The Best of Pancakes and Tea

I've been feeling less than inspired lately. And when I feel uninspired, I always go back and re-read old articles in this blog. Sometimes I can't believe how smart I used to be. And occasionally I feel like I've definitely done some serious backsliding in my relationship with God. I feel like I've been calling more and more on myself, and less and less on him.

So, sometimes it helps me to remind myself of all of the wise thoughts I've had in the past. I figured I'd to back and find "the best of" in the last 4 or so years of this blog. Some are thoughtful. Some clever. Some just silly. But these are some of my favorites. Maybe you will enjoy them.

The Procrastination Station
The one that started it all.

I Got Used to Sweatpants
The one about sweatpants.

The Jesus I Serve
The one where I don't get to define Jesus.

This Stupid, Stupid Wind
The one where I have a bad day.

I Have Hidden Your Word in My Heart, And I Misplaced it
The one where I begrudgingly relate to David.

Love Letters
The one that's a total metaphor about God's word.

Never, Ever, Ever Give Up
The one where I accomplished my [then] life's goal.

My Hero
The one about heroes.

New Years Resolutions
The one about not making excuses.

Mr. Orkin: Man of My Dreams
The one about my future husband.

Of a Rather Pressing Note
The one where I tell Scott Toilet Tissue what is what.

When I Start to Miss Michigan
The one where I realize I can be happy in Oklahoma as long as I'm trusting God.

A Serious Addiction
The one where I confess my undying love for Rocky Balboa

Living in the Past

I have a really good memory.

I have a really good memory when it comes to things that happened a long time ago, that is. Memories, for me, are most often triggered by smells. After familiar smells come memories of touch. If something feels familiar it will most likely trigger a memory. The third trigger is taste--although I have a hard time specifically placing familiar tastes to specific foods or items. I place the taste with the event to which it belongs. The last two senses (sight and sound) least often trigger memories, but neither dominates the other.

I have a lot of really really good memories. And I tend to just bask in them quite often because they make me feel good. I don't tend to express emotion very often (unless I'm watching The Biggest Loser....go figure!), and aside from perpetual cheerfulness the only other side people really get to see me express is what I would call "flustered." Pretty much I'm either always excited, or occasionally flustered. With certain exceptions I'm rarely sad, angry, moody, etc.

I think the reason I tend to live so much in my memories is because when I'm remembering them, they tend to make me feel. They tend to make me feel when real life just doesn't.

This morning I was out pulling weeds in my side yard. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, even though it was only about 65 degrees. It was cloudy, thunder was faintly rumbling in the distance, and a little sprinkle would hit me every now and again. And it all seemed very familiar. I could hear the drops trickling through the leaves in the trees, and a bird squawking about something or other. Something about this seemed very familiar. It reminded me of when my family would go camping every summer in Indiana.

We'd wake up in the morning, and it would be cool, crisp, and a little damp from the morning's dew. A bird or two would be chatting, but other than that it was pretty quiet. It was cool enough that it wouldn't be crazy to wear pants until it warmed up; but since it was summer, we usually just wore shorts. Our cousins were just a campsite or two over, and we'd join up at grandma's campsite for breakfast. We'd go back to our campsite and grab our slightly damp swimsuits off the clothesline and put them on because, surely, within the next few hours we'd be headed for the lake to go swimming and make sandcastles. Then, in a little while, maybe we'd hop on our bikes and ride over to the one random set of cousins who somehow managed to get a site all the way on the other side of the park (it seemed to be a different set every year). Those days we just played. We were outside, rain or shine, together, and I never remember being bored.

Days like this don't happen very often in Oklahoma. And I am so grateful when they do. A cloudy, cool, day spattered with raindrops and thunder can be good for everybody once in a while.

I've always liked the rain. And I especially like it in Oklahoma because (this week aside) it doesn't come terribly often. But when it comes it reminds me that God does provide. And he knows what this land needs. And he knows what I need. And, even when it seems bothersome or doesn't make sense, his timing is everything.

Love Ya Like A Sister

For those of you who know me well, you will know that I have a twin. Her name is Jennifer and she lives in Montana. We're not identical, and we actually didn't meet until I was 23 and she was 24. And we met in; of all places; Edmond, Oklahoma.

We met, and almost instantly bonded. We migrated toward each other like some miraculous unknown force of gravity and after much comtemplation and examination we figured that we were clearly just twins separated at birth. Jennifer and I would go on adventures together, and took much delight in dressing alike. Friday nights were Twin IHOP Bible Study Nights, and we'd dress alike, go to IHOP and stay there for hours talking and doing our Bible Studies. We had a monthly tradition of getting matching pedicures that would help us represent and celebrate whatever holiday or occasion that happened that month. Jennifer and I both enjoyed running, and would frequently run around our neighborhood together. We would talk about how one day when were were grown up we would be neighbors and best friends and have dueling inflatable lawn decorations. Our husbands would most likely also be twins--just like us--so we could all be a happy twin family.
We started gettin really serious about planning our future when we discovered that we had a tremendous amount of musical talent between the two of us and immediately began recordning our upcoming Valentine's Day release, "Greatest Love Songs of All Time." We had a great piano/clarinet/vocal arrnagement of A Whole New World in the works. And plans for Total Eclispse of the Heart, Bicycle Built for Two, and other romantic classics like America the Beautiful and The Star Spangled Banner. As you can see, Jennifer and I have a very special relationship. It rivals that of Mary-Kate and Ashley, Zack and Screech, Will and Grace, or even Cheech and Chong (minus any drug reference, of course). I always assumed we were one of a kind. No other twins out there like us; until I came across this lovely pair:

I'm pretty sure that they are our British, and boy counterparts. And one day if we ever meet them, I'm sure we will be best friends immediately and forever.

In related news: Jennifer and I will most likely turn our efforts to video-recording, in addition to our audio releases. Because I think we will make people feel better about themselves. Because laughter is the best medecine--and Jennifer and I are most certainly the BEST!

We Will Never Forget

Last weekend I went downtown with my friend, Chelsea.

I took her to the OKC Memorial, and we walked around.

It always takes my breath away. Every time I see it. Even though it didn't ever impact me personally.

It happened ten years before I even moved here.

