anger thing. I guess the anger thing is more a part of the human condition than I had realized. Or at least my human condition.

And so, we signed papers on our old house and the new house on Thursday. Our belongings are packed, we have purchased new appliances, and with the assistance of my aunt and my mother, we chose cabinets and tile and countertops for our shiny new-to-us kitchen. Even with the papers signed, I am afraid to trust those things, but I am trying to find joy and thankfulness in my heart. I am thankful for all the people who let me cry and complain and fail over the past few months, and I am thankful for my family and all the help they are giving us, and I am thankful and excited about the new house and the new kitchen and the new paint colors (chosen by someone Mike used to work with, not me, don’t worry) and all the things we are going to get to do over the next few months.

I hope one day I will be given the grace to trust and hope without fear. For now, I will settle for the opportunity to get up and try again tomorrow.

I am intimidated by people who have a strong sense of personal style, whether it’s their house or their clothes or . . . what else can you have a sense of style about? Your car? My car’s style is “dirty.” I am clearly uninformed about style. My personal style ranges from preppy button-downs to rebellious Doc Martens, depending on the day. (Are Doc Martens still rebellious, or are my flannel shirts and I still stuck in 1994?) When it comes to our house, Mike has a stronger vision for who we are, but that mostly comes from the fact that he worked for a while for an interior designer. Other than that, I think the message our house sends is: “Hand-Me-Down.” One of my dreams is to someday actually buy a couch of our own, rather than having the one that Mike’s sister decided to get rid of. And also, I dream of recovering the infamous Big Chair (which might be happening very soon!). I love the Big Chair, not least because it cost $100 at the Salvation Army (a steal!), but . . . even though its plaid is part of its charm, I think it would be nice if it was a little less . . . plaid.

As we have spent some time organizing and cleaning out over the past few months, I have been getting rid of gifts/hand-me-downs that we’ve kept around for a long time. This makes me feel good, but then I read blogs (I should know better than to do this) by people who have very specific ideas about what they want to put on their walls and in their houses. How does one know these things? Is this because I work outside the home? Would I be better at this if I was at home a little bit more? (Answer: No. You will never be good at it. You are just not wired that way. Thanks for playing, though.)

My guess is that I don’t know how to do these things in part because I don’t like shopping. I am not tempted to buy things because they are cute. I go in with a list, I get the things on my list, and I get out. I don’t even see the cute things, because they are not on my list. As I have mentioned, I don’t like yard sales. I tried, people. I have been to yard sales. I don’t need my own junk, though, so I certainly don’t need someone else’s. If I had to hazard a guess about my own preferences, I think that I can say that I would rather save up my money and get something nice that I have picked out than get something at a yard sale that I have to do something to. Also, I am big on causes. For furniture, this has meant that we saved to buy American made furniture for our bedroom. Which unfortunately costs more than Rooms to Go. Meanwhile, since I do not like to spend money on myself, I would rather just go without.

As we have been house hunting, this whole style thing has caused me great consternation. I want a house that fits us, but I am not sure exactly who we are. I see things like Dooce’s Daily Style and I wonder how anyone has the time to have a daily style. I would run out of cute things about my house after a month or so. And start posting pictures of books. “This book is also awesome! You should totally read it. That is my style recommendation for the day. It will make your brain very stylish.” I don’t do crafts. And I don’t like to spend money. So mostly I go without, and our home continues to be a barren home for hand-me-downs. At least we have a lot of books.

I think that I am still learning who I am and how I define myself. This is one of those areas where I feel very behind the curve. Thinking about my house and my style makes me feel the same way I did when I moved into my dorm room and everyone else had all these awesome gadgety dorm room things and I hadn’t even remembered to bring a rug. I could see very clearly that there was a whole world I did not understand. The question, as always, is whether I let that feeling of inferiority define me, whether I just go along with what everyone else likes, or whether I take the time to decide who I am and what I want. And whether I will have the confidence to believe that who I am and what I want are okay, even if they don’t seem to measure up to other people’s standards.

I called and visited several stores yesterday in order to get boxes. Boxes that were apparently made of gold. That is how difficult it was to find boxes yesterday. The ABC store is saving boxes for us today, and I have learned the magic trick of getting boxes from Wal-Mart. But McDonald’s, why did you need to be so difficult? Mike called McDonald’s three times asking them to save boxes for him, and every time they said he should call back later and maybe they would have some. And when he called back they’d be like, “Oh, we just threw some away.” Yes, McDonald’s. That’s why we asked you to save them for us. Don’t make Kari come and punch Ronald in the face.

And so, let me sing the praises of Taco Bell and Wendy’s. First, Taco Bell. They didn’t have very many boxes, but they generously gave of what they had. Bless you, Taco Bell. May your gordita sales increase tenfold. And Wendy’s! Wendy’s totally gets extra stars in their crown, because the manager at Wendy’s actually went and emptied out her french fry boxes so that I could have them. Also, she called me “sweetheart.” I told her she was my hero.

