Home again, home again...

... jiggity jig.

Well, I am officially a resident at the Hays Home once more. Macy and I have spent the past few days settling into our new digs. That is, Macy spent an hour sniffing around before she proclaimed herself Queen of the Kingdom. Meanwhile, I spend most of my days organizing and re-organizing and trying to fit 5 years of college into my bedroom. Currently, my apartment has just vomited out into the basement living room and my car isn't even completely unloaded, so just when I think I've made a dent, more things pop up. The amount of things a person can collect is truly remarkable. And it's ridiculous how sentimentally attached I get to the dumbest things. No, I don't have a place for my four years' worth of ADPi composite pictures, but I can hardly throw them away. What do you do with such a thing? And sure, all of those caseless CDs are uploaded onto my computer, but it wouldn't seem right to throw them away... what if my computer crashes? Then I'd be in a pickle. Ah... conundrum.

Other than moving in and sorting through years of memories, I've kept pretty busy. I had a lunch date with Erica Monday, and yesterday Chasley, Emily, and I went to my grandmother's for dinner and girl talk on the dock. We three girls lounged on the dock while my grandmother and our other family friend, Mama B, swayed in rocking chairs and shared their wisdom with us... Something like, "When I was your age, I was married with two kids." Am I behind, or was she ahead? She just laughed when I asked her.

After playing on the farm, the three of us came back to my house for a slumber party; Dad continually interrupted us wondering how he was going to participate in girl talk if I insisted on keeping my bedroom door closed. 13 or 23, some things never change. We sat three across my bed, each with our Mac laptops on our pajama-bottomed legs, and surfed Facebook and abryanphoto.com for hours looking at wedding pictures. And of course we braided each others' hair for hours. I fell asleep to Joan Rivers talking about J. Lo on Fashion Police. It was practically perfect...

...until this morning at 5:20. I knew it was strange in my dream that someone was continually knocking on the door. It probably took me a full five minutes to realize it wasn't in my dream. Naturally, I lay paralyzed with fear for five minutes as I contemplated how the assassins on my back porch weren't going to take me down without a fight and wondered where my sweet Macy was-- I guess I figured Chasley and Emily could fend for themselves. Anyway, a few minutes later it registered with me that the construction men had arrived to begin repairing our tornado-damaged deck. Sure, it's perfectly logical that they do as much work as they can before the July sun hits 'Melting' on the thermometer, but I just wish someone had warned me... and that this wasn't going to be my fate for the weeks to come. So long, my dear friend Sleep... we had a good run.

After wrestling with sleep for a few more hours, I pulled myself from bed to have breakfast with Em before she headed back to Birmingham. Then Chasley and I hung out and got ready for the day and our sushi lunch date-- I've been craving it for some time now, and I finally got my fix. After lunch, Chasley was back to Huntsville for work.

And then there was one. Or two, if you count my loyal feline companion. And you should. Anyway, I topped off my day with freshly highlighted hair--- can I get an amen?-- and a catch up session with David and Tyler over chips and guac.

You know what's missing from this post? Boyfriend: last sighted on Sunday afternoon; 6'5, skinny; sweat-drenched from helping his girlfriend move (but surely he's changed and showered by now). It's possible that I've scared him off, but if you see him, send him my way. You'll know him when you see him; he's the one blotting out the sun.

Things I'm Excited About...

First of all, I'm having a pretty wild & crazy Friday night... I kicked it off with a scrambled egg and cheese sandwich because I'm trying to eat what's left of my groceries before I move out Sunday. Since then, I've packed up most of my bathroom and over half of my wardrobe. The major packing is now down to kitchen items, which I'll save for tomorrow after I run the dish washer.

So now, to top off my thrilling night, I'm sipping grape juice from a wine glass-- I'm a very fancy girl-- and watching Say Yes to the Dress. Which reminds me: something awful has happened. Since I woke up this morning, the TV in my bedroom-- where I wanted to watch TV as I packed up my closet-- has not been playing TLC and Lifetime for some reason. Friends, how am I supposed to live like this? It's barbaric.

As I sit in my living room-- my hands are tied due to the unfortunate television glitch situation-- I can't help but think about the things coming up in my life that I'm kind of excited about.... Starting with tomorrow.

I'm meeting Laura M. for breakfast. Breakfast dates truly thrill me. A good friend never looks better than over a steaming plate of chocolate chip pancakes.

