Things I Learned in Texas

Sorry to go so long without posting. Gus and I have been in Menard spending a wonderfully relaxing Spring Break with my family.

Weeks with my family are almost always interesting. In fact, we are a group of rather zaney people. Throughout the week, we went through old boxes from my Grandma Pierce's house. Here are a few things I learned about my family while searching through these boxes:

1. My brother and I have been liberals from a very young age. We came across a list of laws we had made for our play country when we were in Kindergarten and 2nd grade. My brother has the complete list on his blog. It includes such things as gun control, welfare, and laws against any form of racial discrimination. I think another conclusion that can be drawn from this is that we were brainwashed early.

2. My dad's extended family was also a bit nuts. For example, Dad's great-uncle, Dude, has an interesting life story that I learned this week. He was married twice, both times to a mail-ordered bride. The first bride sent him a picture of her pretty young friend claiming it was a picture of herself. When he went to meet her, she was an old, unattractive woman, but he married her anyways because he felt sorry for her. Not surprisingly, they ended up divorced, but she remained a family friend even after he married his second mail-ordered bride. Not ironically, he died in a car wreck on his way to marry a third mail-ordered bride. He was one of my dad's favorite relatives.

3. The home I grew up in was obtained for our family through a marriage of convenience. An old doctor (about 99 years old) told my great-grandmother that he would give her his house if she would marry him and take care of him.

4. My great-grandmother would buy anything on credit. She once hid behind a piano in our house when a creditor came to collect some late payments. When her location was accidentally revealed, she claimed she was dusting behind the piano.

5. When my grandmother and Aunt Doe were younger, they always wore high heels and took pictures with dogs, so some of my own obsessions are starting to make more sense.

6. My grandmother was constantly cutting out random newspaper articles. Tucked in a stack of my old drawings from her house, we found an article about a new over-the-counter drug for yeast infections. This makes me feel better about always e-mailing people articles I think they should read.

7. Unrelated to my family or grandma's boxes, I also learned this week the BJ's best friend, Josh, has unresolved issues of animosity towards the wives of his friends due to the multiple times I have slaughtered him in boardgames. This was satisfying beyond words.

It was a really great week. I love learning things about my family because, as odd as it sounds, it helps me understand myself a little better. Gus also enjoyed the week, although he did have a few bodily difficulties. Primarily, he only "relieves" himself after Sienna, so on our way down to Menard he went over 24 hours without going number one or number two. I was a little worried about him. But of course, the best part of traveling with Gus is watching the workers in drive-thrus ooh-and-aah when I'm getting my food and being stopped about ten times by random strangers who are wanting to know what in the world that dog is. It was definitely a good trip.

Word vomit from Rush Limbaugh and how I became a feminist

Words flowing from the bottomless pit that is Rush Limbaugh's mouth generally disgust me. There's no nice way to put it. Unfortunately, sometimes it is hard to entirely avoid the man. The other day, I heard this extremely unfortunate quote from Limbaugh: "Feminism was established so as to allow unattractive women easier access to the mainstream of society." I was so angry about this that I decided to jump on a soap box. So welcome, reader, to my soap box.

After a few Sunday morning Bible classes that focused on women in the church, I have really been examining my views on feminism and my own role in society and, more importantly, the church. After one particular class where my feminism flared out a little more visibly than usual, I was asked by a fellow classmate what my father is like. Basically, she was trying to figure out the roots of my feminism. The more I thought about her question, the more I realized a startling discovery.

Limbaugh's gross misrepresentation of feminism is unfortunately not uncommon in our society, but after contemplating my church friend's question, I came to realize something that truly defies society's feminist stereotype: I realized that the three strongest feminist I personally know are all men. I am speaking of my father, brother, and husband. Let me explain.

Nearly everyday of my youth, my father told me how great I was. In fact, his parenting technique reminds me of Tina Fey's acceptance speech at the Emmy's last year when she thanked her parents for "somehow raising me to have confidence that is disproportionate with my looks and abilities. Well done. That is what all parents should do." He constantly told me that I was just as smart as my brother (which he was wrong about, but I don't hold it against him). The expectation in my house was clear: I, the daughter, was equal in ability and potential to the first born son. Take that, our ridiculous patriarchal culture!