I remember coming down here to visit my cousins and my aunt taking us downtown to show us all the buildings that had fallen. I will never forget seeing all that rubble, even though I can't say it really moved me.

So this time, when Chelsea and I went to the Memorial, we were looking at the tiles that kids from the US had sent to Oklahoma to show their support.

As a student, probably in the 5th grade, I do not remember doing anything for Oklahoma.

I don't really even remember us even talking about it that much.

But looking at these drawings, I remembered that Oklahoma is called the Heartland.

And I remembered that we live in a country where unity matters.

I was reminded that if any one part of the body is hurting, other parts need to compensate to help it heal.

And I realized that I have such unnecessary spite for Oklahoma. Just because it doesn't have trees. And it doesn't grow apples. And it has cowboys. And that's not any way to treat any part of this country in which I am so lucky to live. Not even Texas.

I'm sorry, Oklahoma.

I'm sorry that you had to be hurt so badly.

But I love that a stupid bomb couldn't kill you.

And I love that even when I wasn't helping, people from everywhere were helping you heal.

I'll be running for you in April.

26.2 miles is the least I can do.

Sometimes God Decides to Yell

Before I found a teaching job, I worked at a hospital. I've never had any real desire to go into medicine, or work in the medical field, but when a good friend from church asked me if I'd ever considered being a Nurse Assistant I shrugged my shoulders and said I'd think about it. She explained that the job didn't require any training that I wouldn't receive on site. I would also receive medical benefits through the hospital (now I was interested), and it paid $12.50 an hour (definitely interested!).
I went in for an interview and a couple weeks later started training from 7-3:30, Monday through Friday for two weeks. I learned first aid; CPR/AED; how to change bedding, diapers, and bedpans; universal precautions; air and bloodborne pathogens; taking vitals and everything in between. It was pretty boring. After two weeks of classes, I got to go up to the med/surge floor and shadow another nurse assistant.
I got put on the day shift, which meant I worked from 7am to 7:30 pm 3 days a week and every other weekend. After I was ready to be out from under the wing of my mentor, I for some reason got switched to work every weekend. It worked out that way because in order to have enough hours to still be full-time, I had to put in both weekends and one mid-week day. I got pretty upset because working the day shift every weekend meant I had to miss church.

Enter God, one Sunday morning when my attitude started to get the better of me.
Fact 1: None of these patients get to be at church either.

The typical morning routine was to check everyone's vital signs and record them. Then, after vitals was breakfast. Depending on the mobility of the patients, my role varied. For some, I would just wish them a good breakfast and make sure they had everything they needed. Others needed their food cut up for them. And then there were the patients who could not feed themselves. These patients I sat down next to and patiently spooned food into their mouths as they indicated they were ready for another bite.
Fact 2: Serving breakfast sometimes literally constitutes as serving.

After breakfast, it was time to make sure everyone was cleaned up and the bed sheets got changed. Again, depending on the mobility of the patients, my roles were very different. Some patients went to take their own showers, and I changed their beds in a couple minutes. Other patients got wheeled to the large shower down the hall and tried not to shiver as I soaped them up and hosed them down. Their beds got changed, also pretty easily, and they were assisted back into a clean bed. But then there were the patients who could not move at all. They still needed to be bathed. This is where I would fill a small tub with warm sudsy water, close the curtains, and try to gently--yet thoroughly--clean their bodies and dry, cover, and dress them before they have a chance to get too cold. While bathing, the sheets have to be changed while the patient is still in the bed, so a lot of carefully timed rolling and turning is involved.
Fact 3: Taking care of someone in their most vulnerable state makes you realize no one has to see you in yours.

After baths, the day goes by pretty quickly. There's no routine to it, if someone needs something the call light will go on and a nurse or assistant will go answer the call. I learned really quickly that many of the people with whom I worked did not want to be there. I learned really quickly that some people will ignore a blinking call light, hoping the next person will pick it up.
Fact 4: These patients don't want to be there either.

Once all of these facts were falling into place, I realized that even though I wasn't able to serve God at church I needed to be serving. I needed to be a servant to the patients under my care. And literally from that moment on, I loved my job. I worked hard to make sure that I was always pleasant, patient, and kind when a call light went off. If I could do nothing else to help these people get better, I could serve them genuinely, wholly, and willingly. Whether it was the patient with C-Diff who needed a diaper and complete sheet change every fifteen minutes, or the patient who needed to be turned every two hours so he would not develop bedsores. The patients who couldn't eat or drink, but who desperately needed oral care; or the patients who just needed somebody to yell at. Patients who had run off every other NA working, or who were so senile they played in their poop before rubbing it all over the bed, and then calling for help. I genuinely enjoyed caring for them, and often was surprised at how quickly my days passed. I knew that when God called me to serve joyfully that if I actually asked to be made into his servant that the result of my willing service would be joy.

I loved that job. I loved it in spite of the poop, the puke, the puss, the impertinence, and the occasional painfulness. Sometimes as a teacher, I forget that it's not about me. It's not about what I want my kids to get out of it. It's about serving them and providing them with the skills they will need to make it outside of my classroom.
Servanthood isn't about what I can do. It's about what I will do. It's about what I am doing.

This morning at church, Mark preached about being a servant. We sang some songs that (if you paid attention) were little prayers asking God to make us servants like him. Those are some pretty hefty shoes to fill. But if you ask God to make you a servant like him, sit back and listen for his instruction. Don't assume you must be a slave to anyone in order to serve him. God will yell it if he has to.
Fact 5: Serving with a joyful heart takes the drive out of the slave driver.

Being "It" Made Me Realize I Miss My Favorite Restaurants.

I got tagged a week or so back my my hilarious friend, Naomi. Clearly, this calls for my response. :)

4 Things I did yesterday:
1. Wore jeans to work
2. Went to cheer on the Pistons, even though they forgot to show up to play actual basketball
3. Cut cheese. And ate it
4. Filled up my car for significantly less than $20.

4 Things on my Wish List:
1. I will one day return to Michigan to live.
2. To run at least one marathon a year until I'm 40
3. To one day get married and have like 4 kids.
4. That pancakes will never stop being my favorite food.

