The One with Lent: Week Three

     Week three of Lent was yummy and I was happy to share it with my dad. The Fish Fry seemed a success for everyone involved. There were so many (older) folk there and it was comical to see beer (and other spirits) served and consumed in God’s House. Maybe becoming Catholic is the way to go!

     It’s looking as though during week four (birthday week) I will be resting my bottom on chairs around tables with my community rather than on a pew among an unfamiliar community. Because I’ll still be sharing a communal table with the people I trust and love the most I’m not considering it a total loss if I miss out on church this week.

     May the birthday feasting be blessed…

The One With Lent: Week Two

     The second week of Lent was a success in that I actually made it to church. As I got out of my car and walked across the parking lot I literally said aloud to myself, "you're a crazy person." I continued my speed walk pace instead of turning around and made my way to a seat in the familiar sanctuary.

     
     My anxiety lessened and my breath returned once I sat down and scanned the space for recognizable faces, although there were none to be found other than the pastor. I was a young kiddo when I first met the pastor. His daughter and my cool older cousin were once good friends so I grew up thinking I was pretty cool by association. It was that old connection that kept me planted in my seat throughout the service despite how uncomfortable I was feeling.
    
     Knowing how I felt about facing another week of church the following week, I was pleasantly surprised to get an invite in the mail for a Fish Fry at a nearby church for this weekend. Eating fish instead of sitting through a service? Yes, please. Sign me up. It might feel like cheating, but for Lent I only said that I would go to church...

     Peace et Bon Appetit!

The One With Ashes at the Airport

     For Lent I have decided to go to church once a week, so it seemed fitting when I heard the announcement overhead at Midway Airport that there would be an Ash Wednesday service in the chapel. After mom and I made our way through separate security checkpoints we hopped in the elevator and claimed our seats in the interfaith chapel.

     Although the chapel was interfaith the service was Catholic which was evidenced by the missing last bit of the Lord’s Prayer and the Signs of the Cross. We sat and stood a number of times, sang and read through liturgies, and prayed and had our foreheads marked with ashes.

     For some reason I have been uncharacteristically fired up about Lent and this service was one of my favorite parts of my Chicago trip. Church attendance is not easy for me, so it will be interesting to see how the rest of this Lenten season progresses.

     Peace be with you…

The One With Being Trapped In The Now

A little while back I picked up a book that a stranger in my favorite bookstore recommended from across the discount cart. The book was a whole dollar and written by an author I had read and enjoyed before, so I bought it and gave it a read. Per usual, I did not finish it, but one excerpt is still lingering with me. The book is Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven by Sherman Alexie and the excerpt is from the chapter A Drug Called Tradition.

“ Your past is a skeleton walking one step behind you, and your future is a skeleton walking one step in front of you. Maybe you don't wear a watch, but your skeletons do, and they always know what time it is. Now, these skeletons are made of memories, dreams, and voices. And they can trap you in the in-between, between touching and becoming. But they're not necessarily evil, unless you let them be.

What you have to do is keep moving, keep walking, in step with your skeletons. They ain't ever going to leave you, so you don't have to worry about that. Your past ain't going to fall behind, and your future won't get too far ahead. Sometimes, though, your skeletons will talk to you, tell you to sit down and take a rest, breathe a little. Maybe they'll make you promises, tell you all the things you want to hear…

But, no matter what they do, keep walking, keep moving. And don't wear a watch. Hell, Indians never need to wear a watch because your skeletons will always remind you about the time. See, it is always now. That's what Indian time is. The past, the future, all of it is wrapped up in the now. That's how it is. We are trapped in the now. ”

 Being trapped in the now is both promising and terrifying. Terrifying because you never know when your skeletons, be them past or future, will stop in for a chat. You never know when they will scare you with reminders from your past or scare you with the uncertainty of what is to come. Being trapped in the now is also promising because it is chance to chase your fears and make them what you want. “If you don’t learn how to be scared, you’ll never really learn how to be brave.” (Simon Holt)

I’ve learned a lot about being scared, but being trapped in the now is challenging me to be brave. And for today, I’m not wearing a watch. 

The One With the Barbie Car vs the Barbie Shower

Question: Was there a toy or thing you always wanted as a child, during the holidays or on your birthday, but never received?

Answer: Yes. A life sized Barbie car.

I have an older, and much cooler, cousin who had a Jeep when we were kids and I remember riding that thing around his back yard all the time. That Jeep made me want my own to ride around my yard, except a Jeep would not suffice. I wanted a life sized Barbie car. Birthdays came and went, Christmases came and went, regular days came and went and I never had a Barbie car to ride around in.