Then there was my brother. He's an English major. I don't think I have to say much else. To sum it up, the guy is a raving feminist who has constantly affirmed both my artistic pursuits and my intellectual development.

And, of course, there is BJ. BJ is a preacher who not only allows, but encourages his wife to pick apart his sermons every week without getting insecure about his manhood. He stands in the kitchen while I cook and talks about deep, complicated theological issues that most people would only talk about with other Bible scholars. Essentially, he seems to think I have a highly developed brain that can withstand all sorts of intellectual vigor. I appreciate that. And the best part is that he helps with the dishes after dinner, and we usually talk theology then, as well.

So Limbaugh and all who prescribe to his way of thinking on this issue, feminist are not just a bunch of "unattractive women". Feminist are women of all levels of attractiveness who believe in the equality of the sexes and men who are secure enough in their masculinity to accept this equality. That is who a feminist is.

To my ACU friends

Even though it has been nearly two years since I graduated from college, old running jokes still pop up in my head from time to time. This is especially true of my freshman year when so much of my time was spent with my brother, his friends Will, and the Fat Tuesday girls. So, anyways, tonight at church we sang "There's a Stirring," a nice, normal praise song sung at many churches across the country. But instead of thinking about the emotions that should be "stirring" in me while listening to this song, I immediately thought of Will and diarrhea. I'm not going to go into why I thought that or how any of it is connected. The point is, I thought about Will and diarrhea tonight at church, and that is disturbing.

So I'm wondering, to all of my college friends who read this blog, do these memories creep up on you, which memories have remained the clearest, and are they as disturbing as the ones I find myself remember? I will make me feel better if I'm not the only one.

Conversation with a friend last night

Me: I'm packing Gus up, and we're heading down to Texas for spring break in a few weeks.
Friend: Are you taking Gus because he makes you feel safer.
Me: No, we just both get separation anxiety when we're apart.

Update on Dad

The procedure went very well this morning, and the reports were good. For now, no heart surgery (yay!) and his heart and lungs are in great working order. So here is a big sigh of relief and a very happy daughter.

I am way, way too much like my father.

Right at this very moment, I am such a bundle of nerves that you would swear if you poked my upper back (where I happen to hold tension), that I am actually made of steel. Or better yet, that I have muscles.

Unfortunately, it really is just nerves. My dad is having some heart problems again, and he is going in tomorrow for a procedure called a TEE. From what I understand, they will send something down his esophagus to take a good look at the back of his heart.

Chances are there is nothing too terribly wrong, although he might end up having some heart surgery. But my dad has a unique capacity for always assuming the worst. He has managed to convince himself based off of a flippant comment from the doctor that lung cancer is causing the heart problems. He's never smoked, and he has no symptoms whatsoever of lung problems, but he is convinced.

My brother, the most non-dramatic person you could ever possible meet, is able to see the absurdity in this, make a joke that breaks the tension in the room, and go on with life with the attitude of 'I'll worry about it when there is actually something to worry about' (which is almost never).

I, unfortunately, am very much my father's daughter: we look alike, we like the same things, we can both get worked into a fury over five minutes of Fox News, and we have neurotic anxiety. I fight the encroaching thoughts of 'it must be something awful,' but I rarely, or never, win the battle. These thoughts work themselves into my psyche, set up camp, and don't leave until there is absolutely no shadow of a doubt that what I am fearing is false. In the mean time, I am left shaky, tense, and probably creating my own stress-induced health problems that I am quite certain will strongly resemble those of my father.

So anyways, please say a prayer for my father, his heart, his anxiety, and his neurotic daughter. We all need help this week.

A few things I love about my husband: A Valentine's post

We aren't the sort of couple that puts too much into Valentine's Day. In fact, the plan for this year is that I will make a fancy Italian meal, and BJ will make some brownies. We might even light some candles and drink sparkling grape juice in wine glasses. That is about as far as we go.

But Valentine's is the day of love, so I'm going to get all mushy for a second and reflect on a few things I love about BJ:

1. Since I started working full time, he does the dishes every night.

2. He can pull out really good one-liners from Scrubs. I think he does it so well because he is entirely too much like the leading character, JD.

3. He can laugh at himself. Sunday, some of our youth group girls made him do Wii Fit, and he was a very good sport about his character being chubby and rubbing his belly.