4 Restaurants I like (sadly, none of which I've found in Oklahoma):
1. Buca di Beppo
2. Buddy's Pizza
3. Anything with Medeterranian Cuisine
4. East Side Mario's

4 TV shows I like:
1. Gossip Girl
2. Law and Order: SVU
3. Malcolm in the Middle
4. Psych

I've decided to not tag anyone. Not that I don't care about and what you think. But moreso because a lot of my tag-ee's have already been tagged, or have dissed my tags in the past. Or (niki) don't post anything but professional photograpny on their sites. . .

Oh, and Jennifer--I'll get to that award thing you gave me. . .all in due time.

The Time I Rode the Short Bus Home

I am not one who embarrasses very easily. In fact, I tend to revel in awkward situations. Therefore, be excited: this is my most embarrassing moment to date.

I was in 3rd grade. I rode the bus every day both to and from school, and never minded it. The bus dropped me off at the end of our road, and I'd walk from the bus stop home. It was probably about a ten minute walk, rain or shine. One time I got bit by a dog. It was no big deal. Bus stops are just a part of life.

I remember feeling a tiny twinge of jealousy because the bus driver was a really nice lady and a lot of the kids she would drop off directly at their houses. If she was going to drive by the house anyway, she said she might as well. I was always the last stop, and I was the only one who couln't be dropped off at my house because my street was a dead end. There's no way a bus could get out.

Then, ond day, our bus was broken down. We waited for a little while, and finally our bus driver pulled up. She pulled up, alright. Pulled up in a short bus. I was mortified, but I figured I would suck it up and rirde the short bus if all my other friends had to ride it too. But keep in mind, those windows aren't tinted! What would people think!?

So our bus driver goes through the route, and as per usual I am the last one on the bus. My stop is nearing and I start to gather my things to walk off this nightmare the second she pulls up to the end of my street. We start getting closer, and I notice that she has passed the normal place that she typically turns on her flashers. In fact, we're practically right up on my stop and she's still driving.
No, wait.
She's not still driving....
she's turning.
She's turning right.
She's TURNING DOWN MY STREET!

Sinking lower and lower down into my seat, hoping that I will wake up any second, the bus turns into my driveway. She (seriously) turns on her flashers and opens the door. She smiles at me as I step off the bus and I run into my house.

And you people wonder why I'm so quirky. . . .

Oprah Told Me To Do It.

I don't typically listen to things Oprah says--let alone things she tells me to do. I think overall she's just a tiny bit kooky for my taste. However, yesterday, Oprah told me to do something.

Oprah told me to ask myself a bunch of questions. I don't remember what any of them were except for one: What are you hungry for?

Don't ask me why I suddenly decided that I should listen to Oprah; but before I went to bed last night, I sat down with a pen and notebook and seriously asked myself the question, "What are you hungry for, Kari?"
I started listing things, before each one saying: I'm hungry for. . . or I'm hungry to. . . and by the time I was done I had a list of over 20 things. If I was going to try to be honest and introspective with myself, I figured I would really write it. No matter how trivial.

Oprah didn't tell me what to do next. So I lie there in my bed and looked at my list. It occured to me that only 2 things on my entire list were things in the realm of my control.
2.
Out of 20.

So here's what I took away from it: I am a very hungry person.
But I can physically and mentally only satisfy 10% of my hunger. That leaves me (mathematically) hungry 90% of the time.

I'm thinking that Oprah wanted people to find the source of their hunger so they could conquer it. When you seek what you are truly hungry for, you will not want to fill it with food.
So here's where you step in and say, "Ah, but Kari! That's what's so great! God's word is your daily bread! Your hunger and thirst for righteousness will fill you up!"
Yeah, I already thought of that. That's 5% of my 10. I can't be full on God's word if it's not the only thing I'm hungry for. I've still got 18 other hungers that I can't satiate. Therefore, either I'm always going to fill the need to fill up, or I'm always going to feel empty.

So, literally or figuratively, this is my wisdom:
Next time I'm reaching for food (out of boredom) I need to try to remember what I'm hungry for. Is eating this going to fill me with God's word? Is it going to make me a stronger runner? Is it going to keep my brother healthy? Is it going to give me Michigan? Is it going to de-clutter my parent's house?

I can fill my stomach only so full. But because I listened to Oprah I now have a much better understanding of why I'm not often satisfied. It's because I'm still hungry. And I have to accept that while it's okay to be hungry for things I can't change, no amount of healthy or unhealthy fuel will fill that void. I have to call on outside help.

And I don't mean Oprah.

A Serious Addiction

Everyone has a vice. Some are serious, others may be considered trivial. Some require counseling, others just some good old-fashioned will-power.
My current vice is an addiction. It's one that has only spawned as of very recently; but I can't seem to shake the urge. The urge to watch all of the Rocky movies.

Go ahead, get your giggles out. I am addicted to Rocky.

I can honestly say I never (ever) had any desire to watch the Rocky movies, but something inside me was pricked earlier this summer. A good friend stared at me in disbelief when I told him I'd never seen any of the movies and he announced that we would have a Rocky-Thon when I came back to Michigan over Christmas break. I agreed--mostly because with this particular friend there is always much fun had, no matter what we are doing.
Building up from this summer until this December was the anticipation of watching the Rocky movies; and inexplicably the excitement was mounting. I wanted to see them.

Fast forward to Christmas Eve. I hadn't heard from my friend about our Rocky-Thon, and the movies happened to be on television that night in marathon form. Apparently, that was the best way to watch them. I had missed Rocky I, but I tuned in just in time for the beginning of Rocky II. The movie began, and I had been getting so much greif from my brother and brother in-law about how stupid the movies were I wasn't expecting that much.
However, the movie started, and I was loving it. Not just liking it. Not just okay. I was thoroughly enjoying every single second of it. I was laughing, I was on the edge of my seat, I was in total awe.

I ended up falling asleep shortly into the 3rd movie--but not from boredom. Simply because it was 2 o'clock in the morning, and I was getting very tired of having to turn the volume up during the movie and down during the commercials. That Friday night around 8:30 I called my friend and asked if we could still do the Rocky-Thon even though I was leaving Sunday morning, and Saturday was his birthday. He walked into the front door of my house ten minutes later; and thus began one of the most memorable nights of my life. The beginning of my new-found addiction.