And why do we need so many boxes, anyway? Where did we get all of these belongings? These are the deep questions that everyone has when they are moving. What IS this thing and why do I own it? (But don’t throw it away. You’ll need it next month. I promise. That is, you’ll need it . . . if you throw it away. If you keep it, all bets are off.)

Eef Barzelay’s new CD has a song called “I Love the Unknown,” which was also on the Clem Snide CD Your Favorite Music. We are big Eef fans in this house, and I have been listening to his new CD a lot. As I was singing “I Love the Unknown” in the shower one morning, I had to laugh at myself. I am about as far from loving the unknown as any person can be, and even Eef Barzelay can’t trick me into throwing caution to the wind and taking a bus to “the place with the most allure,” wherever that might be. I like my ordered existence, and I like lists and plans, and I happen to think that’s a perfectly acceptable way to live. The unknown is a scary place, full of . . . things that are unknown. Let me get my calendar out and we can schedule some things instead. The past few weeks have been particularly bad specifically because many, many things have been up in the air.

But then, there’s the end of the song, the part that goes like this:

The doctor asked him what he was afraid of,
just what was he running from?
He said, “It’s not a fear of success, nor of closeness,
but of going through life feeling numb.”

Well, that might be a little bit Fight Club, but maybe the man does have a point there. As much as I like my ordered existence, my routine, sometimes I feel as if life is passing me by and I am not paying attention. There is always something to get through, something we must do that we would prefer not to do, and so we count the days away rather than embracing the time that we have.

I learned a lot of things from my dad: how to drive a stick shift, how to change the oil in my car, how to hammer a nail. Those are all useful, but he also taught me about life and about shaking things up. I have talked before about how he would take us out of school to have a day with him at the mall or at the fair or just on his delivery route. I certainly value those days spent with him in his truck more than I would have remembered whatever I missed that day at school. When you have a family, it’s hard to say that you love the unknown, because you are looking out for more than just yourself. But my dad would never have advocated going through life being numb. He loved fiercely, he cared about people, and he wanted more for me than feeling bogged down by the life going on around me, wishing the days away until the next milestone.

When I took my new job, I wasn’t sure that my dad would have approved. He saw how hard my mom worked as a teacher, and he did not want the same for me. But I know he would have approved of some of my reasons, including wanting to be able to spend more time with my friends and family, especially in the summer. This is my first chance to catch a breath in a while, and as the calendar of our summer stretches out in front of us, so many days left to fill, I have to admit that I don’t mind that sort of unknown quite as much. I appreciate this summer more than I did when I was used to having summers off all the time. I am going to do my best to make it count.

On my run this morning, I saw a box turtle who was sitting in the street. I watched him for a minute to see if he was going to move, but he just sat there. As turtles do. I got a little bit worried, because he was right where a tire would go, and it sounded as if there were trucks approaching. I nudged him with my foot, and he pulled all of his legs inside his shell, leaving the tip of his head sticking out. I could see the truck around a curve in the road, so I grabbed my new turtle friend (his head went in the shell) and set him by the side of the road. When I came back by, he was still on the side of the road. I am sorry for traumatizing you, Mr. Turtle, but I was trying to keep you safe. I could have brought you home to play (race) with Big Bunny, but I don’t think you would have liked that so much. (Though word on the street is that you would win in the end.)

I have a soft spot in my heart for turtles. My grandmother had two that lived in her backyard, and she marked them with nail polish - one with a K and one with a J. Whenever we went to visit, she would take us to the backyard to see if we could find the turtles. This can partly explain my passion for the tortoises at the zoo, I suppose. They’re so funny, how they walk and how the eat.

Anyway, my good deed for the day is done. I saved a turtle from destruction. If you need me for anything, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.

Gentle readers, this is a post from Mike. Enjoy.

—

Here’s a first. Greetings to all of Kari’s dedicated readers. As you may know, Kari tagged me yesterday on the movie post. I remember talking to her on the way home from Ben and Jerry’s Friday night trying to come up with what our favorite movies were. I did agree that one of the greatest joys we will have in raising children would be introducing them to incredible cinematic masterpieces. I do not see us showing The Wizard of Oz to our 5 year-old child. They just wouldn’t get it. They would not understand the importance of it. How it changed cinema as well as the lives of innumerable children for close to a century. The same goes for Citizen Kane. And To Kill a Mockingbird. The latter two are important works, but they need to be understood and prefaced before any viewing is done.

Have I gotten off the subject? Hang with me. The movies on our list will be monumental moments in our lives (and hopefully our children’s lives), so they cannot be shown lightly. These movies are very important to us and can’t be shown in the same way our child might watch Finding Nemo or Toy Story. We want to instill a deep respect for cinema and how cinema has an immense impact on those who value it.