4. He doesn't hide what he is thinking or feeling, so I don't have to sit around trying to read his mind.

5. He's is the consummate budgeter. It takes a lot of work on his part, but he keeps us out of the red.

6. He likes it when I play the piano, and he always encourages me on my art.

7. He never compromises his ethics for security. (I'm sorry to say that this has sometimes not been my favorite trait.)

8. He's genuine.

9. He doesn't have even an inkling of pretentiousness about him.

10. Being married to him is never, ever, ever boring.

A Texan put out in the cold...

For the past two mornings, I have watched steam from my exhaust pipe freeze directly on the asphalt. It is currently a whopping 14 degrees, which saddly enough, is toasty after yesterday. Why do I live here?

Quick update: BJ and I still have no power at our house. Our dogs are in Alton with BJ's parents, and I am missing them terribly. We watched a movie on BJ's lap top last night that had a huge dog in it with very cute ears. It made me miss Gus's ears. I actually missed a dog's ears. But other than missing certain aspects of normal life, I just feel very blessed right now to have friends with a generator.

25 Things

I was tagged on Facebook to do a list of twenty-five random things about me. Here's my list:

1. As a child, anytime I got very upset, I would run to my room, lay in bed, and concentrate on marching bands in parades. It always made me feel better.

2. Now when I get upset, I lay on the floor with my dog, Gus.

3. I once dreamed I was making out with Bob Marley. The latter part of the dream was spent with me fretting over the possibility of BJ breaking up with me.

4. Sometimes I like to wear clothes that aren't necessarily pretty (like my mustard-colored sweater) because it makes me feel liberated from always trying to fit in or be what people expect me to be.

5. Most of the jewelry I wear is cheap Avon jewelry my Grandma Pierce bought in the 70s and 80s.

6. Name any food item, and I can probably tell you the calorie content in a serving size. I am obsessed with calorie counting.

7. When I can't fall asleep, I go through the alphabet thinking of baby names for each letter. Some nights I do girl names, and other nights I do boy names. Incidentally, since I am married to a Bible scholar of sorts, my children will probably end up with weird Hebrew names. Please do not make fun of them.

8. I don't see the point in having glasses unless you are going to look like a librarian. I always go all out with big, plastic frames, and I wear them a lot.

9. Ever since my Grandma Pierce died, I have had a hard time playing the piano without getting depressed. After ten years, I thought it would get better.

10. The first thing I do every morning is look up political articles on the internet. When I come across ones I really like, I e-mail it to people I think will enjoy it. I kind of feel sorry for the people who keep getting these e-mails.

11. I once got fired for a blog post about not liking children. After over a year, I can finally laugh about it.

12. When BJ and I are having a rough day, we watch the "My Musical" episode of season 6 Scrubs. I once got cracked up in church because a song we were singing sounded exactly like my favorite song from the episode, "Everything Comes Down to Poo."

13. If I could be reincarnated, I would come back as a tall black woman with a HUGE Afro. I love Afros.

14. My friends here in Farmington joke that I am an elitist. I think they might be on to something.

15. BJ was the first and only guy I've ever kissed.

16. I like old things. My house is all kinds of quirky due to its old age, but I wouldn't trade it in for a brand new, enormous, well-functioning mansion. I was very excited when I first moved in because it smelled like my Grandma Farr's old farm house.

17. My favorite part of being a preacher's wife is proofing the sermons. I get a great deal of satisfaction from hearing a well-crafted sentence from the pulpit that I helped construct.

18. When I look at my own artwork, all I can see are flaws. Somehow, though, I don't want to stop making it.

19. I always assigned emotions to inanimate objects as a child. I once cried two day after eating at Pizza Hut because I was afraid I had hurt the feelings of a piece of pizza I had left uneaten on my plate.

20. The preacher who performed mine and BJ's wedding ceremony said that I was a curious mixture of domesticity and feminism. My brother told him that is why they call me a "domestic feminist."

21. My best friend, Theresa, and I once hid in my house with cast iron skillets and tennis rackets because we thought there was an intruder. It ended up being our brothers. I have no idea what a couple of ten year old girls were going to do with those weapons.

22. When I was about five years old, I had multiple dreams about Saddam Hussein attacking me and my family.

23. My idol is Doris Kearns Goodwin. She is a historian who often appears on PBS. This, of course, reveals the extent of my nerdiness.