Here's what I love about Rocky:

First, and most obviously, I love the entire basis of his career and fame. I love that even though he didn't win the initial fight with Apollo, what made him a hero was that he kept getting up. He did the impossible, and out-lasted any former opponent. There is something really powerful about that to me. The fact that even though you lose the battle, the war isn't lost. Rocky did something that no other professional fighter had done; and it was enough to make an impact.

Secondly, I love the character of Rocky. I loved that he was just a good guy. He wasn't a jerk, or a punk. He respected people, tried to set an example, and did his best to be his best. He wasn't too bright, but he never got cocky (save his initial TKO in Rocky III). I was honestly very surprised by the humility Rocky maintained throughout the series. I loved his initial innocence with Adrian and trying to woo her. He would just tell her jokes, and try to walk her home. I loved the gentleness she brought out in him, and the development of their entire relationship. I loved how hard he worked when they ran out of money. And I love how nothing was below him, even though he had won fame.

Next, I love the relationship between Adrian and Rocky. I liked her blunt honesty with him, and her ability to be a rock for him while being so understated. When he asked her if she needed help she said, "yes." When he asked her if he looked dumb, she told him. I enjoyed watching Adrian come out of her shell and grow into a strong woman who stood by her husband. I like how she provided strength for him, and he helped her realize her own strength.

Finally, I really really was impressed by the writing. I love that there was so much wit and punch (especially in the first two) to the dialogue. I love that Sylvester Stallone was clever enough to write so well that he could make things come out of Rocky's mouth be so completely innocent and idiotic; but yet so terribly witty and hilarious. I love the part in Rocky II where he says, "you like having a good time, don't you? Then you need a good watch." I love the wordplay there. I laughed every time Rocky told somebody he was proud of him. Or, "good job!" But Stallone was able to keep us believing that he innocently was just saying something casual.

Being such a classic movie, I never realized how many allusions TV shows and movies make to the Rocky series. I have been catching little things here and there on TV all week. I have been constantly reminded of Rocky ever since, and have wanted to watch them again. And I don't want to pick--I want to watch them all (even though Rocky II is easily my favorite). I've decided that I'm going to save up my tutoring money that I make so I can buy them. I will do my best to not spend every waking moment watching Rocky--but I feel like I need to make up for my 25 years of life never having watched them at all. :)

Here's to heroes.
Here's to putting hope in the good guy.
Here's to inspiration.
And here's to not fighting an addiction.

May there be many more viewings of Rocky to come!

A Journey: True Story

I have two sisters. Niki is one year older than I am. Kali is a little under 2 years younger than I am. As much as I love and respect Niki, I don't have much of a story to tell about the two of us. We pretty much got along well our whole lives. This story is about my journey with Kali.

I don't remember too much specifically about our childhood relationships except for the fact that Niki and I used to fight over who got to play with her. It must have been when she was little and cute or something. . .

Our story starts more when I was in 9th grade. 1998, to be precise. This was when I made the decision that I didn't really like Kali. I didn't like her because that entire school year she tried to copy the things I wore, and the unique style I tried really hard to create. Looking back, I'm sad that I thought I was creating any sort of style, but either way; it was mine.
I remember trying to say mean things to her that would make her feel bad, just because I didn't like her. I told her that her belly looked like bread dough. I made fun of her teeth. I teased her about her stinky feet. I was not nice.

Two years later, Kali was in 9th grade, which meant she was now in the youth group. One specific incident I remember happened in the summer after 10th grade when our youth group went to Uplift at Harding University. I had done a pretty good job of avoiding Kali the entire trip, but there was one night we all stood in a circle and had a prayer and I got stuck next to Kali. I had to hold her hand, and my entire body started cringing with hatred. I started crying and after the prayer I went over and talked to Mark. I told him that I was crying because I couldn't stand the thought of standing by her and holding her hand.
I was sick of her trying to be like me (which I considered copying me), and I didn't believe her when she said anything spiritually relevent. I didn't want to know about her personal life, and I didn't want to think she had the capacity to think deeply about things that were relevent to me.

Off and on, the next two years, Kali had some really fun friends. I think I stopped hating her, and more started tolerating her. I occasionally would still say mean things, but I didn't cringe when we sat near each other. I think high school was good for Kali, because when she made her friends they gave her new people to emulate, taking less pressure off me. I was dating a boy, and she really liked him. She and he would help me make school projects; and he and I would help her make hers (mostly in movie form).

When Niki went away to college, I was a senior in high school and Kali was a sophmore. Everything in her life started getting dramatic. She started getting her own opinions and deciding that mom wasn't fair about ANYTHING. I remember on two occasions Kali storming out of the house and sitting out on the driveway or in the treehouse. It was well after dark, and my mom looked at me and said, "go talk to her."
I went outside to talk to Kali, not knowing what I was going to say. I didn't even like her. I thought she was being ridiculous and childish. But I sat out there for probably an hour on each occasion and just tried to convey that I understood because "I've been there before."

I consider that a turning point in our relationship. Whether it had to do with actual "bonding" or just me growing up, from that point on Kali and I became pretty good friends. I looked up to her and her amazing hair. Her style sense far surpassed mine pretty quickly, and I started copying her. And she didn't mind. I got along with her boyfriends, and the three of us always had lots of fun.

Kali moved down to Oklahoma and pretty much became the most popular person on the planet. And I was so proud of her. I liked it when people knew me as "Kali's sister." I was grateful for her sense of style, and gained a whole new appreciation for her sense of humor and her wittiness. We shared many inside jokes, and generated many dances and renditions of everybody's favorite songs to perform for family gatherings. I look back on our journey (or rather my journey) and am a little sad to remember how much I truly hated her.

I am pretty sure that people prayed for our sister-ship, and I am pretty sure that God had lessons to teach us both through each other. I'm not sure what, if anything, I taught her. But I learned a lot about being a big sister from Kali. And I learned a lot about myself.

Now Kali and I are pretty much as close as we could get. We share clothes, laughs, jokes, and respect. I know I probably travelled a whole lot farther than Kali, but the journey we took to get us to where we are now is something that I consider one of the most important ones I've ever taken.

Kicking Winter's Butt with My New Armour.

I am a runner.

Yes, I am one of those fools who enjoys running while not being chased, or trying to get to a 7-eleven, giant cookie, or Black Friday sale. I like to run with no end in mind.