It was tough coming up with this list because I have to leave off so many important films. Important in the history of cinema and important in my life as well. I don’t know if the Coen Brothers will make the list, but their movies are incredible (Raising Arizona was the first PG-13 movie I saw—I snuck into the theater with a friend). And what about the guy movies? How do I choose between Braveheart, The Matrix, and Gladiator? They can’t all be on the list because I need room for comedies and musicals. Musicals? Yeah, musicals. To without further ado:

The rules are as follows:
1. List your top ten favorite films in no particular order.
2. If you’re tagged, post your list and tag 3-5 other people.
3. Link back to the person who tagged you.
4. Give a hat tip (HT) to Dan.

• The Godfather Parts I and II: When I saw Once back in August, it dawned on me that movies can be adopted as your outlook on important areas of your life. I came up with 5 categories: God/Religion, Family, Relationships, Music, and Humanity. If I could pick one movie for each area, what would it be? The Godfather movies would represent my outlook on family. I want to be the kind of father that would do anything to protect my family, to stick up for what I believe it right. These movies are marvels to watch and study.

Dan, you are looking dapper today.

• The Princess Bride: I was very tempted to make sure Kari and I didn’t have any movies that agreed in our top ten. That way we would have 20 different movies that we just could not wait to show our kids. However, there a couple of choices that I could not leave off, no matter how much I wanted to twist the data. This is a perfect movie. The grandpa got it right when he said, “Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles.” The movie has it all. It is inconceivable how a movie could be this good.

• High Fidelity: “My desert island, all-time, top-five most memorable breakups, in chronological order, are as follows:” Most of us have them: Breakups, heartaches, meltdowns. This movie is the movie that represents my outlook on relationships. Rob’s blundering, self-centered actions that lead to some gray self-revelation about what love might be strikes a chord (where do I come up with these). And this might be Jack Black’s best role ever.

• 12 Monkeys: I love apocalyptic films. When I was making that other list back in August, I had to choose what movie would represent my view on humanity. This was one of the two movies that were in the running. (Would I choose hopeful or apocalyptic?) I love that 5 billion people died and just a handful of humans are left. There’s time-travel and scary music. Brad Pitt is amazing and not at all attractive in this roll. I’d like to put 2 Terry Gilliam works on this list, but I don’t know if it will work out. This was my all-time favorite movie for quite a number of years (you notice how all-time lists change so frequently?), but I think The Godfather could have eclipsed it. As an added bonus, let me tell you that this movie is even more enjoyable in black and white.

• Pulp Fiction: I wouldn’t show this to my children until they were much older, but I would show it to them. This is a fun movie. And it’s stylish. And it has so many layers. With its homage to great cinematic directors, its out-of-sync plot, its Tarantino dialogue and its attention to details, you can’t help but get something new from this movie each time you watch it.

• Millions: Another movie that Kari and I agree on. This movie is on that other list I mentioned earlier. This movie represents my outlook on Religion and God.

• Braveheart: I don’t know if this movie will age well. I could see it falling off the list at some point. However, for right now, this movie had an incredible impact on me. It impacted several of my friendships over the years. There is something powerful about watching this movie with your guy friends. Kind of like Gladiator and The Matrix (which could easily be on this list had I had honorable mentions).

• Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb: One of the funniest movies I have ever seen. I laugh so hard I cry when I watch this movie. “Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here! This is the War Room.” Brilliant.

• Guys and Dolls: I promised you all a musical. Marlon Brando is incredible in this film. This is a man’s musical if there is such a thing. It’s about a floating crap game and love. I mean how can you resist gamblers spontaneously bursting into song? You can’t!

I honestly don’t know what to put in the last spot. Back to the Future, The Lord of the Rings, Garden State, Brazil, A David Fincher film, a romantic comedy, Heat, The Shawshank Redemption, that movie that I chose as my outlook on humanity (the one that one out over 12 Monkeys)? After much deliberation and much sadness that this list has to end, I give you the last movie to make the list:

• Miller’s Crossing: What is the Coen Brothers’ best film? You can make a case for No Country For Old Men and for Barton Fink and possibly Fargo or The Big Lebowski, but Miller’s Crossing? No. However, I love gangster films and they do a fantastic job with their tribute to the gangster genre. I love how the Coens construct their films and feel that it truly works in this genre. This movie isn’t quotable like many of their other films, but it is beautiful to watch. Many of their go-to actors are in this film, including a brilliant performance by John Turturro. Do you remember that scene in Home Alone when Kevin decides to watch that movie his parents didn’t want him to watch? Remember that mob boss? Well, Albert Finney’s performance really reminds me of that crazy guy who gives you to the count of ten to get out of his office. He just plays the mob boss to perfection. “You ain’t got