24. I schedule my day around NPR. (If any doubts were left about my nerdiness, that cleared them up.)

25. All of my passwords and usernames revolve around Gone with the Wind. When I was a kid, they would air Gone with the Wind once a year on TV. My Grandma Pierce and I would watch it while eating Little Debbies.

The plight of an over-protective herding dog

My New Year's resolution (to be boring) is slowly disintegrating. For the first time in my life, I am a refugee. Mine and BJ's new home was hit hard by the storms in Kentucky. We have no power, water, or heat, so we are currently at BJ's parent's house. We're okay, and, thankfully, our church members are doing okay, but it is going to be a very long time before things are back to normal. In fact, it is going to be a very long time before we have electricity.

If you want to hear more about everything, give me a call. For now, I don't feel like recording everything that has happened. Honestly, it is still just a little too hard to believe. Instead, I just want to tell one of the nuggets of a good story that has emerged from this mess.

Tuesday night was the first night without power at our house. Luckily (we thought), the church office still had power, so we settled down on BJ's futton and started watching movies on Netflix. At about 8:00 p.m., however, a tree fell into the transformer in Farmington, and BJ and I were forced to try and find a warm place to sleep. We found a place for us fairly quickly, but the dogs were a bit trickier. Most people in Farmington don't keep housepets, so BJ and I were going to have to lock them up in our frigid laundrey room. However, since we are one of those pathetic couples with no children who treat their dogs like they are their babies (yes, I realize we are that couple), the idea of this traumatized us. Thankfully, our normal dogsetter had a log fireplace and was at home, so we dropped the dogs off there.

At this person's house, there were about 8 people bunkered down (every house with any source of heat was full). Of course, these people were moving around trying to get settled into the one room with a fireplace. Sienna and Gus are pretty attentive, so they knew by this time that something was going on, mommy and daddy were stressed out and gone for the night, and things were dangerous outside. For Sienna, this translated into being neurotically restless. For Gus, this meant he had to save everyone under his domain of protection, which, 0f course, was everyone in the house. Anytime people would go near the door he would start pushing them around and herding them away from danger. It was as if he was saying, "Don't you realize it is dangerous out there?" Poor guy. He has so much responsibility in life.

I wasn't there to see it. I only heard about it after the fact, but it is still nice to know that despite how difficult the past few days have been, Gus is still Gus. He is still trying to take care of everyone, and it is a heavy wieght on those shoulders.

I would like to ask for prayers for everyone in our region. It is an odd thing going through a natural disaster of this magnitude. I don't know how to explain it, but just keep them all in your prayers.

what's up

My blog is supposed to be a record of my life, and it recently occured to me that most people probably wouldn't really know what I am up to if they had read my blog the past couple of months. To remedy this, I've decided to do a quick post that is simply what is going on in my life, so here it is.

• The biggest change in my life is my new job as administrative assistant in the AIMS program at Murray State University. I love my job. Or rather, I love the people I work with, and I am coming to love the job also as it is developing. In the summer, we will have over a hundred high school students on campus taking college courses (I might even teach an art course). It promises to be an interesting summer.

• I have also started a new graduate program this month. I am seeking a Masters in Public Administration. Right now I am taking the introductory course. Basically, I am reading page after page after page analyzing our political system. As a political junky, it is not half so boring as it sounds.

• My favorite time of the week is when BJ lets me proof his sermons. I get to ask him all the hard questions, decipher what he is trying to say but not quite saying, and help him work through arguments that aren't developing. It is challenging and facinating and wonderful. But, shh, don't tell anyone a woman is helping with the sermons.

• Despite being really busy, my main goal is to keep up my art. I know I am pursuing a degree far and away from an MFA, but art is still my first priority. It just unfortunately doesn't make money. So, anyways, I've been working every night on art when I'm done with homework. This is the painting I just finished (please excuse what an awful photograph this is):

So that is life. Work, study, paint. Not a bad life, or at least I'm not going to complain.

Yesterday was a good day.

I think I'll just leave it at that. In fact, I think Sasha Obama can say what I'm thinking better than I can.