Runners World put out a list recently of what makes a "runner" as opposed to a "jogger."
Their list included things like:
A runner doesn't buy the shoes that look cool. He/she buys the shoes that fit.
A runner doesn't buy "outfits" or other matching nonsense. He/she wears what works.
A runner views running as a sport, rather than an activity.
A runner doesn't train when it's convenient. He/she trains when it's necessary--and often inconvenient.
While I'll openly admit that a vast majority of my "runs" are actually at more of a "jog," I still proudly consider myself a runner. I set goals, and I work hard to achieve them. And if I don't, I try again.

That being said, I have a couple general rules for running.
I don't really spend money on running gear. Except for my shoes, I mean. That's about a hundred bucks every 4 to 5 months. But as far as clothing goes, if it doesn't ride up or rub it's pretty much good. I currently alternate between 3 pairs of running shorts, 2 of which I've had since before I moved down to Oklahoma. I wear them any day that's above 40 degrees. If there's no wind, I'll even wear them as low as 35.
As far as shirts go, in the summer I wear tank tops. The fall I wear t-shirts, and as it gets cooler I'll wear a long-sleeved t-shirt. If it's below 45, I'll typically put a t-shirt underneath a long-sleeved t-shirt and I'm pretty good to go.
Another rule I hold to pretty strictly is that if it's below 50, I wear a headband to cover my ears.

This generally works pretty well, because winters don't typically get too cold in Oklahoma. There is an occasional cold day where I'll need to wear running pants and a pullover fleece . But as much as I can, I avoid running in pants. I hate it, because they weigh me down so much it nearly makes running a chore. But I stay warm, and I thump through it.

Soooooo, this brings me to the original purpose of this post:
I was at a sports store tonight, and I was going to look for running tights. Because it was like 20 degrees outside today, I still had to run tonight, and I figured since I'll be going home to Michigan in a week and will need to run there it would do me good to find something I could make work.
My thinking was (honest to goodness) that if I got some good, winter running tights, I could put them under my shorts and still run just like normal. It wouldn't weigh me down, and training for the marathon this winter would be so much easier if I didn't have to dread those thumpy runs.

I looked and looked, and couldn't find any winter running tights, but I came across an area of Under Armour Cold Gear. Under Armour is pretty quality. I own a long-sleeved shirt by them, and I like it pretty well. It's just really expensive. And their policy (or something) is to never offer it at marked down prices. I found a pair of Cold Gear pants, my size. 50 bucks (UGH). But I figured, "what the heck? It's only money." The worst that could happen, in my mind, is that they're the same as my other pants. In 5 years I'll probably still be wearing them, so it's not really unreasonable. Then I grabbed a Cold Gear hoodie (in white, because I typically have to run at night). Another 50 bucks. This is getting pretty ridiculous--but I honestly couldn't stop. I thought about it, and when it's cold outside the part of me that gets the coldest is always my thighs. So I went to the (not Under Armour) section and found a pair of those tight pants like they wear on The Biggest Loser that go just below the knee. I figured I could wear those under my pants. Those were like 12 bucks--clearly because they were an off-brand. And then I grabbed one more Cold Gear fleece (yeah, 60 bucks--don't judge me).

I'm not gonna lie, I'm feeling a little silly to have spent SO MUCH MONEY on running clothes when I have lined windpants, and fleece hoodies at home. I felt like there pretty much wasn't any excuse to spend that much money on like 4 items. But I did it anyway, and I came home to suit up.

I put on my new tight-pants. Then my new Cold Gear pants. I already had on tall socks, so I just kept those pulled up. I wore one of those sports bras that is a tank-top (for an extra layer), then I put my long-sleeved Under Armour shirt on, a regular t-shirt over that, and then my new white hoodie. I slid a neck gator around my neck, and pulled my hat down over my ears. I put on some gloves and I stepped outside--ready to face this 17 degree night for three nice easy miles.

I started running, and something dawned on me after about 20 steps: I felt like I was running in shorts and a t-shirt. Not because I was cold, but because I had full range of motion, and nothing was weighing me down. I kept going, and started to pick up my pace. My cheeks were a little cold, but no other part of me was. I was running strong, running hard, and not feeling any sort of pain, sluggishness, extra weight, or anything that layering and cold weather typically cause.

I almost didn't want my run to end. I was reminded of how much I love winter, and the crisp cool air. I was reminded of how much I love running. I was reminded of how strong I am. And how I choose to run, and I do it because I want to be good at it.
I could have waited until the cold front moved out.
But I'd rather put on my new armour and go out and kick it in the butt.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas!

I was tagged by Jennifer!

1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate? Neither! Christmas CUSTARD!!! (extra chunky!)

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? I have two things to say about this one: 1) Santa who? We only have presents from Elmer Elf, Blitzen, and the Tooth Fairy under our tree; and 2) of course they're wrapped! conveniently color-coded so each kid has presents in only one type of paper (for easier sorting!)

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? both! all of the above! and blow up decorations! and blinking lights! and a nativity scene is a MUST! I also like it when the entire lawn is enclosed in like a fence of lights!

4. Do you hang mistletoe? no. that's a parasite, you know. kills things.

5. When do you put your decorations up? whenever I can. I think a better question would be "when do you take your decorations down?" to which I answer, "three years later when I move out of the house."

6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? Grandma Merilynn's stuffing!

7. Favorite holiday memory as a child: Picking out our Christmas Tree!

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? Truth? What do you mean? He's very very busy--which is why we don't get presents from him at our house. We get them from the elves and reindeer instead. And also the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. And I am absolutely not kidding.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? yes. We always go to Aunt Kay's house, and all of the family draws someone's name, and we get 1 gift each.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas Tree? when we were little, my mom would sit in a chair with the box of ornaments and us kids would line up and she'd hand us each one and we'd go hang it up and then line up again for the next one. Now Kali does it (because she's pretty much a professional tree decorator)

11. Snow! Love it or Dread it? LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE (and miss) it!

12. Can you ice skate? Duh! We used to build a rink in the back yard every year, and Niki and I would practice the Pem-Chinko (from the Cutting Edge). We got really good. I can also spin for like 15 seconds without stopping.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift? One year I wanted a globe more than anything, and I got it. That was so sweet!