I did, however, get a shower for my Barbie dolls. This shower spewed real water from a shower head and filled the tub with water and bubbles. One day, after being sassy to my mother, that Barbie shower was taken from me and set on top of the refrigerator. It was promised that I could have the shower back after some period of time, but I wanted nothing to do with that agreement. To take matters and punishment into my own hands I refused to ever accept it back, even when it was relinquished back into my possession. I never played with that shower again, although I do still own it.

Lesson learned: thankful to have had anything Barbie at all?

Look how happy I was when I got it...

The One With 2013

                  2013 began with fire crackers and booze in France. Good combination, right? I thought so. After eight years of dreaming about being back in that country for the holidays it had finally happened. That in itself made 2013 a year to remember.

                  As for foreign travel, 2013 also brought a trip to Japan to visit a dear friend and fond memories were made while riding a rickshaw in a typhoon, laughing at the Captain EO show at Disneyland, and eating sushi from a conveyor belt.

                  A trip to Colorado was also taken in 2013 and I will always remember being the Designated Driver on my own birthday and laughing while listening to my parents rehash old stories with their dear friends.

                  This year was memorable in that my best friend had a sweet baby girl, I took my mom to get her first tattoo, Remy was re homed to me from his comfy Californian home, I officially started dating again, I finished the Alice in Wonderland puzzle, and I tried tons of new things such as getting a pedicure and speed dating. Over the past year I spent a lot of time with the people I love and that is what counts.

                  2014 began with friends old and new at a spectacular event at the Kauffman Center in Kansas City. All you can eat mini pizzas and liquor, confetti, dancing, and party hats made for remarkable fun. If the food, company, Twilight Zone marathon, and naps are any indication for the year to come then I am very ready!

The year in photos:

Peace be with you!

The One With The Parking Garage

This time last year I was writing about the terrors of being detained in London. A year later, I find myself writing about the terrors of being detained in a parking garage.

Last week Stephanie and I went downtown to the Alamo Draft House to be a part of the Home Alone Quote-Along.  The Quote-Along was awesome and the kazoo, toothbrush, aftershave, tarantula made for super fun props throughout the movie. The only aggravating factor was putting in multiple orders for our second All-you-can-eat cheese pizza and still waiting half of the movie before getting it.

The Alamo Draft House’s website suggested parking in the H&R Block parking garage and getting the ticket validated, so that is precisely what we did. We got our parking ticket validated after the movie and started to question things when we were told what to do if the machine would not accept the validated ticket- which it did not. After searching and searching for a pay station in the parking garage we finally found one and then it would not accept the validation. After no success with the intercom we called the service number, but had no success with that either as we were underground and our phones had no service to call the suggested number. Eventually, we just decided to heck with it and paid full price. Next, I pulled up to the gate to leave after putting my ticket in the machine, but the machine would not take my ticket. At all. After trying to fit the ticket into the machine a variety of ways not shown on the instructional picture it finally accepted my ticket. And then nothing happened. The ticket did not come back out and the gate did not open. Ever. I hit the cancel button and nothing happened. I hit the intercom button and nothing happened. I tried, I tried, I tired. Nothing was working. We were totally stuck in the parking garage. I even tried pulling up to another stall and nothing happened.

A nice young gentleman must have seen me crazily driving back and forth between two stalls because he came over and asked if we were having troubles. After recounting our underground experience thus far the young gentleman pulled out his phone and offered to help. Nothing worked, but we were not surprised. There was a line starting to form behind us, so I pulled out of the stall and told the car behind us to attempt to drive through and we would follow quickly behind if the gate opened. The gate did not open and they did not get their ticket back. The car in front called back to us to say, “I think you have to put your credit card in!” to which Stephanie and I just looked at each other. Bad idea. They did not get that back either and the gate still did not open. Somehow, someway, eventually those glorious parking gates opened and we floored it out after the car in the front of us. 

Like a bat out of hell we made for the highway, laughing at our experience. Before making it to the highway though, we started to feel guilty for just leaving our parking garage friends behind when some had been so kind as to help in the beginning. After short deliberation we went back to check on our parking garage friends. The car in front of us had finally gotten ahold of someone and help was said to have been on the way to aid them in the return of their credit card. After affirmation that they were fine and thanking us for returning, we left again, never to return to the H&R Block parking garage.

Why these sorts of things happen when Stephanie and I are together I may never know or understand, but at least it provides material for good, long lasting laughs.

“I’m gonna give you to the count of 10, to get your ugly, yella, no-good keister outta my parking garage before I pump your guts full of lead!”