One way to describe my brother

This Sunday after church, I spent a little time talking to the brother of a girl with whom I am wanting to set up my brother. I don't usually do this sort of thing, but I think they might be fairly compatible; who knows, they might get at least a friend out of the whole thing. Unfortunately for my match making prowess, my husband is vehemently opposed to all forms of setting people up. Here is the conversation that followed in the car:

me: Her brother thought it was a good idea, also.
bj: Does he know John?
me: No, but Bro is just me with boy parts.

As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I got cracked up at what I had said, so I immediately called my brother so that he too could enjoy my clever sense of humor. This was my brother's response while also laughing: "Well that isn't exactly true (stuttering)...but the 'boy parts' part of it is true." He later recommended that I blog on this to embarrass our mother. So of course, (I have always done what my brother tells me to do, even when it is idiotic) I decided to oblige. So here's a post for the specific purpose of making my easily blushable mother blush. hehe

Here's a picture of me and Bro at Christmas. I like it because he looks sinister, and I look short and happy.

New Year's Resolution: Be Boring

I just caught myself making the most alarming comment on a friend's blog. Kayla, one of my best friends from college, was writing about how 2009 has the potential to be the first year in a long while when she won't face a major life change. Here was my comment: "That's my goal for this year: no major life changes. I am so tired of constantly being in adjustment mode. Hopefully, on Dec. 31, 2009, I will be toasting an impressively uneventful year."

How boring could I possibly sound! And, yet, that is exactly how I feel. Here's a short recap of the past 6 years.

2003: graduate from high school, go to college, live in a dorm
2004: start dating BJ, moved to another dorm
2005: get engaged, move to apartment
2006: move in with my brother, then move to mine and BJ's first home, get married, and then find out that I had married a preacher (that was a shocker)
2007: graduate from college and move to Frisco (catching a theme here with the whole moving thing.)
2008: move to Kentucky, for crying out loud (what does that saying even mean? All I know is that I wanted to express the absurdity of this last one), and get a real, full-time, dress nicely sort of job.

So yeah, I'm okay with the mundane this year. I like my house. I don't want to leave it. I'm really, really tired of moving. And I don't want any more major adjustments. Other than taking a few graduate courses, life should rock along smoothly this year. For a girl who hasn't lived in the some place for over a year in 6 years, that is sounding pretty good.

We made it back!!!

It has been a long week and a half since my last post. We have spent most of the time on the road. And, of course, I finally got to see my Texas. It was wonderful. In the past week, I have had a chile relleno, chicken taco salad, stuffed bell-peppers, a whole lot of rice and refried beans, and my favorite fast-food take on Mexican, Taco Bueno. So yeah, it was a good week.

The best part of my week was getting my Christmas present from my mother. Turns out, that crazy lady has spent the past six months slaving aver a quilt for me, and I had no idea. It is a bear paw quilt (my favorite pattern) and it has some of Grandma Farr's fabric in it. I've already got it on our bed upstairs. Here is a picture of it right after I opened it.


Christmas was wonderful, but I can sincerely say that it felt pretty good coming home. This house and this area has become home to us in a short period of time, but as always, one has to leave for a little while to truly realize that where they live has become a home.

We made it!!!

Last night was one of the scariest nights of my life. BJ and I left at 1:30 from Farmington to get to northeastern Indiana for Christmas with his family. Everything went along fairly smoothly except for a steady stream of rain until we hit Indianapolis. At 8:30, we were only an hour and a half away from our destination, we had just gotten around Indianapolis, and we were going along steadily when traffic suddenly came to a stand still. Apparently, there was a wreck about ten miles ahead of us. With traffic stopped, the rain that had fallen all day turned into a sheet of ice, and the rain that was still falling made it even slicker. Before we knew it, everyone was sliding around, including us. Realizing that we were not going to be able to go all the way, I called my brother and asked him to start searching for hotel rooms. He found one, and I called to make a reservation. It was about 12 miles down the road from where we first stopped. We pulled into the hotel at 1:00 in the morning. It took four and a half hours to drive 12 miles, and it was the most terrifying 12 miles of my life (even BJ was scared, and that is saying something). Thankfully, it warmed up today, and we made the last 60 miles of our journey in an hour.

After sliding off the road, seeing cars and trucks literally lining the sides of the roads, and fearing we would have to sleep in our car on the side of the road last night (it was an actual possibility), I feel exceptionally grateful to be in a home with family enjoying Christmas. So here's to all the warm and fuzzy feelings of Christmas. They have their purpose.