14. What is the most important thing about the Holidays for you? getting presents, of course. Juuuuuust kidding! Being with my family!

15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert? PIE!

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? Never actually having Christmas on Christmas.

17. What tops your tree? A golden Afro

18. Which do you prefer giving or receiving? honestly? If I've found something that I KNOW somebody is going to LOVE, then giving. But honestly, who doesn't like to receive?

19. What is your favorite Christmas Song? Frosty the Snowman. Then It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas!

20. Candy Canes​!​ Yuck or Yum? I've had better.

21. What do you want for Christmas? A tall upright piano

22. Do you attend an annual Christmas Party? every event with my family is a party--so yes.

23. Do you dress up on Christmas or wear PJs? It depends on what day, and what time of day we celebrate. One time, we opened presents on Christmas at 11:30 PM because I had to work the afternoon shift at the hospital, so I wore my scrubs.

24. Do you own a Santa hat? No

25. Who do you normally spend Christmas with? My FAMILY!

**Now, I am to tag some others who will answer the questions and pass the tag along !!

Emily

Lindsay

Naomi

Danny

The Offer of a Lifetime!

Friends, family, stalkers, and strangers alike: I have an announcement to make!
I have decided to start my own business. Using my own enterprise and capitalizing off of a skill which I proudly possess, I have decided to share with you my endeavors so you may benefit from it also!

I have decided to become a professional book labeler.
Here's my pitch:

Are you an avid reader?
A college student?
A teacher who loans out books to students?
An overly possessive person who is afraid to share?
Or do you just have a lot of books?

If you answered, "YES!" to any of these questions, then today is your lucky day!
I am offering my services to use a permanent marker and write your name on the edge of your books! That's right, you heard me! You can solve all of your personal property problems by simply having your name on the top, side, or bottom edge of the outside of your books!
No more wondering if that book is yours!
No more feelings of poverty, or like you don't have any possessions.
With your name proudly displayed on your books, everyone will know to whom they belong!

For $0.10 a book, I can solve all of your nameless book related problems!
For this simple skinny, shiny silver coin, you get the following:

• Your name, in large capital letters, uniformly displayed on the edge of your books.
• If you choose to label numerous books, each will be consistent with the next.
• Your name will be spelled correctly.
• You can choose what color you would like from a vast supply of Sharpie (TM) markers.

And now, for a limited time, if you contact me through this advertisement your price is only $0.05!!!! That's a steal, folks!

And here are just a couple of reasons why you want to hire me to label your books:

• You'll have more time to spend with your friends and family.
• You don't have to worry about tricky curved letters looking all funny and lopsided (remember, I am an expert).
• You won't have so suffer debilitating hand cramps from hours of book-labeling.
• You're supporting capitalism, and our economy.

If you are interested, contact me through this ad and I would love to talk with you more personally about our new partnership!

Bringing in the Tithe

These past few weeks at church, our preacher has been talking about tithing.

What's funny about tithing is that for some reason I never thought it applied to me. I was always taught to give to God, but the 10% thing wasn't mandatory. I was always under the impression that when you give to God, you give what you can. And stories like the one about the lady bringing her two copper coins in, while the rich guy brought his handfulls of money sort of fell in line with what I always thought. I don't have much, so God must understand when I give to him when I am able to.

That's how I thought things worked until a couple years ago. Now mind you, I still never believed tithing really ever applied. However, I came to the realization that when I trusted in God to provide for me, it was foolish to not give to him out of my blessings. And when I gave back to him, he seemed to continue to provide. It was a pretty sweet deal. It was nice to see a connection between suddenly having enough money to give because I had given trusting that I would be provided for.

This lesson got even a little deeper last year when I encountered God's providence on more than one occasion as a direct result of praying for it. You can read a little more about it here: http://pancakesandtea.blogspot.com/2007/07/short-and-sweet.html

But still, in my church background, the tithe wasn't ever talked about.

These lessons Mark has been preaching about tithing have been SO good! I have been eating them up! I was lucky enough to already have come to the conclusion through my personal blessings and experiences that giving my money to God shouldn't really be optional. And when I hold back, I limit my own ability to be blessed. But now that I realize and understand that God expects my tithe, it sheds a whole new light onto my giving. Now that I relate my money actually belonging to God to scripture (Malachi 3:8-12), it makes much more sense to me. And it makes me excited to know that God wants to bless me and provide for me.

I think what I take away from all of this new information on tithing is the way I will look at my giving. Instead of just gratefully accepting these random monetary blessings as God's way of providing for me, or answering my prayers; I also need to consider tithing these gifts too. They, also, came from God--just like my paycheck--and therefore belong to him.

I can't wait for next Sunday when our church collectively brings in the tithe. I can't wait to see how much God is waiting to bless us, and what he will do with Quail in his kindgom.

If you are interested in listening to the sermon series online, go to:
http://quailchurch.com/cgi-bin/MediaList.cgi?section=&cat=In%20God%20We%20Trust

A Day with my Favorite Aunt Kari

For this entry, I am inviting my very first guest blogger: Tyler Cash Erwin.

He calls this entry, "A Day With My Favorite Aunt Kari."

Aunt Kari is so great! She came to my house to play with me for TWO whole days! We had so much fun!

Aunt Kari came into my room because she heard me singing to her. I try to sing as loud as I can in the mornings, just because I know how much she loves music.

Then she got me out of my bed and we went into the family room to play! She's so silly, though, because she always has to drink her coffee. She won't share it either. She's probably afraid that I'll drink it all--but really I just want to dump it all over the place!

After we played for a little bit, she picked out some clothes for me to wear. I am pretty sure she chose this outfit because she knows how picky my mom is when my clothes don't match. This is my big brother Kody. He was visiting Aunt Kari for the last 3 weeks, but he's home now! He mostly thinks he's too cool for me, but sometimes I can get him to listen and then we can play like good brothers.

Aunt Kari is the BEST AUNT EVER! She sings to me all the time. She sings so many songs it's hard to keep up with them all! But there is one that she sings that I always love! She sings "You Are So Beautiful" and it's my favorite song! Every time she sings it to me, I stop what I'm doing and listen. I don't want to miss a single second!

She had to go home tonight, but Grandma Paula and Handsome Grandpa Jeff are coming to Oklahoma in 3 weeks, and they're going to take me down to Edmond to stay at Aunt Kari's house! I'm so excited! I love Aunt Kari's house!

Okay, I'd better go now. Maybe she'll let me blog again sometime!

Love T-Ca$h

Alphabetizing my Life.

I got this idea from my BFF Jennifer. I'm going to use the alphabet to tell you a little bit about myself. :)

A is for Apple Way. It was where I met my BFF Jennifer, and lived my first 2 years in Oklahoma.


B is for Batman. Batman has always been my favorite super hero. Jennifer and I were Batman and Robin for Halloween last year, and it is by far the best Halloween costume I've ever had (or been a part of).


C is for Caramel Apple. This is pretty much my very favorite treat. I love to eat caramel apples, while I'm driving, when I'm walking, when I go to the park. I love it when people assume I came from a fair.

D is for Dean Jones. If I was born like 70 years ago, and the current year 1967, I'm pretty sure I would be on my way to Hollywood to make sure he knew that we should be married immediately.


E is for Everybody Loves Raymond. I have all 9 seasons of this show and have watched them embarrassingly more than once. I have a small crush on Raymond Barone, and hope one day my future husband is as awesome as Ray.

F is for Fiber. I drink Metamucil 3 times daily to keep my colon healthy and in line. And apparently my cholesterol is amazing.

G is for Great Dane. My favorite dog in the whole entire world is the Great Dane. I have wanted one ever since I was in 3rd grade. I plan on getting my very own Dane next summer. His name will be Chauncey.

H is for Hula Hoop. I once hula-hooped for 56 straight minutes. It was pretty impressive. Mostly that I didn't get bored and leave.

I is for IHOP. I LOVE pancakes. Although I prefer home-made pancakes to IHOP ones, in my mind any place that is dedicated to making the world a better place by serving platters of perfect pancakes should rank a place in the alphabetization of my life. Hence, I for IHOP.


J is for Jennifer! Jennifer is my BFF, and she lives in Montana. We have gone on the best adventures, and we are actually twins. We dress alike sometimes, because we're fraternal twins--and we don't want to confuse people. You know, cause it's confusing when identical twins dress alike. We figure it's equally confusing when fraternal twins don't.

K is for Killers. They're one of my favorite bands. I think they're great. They remind me of Bruce Springsteen, and all of the reasons why I should like him. Except I can understand them. And there's no saxophone (no lie, that's not my favorite instrument)

L is for Law and Order: SVU. This is my favorite show, and I plan on incorporating the names Elliot and Olivia into my children's names when I have them. I hope my husband doesn't mind. Or realize where the names came from. . .

M is for Michigan. Michigan is my favorite state. It is the high-five of the United States of America, and I'm lucky enough to be from there. I love everything about Michigan, except for Jennifer Granholm.

N is for Nephew. Because I have one. He is handsome, and so funny. And his little ears stick out and it's so cute. He smiles when he sees me, and when I sing "You Are So Beautiful" to him, he always looks at me and smiles. He also lookes just like I looked when I was his age. So I'm pretty sure we're going to be pretty close. I'm already his favorite Aunt Kari.


O is for Olives. There are not many foods in this world that I do not like, but olives are definitely one of them. I can not stand olives. And since I'm well aware that tastes change, every year or so I try them again. I have hated olives every single year since I was 6. I wonder what 2009 will hold?

P is for Piano. I want a piano so bad. When I was in 2nd grade, there was a piano in my classroom and some friends taught me how to know which note on the page went with which key on the piano, and from there I became a piano-aholic. My parents got a piano when I was in third grade, and we got to take lessons from a lady from church I took lessons for 3 years, and got good enough that I could sight read pretty much anything. I have been known for sitting down and just playing the piano for over an hour at a time just because it was on the way to wherever I was walking.

Q is for Quicken. I use Quicken to keep track of all of my finances. I'm quite the little budget nerd. I save all my receipts, and make sure I'm not spending anything unnecessarily. I also use it to try to plan ahead and see a forecast of my savings, so I can dream about when Chauncey becomes part of my family.

R is for Rasheed Wallace. Rasheed Wallace is my favorite Piston. I think he is hilarious, entertaining, and also very good at basketball. I admire him so much, my car is named Rasheed, in his honor.



S is for Star Spangled Banner. Not only do I love my country, but I love patriotic holidays, events, songs, and rocket pops. Jennifer and I had plans to make an album of all patriotic songs. This idea came to fruition when we were driving in her car, Henrietta, to buy patriotic decor for President's Day and her radio was absent. We spent the entire drive singing songs like "Home on the Range," "The Star Spangled Banner," "You're a Grand Old Flag," and "America the Beautiful!"

T is for Torgo's Knees. Torgo is a character from "Manos: Hands of Fate." One of the best worst movies of all time. Torgo is a character who was a monster, but his monstrosity was his rather inappropriate and inexplicably large knees. When my friend Eric and I started recording music, our dreams of grandeur led to our very own band, Torgo's Knees. We got pretty famous, on Myspace. There are like 3 people who know about us, and occasionally listen to our music. We rock.

U is for Umbrellas. I think umbrellas are completely unnecessary. I love rain, and getting wet. Walking, running, and golfing in rain are 3 of my favorite things to do. Being outside in the rain makes me feel real, and part of something. It makes me feel strong. It reminds me of God's power, and providence. Rain, to me, means life. Water quenches our thirst, and I like knowing that when I am soaking up rain my needs are being met.

V is for Violin. I can kind of play the violin. I am very good at sightreading, but only mediocre at making the sound that comes out not scratchy. I try my best, but am always nervous when people can hear me because I honestly am well aware of how painful it can be.

W is for Winter. Winter is my favorite season. I love snow, I love grey skies and slush covered streets I love scraping snow off my car in the morning, and the feel of the crisp air on my cheeks when I walk outside on a winter night. I like wearing mittens, scarves, hats, sweatshirts, and boots. And I love Christmas lights, trees, songs, and decorations. Everything about winter makes it my favorite 5 months of the year (in Michigan, at least. In Oklahoma, there's only like 1.5 months of it).