I'm strong enough to face the cold. I'm strong enough to face the cold. I'm strong enough...

This has become my morning chant (or you might say pep talk) while crouched in the fetal position in front of our space heater.

Eleven days to Texas (and Texas had better deliver some unseasonably warm weather.)

The silver lining to an economy in shambles

Yes. It is absolutely glum to watch the news right now. It is heartwrenching to see the unemployment rate climbing each mother, and I can't imagine knowing that Christmas at home is impossible because that home was lost to a foreclosure. These are trying times, but there are still blessings in which to rejoice.

Today I found out that due to economic reasons, Murray State will be closing a few extra days over the Christmas break. This means that instead of a week, I get two full weeks of paid vacation. And this means that I might get to see Texas our Texas after all. It has been nearly five months since I have seen Texas, over six months since I stepped foot in Abilene, and nearly seven months since I slept in my bed at home in Menard. I thought I was going to have to wait until spring break in March, but it looks like I might just have to wait two weeks. The thought of those short, ugly, shrubby mesquite trees lining a huge (hopefully cloudless) Texas sky is putting a big lump in my throat right now. I might even have to go out and buy a big yellow rose to take home with me after work.

A dog with a sophisticated palette, sort of

Being a Lab, Sienna will eat anything and everything we put in her food bowl or that falls to the floor while I'm cooking. Anything. Gus, however, is not a glutton, and he has been known to go days without eating a bite of food. After over a year and a half of trying to learn how to keep my dog from starving, I finally figured out what the problem is: Gus only likes food when it is moist and fresh. He would always eat dry food when we first opened the bag, but after a few days of it drying out, he lost interest. To remedy this, I have started mixing one can of wet food into his dry food everyday. Now, he is eating a lot, and this makes me happy.

The other day, BJ and I were in Walmart when I remembered that I was out of Gus's canned food. We went over to the dog food section, and I started throwing in cans of the different flavors Gus likes: beef, beef stew, turkey and bacon, lamb and rice, etc. Here is the conversation that followed between me and BJ:

BJ: Do you really think Gus cares if you get different flavors?
me: Of course, I don't want him to get bored with just beef or just chicken. Gus is pickier than your dog.
BJ: Yay, you know what else that sophisticated palette likes? Cat turds.

Okay, he sort of got me on that one. But I will continue to provide Gus with the best cuisine Ol' Roy Dog Foods has to offer.

Sienna's Thanksgiving dinner

Its back to work after what was a very memorable Thanksgiving. One of my best friends from high school, Garrett, and his wife, Sarah, came down to Kentucky for the holiday. They have a 17 month old daughter, Charlotte, who kept us pretty much entertained for three days. I was nervous about having a baby in the house because I am notoriously bad with kids, we have two giant dogs roaming around, and our house is basically a collection of hard edges and sharp corners. But amazingly enough, Charlotte came out of the holiday unscathed, so I'd call it a successful Thanksgiving.

As I said, this Thanksgiving had many memorable moments, all of which we can attribute to Charlotte and her tireless admirer, Sienna. However, one moment stands out in particular.

It was Thanksgiving afternoon, and the four adults were all in the kitchen either preparing for the big meal or just chatting. Charlotte was busy exploring everything within reach of a 17 month old. BJ and Garrett had done a little grocery shopping earlier, but BJ had neglected to put up all of the groceries, basically picking a choosing which ones he would put away. Unfortunately, one item he did not choose was a carton of 18 eggs. Charlotte climbed up unto one of the dining room chairs, saw the pretty green carton, and pulled up on the lid. Garrett was watching this (probably in slow motion), and I was fortunate enough to catch the look of horror and helpless that crossed his face. In the middle of our eat-in kitchen, in the middle of the Thanksgiving meal preparation, 18 eggs crashed to the floor. There were only four survivors.

Charlotte's eyebrows popped up in an adorable "oops" expression, and I immediately bent over laughing until tears came as the parents apologetically start cleaning. Of course, BJ helped the cleaning process by calling in his dog. She licked up a large portion of the mess for us.

As Garrett was bent over cleaning, he looked up at me and said, "This is going to be a blog post, isn't it? " Yep, it is.