X is for Xylophone. When I was in elementary school, our music teacher would have us bring a poem to class and we'd get to be in groups to put it to music. Each group got to have one of the large xylophone or metaliphones. I always got to play the xylophone because I was really good at plunking out songs on it by ear. I'd like to think that if I'd pursued that percussive passion I would have been able to play the xylophone like a piano. I LOVE it when people can do that!

Y is for Yoda. Although R2D2 is the Star Wars character I sleep with, Yoda is who I lay my head down on. That's right--you read that correctly. I lay my head down on Yoda at night, as I have a pillow that has a GIANT picture of his face on it. On the other side is Obi Wan Kanobi, howver I get way too creeped out at the thought of waking up and looking at a bearded man on my pillow. So I always sleep on Yoda.


Z is for Zoo. I LOVE going to the zoo. I think it's so exciting to be able to see bears, and lions, and otters and penguins all playing and having fun. I will go to a zoo any time of year, and would probably borrow a kid for a day or something just to have an excuse to go.

Now you know my ABC's. Tell me what you think of me! :)

See You at the Pole

This morning, I was walking into the school building at around 7:20 and I noticed 3 girls standing by the flagpole. Usually, this is not the practice, as the kids are supposed to go into the gym in the morning until 7:50 when they're allowed to go to class.
I asked a fellow teacher as we walked into the building, "Do you know if today is See You at the Pole day?" He replied, "I don't think so. They might just be hanging out."
I always remembered going to SYATP when I was in school, but I never actually took notice of when it was. There were always signs or posters around school and town to remind me. I hadn't seen any, nor heard anything so I didn't think anything of it.
I got to my classroom, and turned on my computer. I Googled See You at the Pole and sure enough, today was the day. I quickly grabbed my keys and headed out to the flag pole.

I'm not sure what I expected to happen. I've never been in the role of a teacher standing out there--just always the student. I wasn't sure if any other teachers would be out there, but I wanted to go. I wanted to go because I want the kids at my school to know that I am a Christian, and that I am okay with anyone knowing that.

By the time I got out there, the group of kids had grown a little. There were now about ten or twelve and they'd started taking prayer requests. One of the little boys offered to lead a prayer. When he was finished, a few of the circle left to go inside. The rest of us just sort of stood there. Not really knowing what was next. It was okay, though, because God knew.
One of the secretaries walked by and stopped. She asked if she could stand and pray with us before she went in to work. She led a prayer, and during her prayer, more kids joined the circle.

Some of the kids had started asking for specific things to pray for, and I suggested that someone start the prayer and then anyone who wanted to add to it just speak up. The same little boy started a new prayer. Short pause, another kid speaks up. Followed by another, and another, more and more kids are joining the group at the flagpole. More and more kids are speaking up and praying.
These 6th, 7th, and 8th graders were praying for their school, their friends, their teachers, the presidential election, the soldiers in iraq, all of our churches, other kids around the country praying at the flag pole...These kids were praying for the kids who were walking by. The ones who didn't know why we were standing there--praying that they might ask questions. They were praying for the ones who knew why we were standing there and continued to keep walking. They were praying for opportunities to share their faith with each other. They were praying that others could see God in them.
I have never felt so blessed than this morning, having around 70 or so kids praying for each other. Praying for me as their teacher. Praying. It was so incredible.

I'm not one for publicly praying--it's just not something I've ever really felt comfortable doing. However, I spoke up to end the prayer. I prayed that everyone around the pole this morning would look around and see who their sisters and brothers in Christ are. I prayed that we would be able to show our love for Christ in how we act daily, and that we could encourage and be there for one another as this family of believers at Cheyenne.

We ended the prayer and the kids went into the gym.
I headed into the building through the front doors.
It was 7:50.
Time to start the day.

Something Beautiful

I have always loved hands.

And I am eagerly awating the day when I can have the beautiful hands that old ladies have.

There is something so comforting and so beautiful about the hands of an old woman.

I could look at them all day.

And judging on the number of pictures I found when I hit up google looking for something to illustrate this little entry, I am not the only person who feels this way.

:)

When I Start to Miss Michigan. . .

I have to remind myself why I am in Oklahoma.
And how hard it was to get here.

I'd wanted to be in Oklahoma since I was little. I wanted to go to OC so I could grow up and be just like my aunt Kim. I had decided on Oklahoma Christian right up until May of my senior year when I stayed home in Michigan (for a boy, no less) and went to Rochester.

Every year, since my freshman year at Rochester, I looked and looked for how to transfer. And every year, I got talked out of it. Something came up as a better reason, or a better opportunity to stay home.

I was packed and ready to move to Oklahoma in 2005, but I got sick. Then I got a job offer in Detroit. I stayed. Again.

Here's what I'm getting at, though.
Something about Oklahoma has been calling me. Every year. Since I was little.
But every year, when I've tried, it's never been the right time.

Enter spring break 2006.
My parents were in Oklahoma for Spring Sing, and I had talked about moving with them. We'd all agreed that it would be good to do sometime soon. Maybe that fall. Maybe the next summer. No definite plans. . .just knowing it would happen.
But while my parents were gone, I packed up my car.
I packed up my car, made plans with Eric and Becca Sharp to live with them until I could save up money and find some place else to live. And I left.

I still believe that I would be in Michigan right now if I had not left while my parents were gone. And I know I complain about missing Michigan all the time. But the truth is, if I was still in Michigan, my heart would still be pulling me toward Oklahoma.
I had to leave. I had to go be on my own for a little while. And I had to do it on my own.

I met my parents for the night on my way down, while they were on their way up. We said our goodbyes, and my dad did the, "are you sure?" speech. And we parted ways in the morning. Scared to death, but excited as I've ever been, I drove the 9 hours past the point of no return to Edmond, Oklahoma.

So when I start to miss Michigan, I just have to remember that I am here for a reason.
Sometimes you just have to pick up and go.
Don't look back.
Cry about missing Michigan.
And trust that I will end up where God wants me to be.

Busted! (What Else is New?)

Funny how I wrote this post so long ago.
About an actual love letter I received.
And funny how I read it now, and it convicts me.
Because God gave us his written word so we could understand him.
All we have to do is read it.
Read, and read, and read.

http://pancakesandtea.blogspot.com/2007/05/love-letters.html