After breakfast, I'm going to the gym. And yes, I'm very very excited about it. For the past 4 weeks, any free time I've had has been spent studying, doing stats homework and group therapy papers, and hopping from wedding to wedding. So the bod's been a bit neglected. I missed bikini season due to this mishap, but I'll just focus on the skinny jean season just over the horizon (fall is something that I'm truly looking forward to... my favorite).

Wedding #406 of the summer is tomorrow evening. This is the first wedding I've attended this season, though, in which I didn't know the bride and groom. Not crashing, just dating. I love weddings though. Love, love, love.

Sunday, I'm moving out. I'm really mixed up about how I feel about it; all I can really say is that it's bittersweet. But it's hard not to be excited about opening up the next chapter of life, no matter what you're leaving behind. Come Sunday afternoon, Dad and Boyfriend will be hauling furniture out of my second-story apartment, so please send up a prayer or two for unseasonably cool, dry weather.

And Monday-- this is where I get really excited and really, really dorky-- Monday, I'm going to start ORGANIZING. I love it. I love nesting and settling in, making things efficient and at-home. I'm going to cull out t-shirts for a t-shirt quilt (**Hint, hint, Mom**), pull out clothes for the consignment shop, go through things I've been hoarding keeping for sentimental reasons, change out the photos in my picture frames... ah, the to-do list is endless! And thrilling!

Tuesday, Chas, Em, and I are having a much-needed reunion. We've been separated since Chas and I left our mark on Chile in March, and it's time for an Americana slumber party. We're going to start our party out by taking mine and Em's grandmother to dinner and then playing on the farm as the sun goes down, then head home for girl talk into the wee hours. Wednesday morning, it's downtown boutique shopping and a sushi lunch.

Is there a support group for obsessive planners? Please advise. 


Wednesday afternoon, it's that time again: hair cut and color! This bronzy blonde is ready to be refreshed and trimmed. As my dear friend David would say, my hair's turning black again.

And then next weekend, double weddings in Huntsville with boyfriend.

It's good to be me, guys.

Hear ye, hear ye!

Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to inform you that I am officially done with summer classes! From today until August 24, I am on holiday. And a much-needed holiday at that.

I finished my last stats project today around 7:30, and I couldn't be more pleased to bid stats a less-than-fond farewell as we both go our separate ways. It's was a whirlwind semester with packing stats into 4 short weeks-- that's over an hour a day of stats lectures: thrilling-- but I'm so very glad to have it behind me.

Here's the best part: I'm done with "classes" forever (or for the foreseeable future at least... until the Ed.S. bug gets me...). That is, in the fall I'll have a practicum and in the spring I'll do my internship. While these are technically classes, they have no lectures and no research papers and no classrooms... just practical application of everything I've learned since January 2010, which now seems like a lifetime ago.

Fitting for this conclusion to my semester, I also conclude my time here in Tuscaloosa on Sunday. So for the next two days, I'll be packing up two years of memories and closing the door on some of the hardest and some of the most exciting times of my life.

So. Yeah. Closing up a chapter. I don't think it's really hit me yet, but when it does... it'll be a rush.

Tuesday thoughts.

Today was the last time I'll be able to attend the Tuesday morning Bible study at Trinity, and Beth shared a story that was fitting for a send-off.

A few years ago, Beth started getting to know a new resident in her neighborhood. She never gave her name, but her neighbor had recently been diagnosed with cancer. This young woman was a young wife and a young mother, and she was diagnosed when her baby was just a few months old. Over the couple of years that Beth was able to get to know her, the two women were able to grow together and learn from each other.

As the young mother and her husband prepared their son for his mommy's inevitable passing, they explained to the now 4-year-old boy that Mommy was going to live with God, that Mommy was unable to get well here on Earth but that being in Heaven with God would heal her and make her well again.

When the day came that Beth's neighbor passed away, the young husband came to Beth's door in the early hours of the morning to tell her. Beth went with him back home to pray and be with him as they waited for the paramedics to arrive. When the paramedics arrived, Beth noted that one was a woman with long, strawberry blonde hair.

The little boy in all his four-year-old wisdom rushed over to the red-headed paramedic and tugged on her uniform, "Hey, hey... are you God?"

At four years old, it seemed only reasonable that the person carrying his mother away must indeed be God.

The paramedic with a sincere heart for the Lord knelt down and got eye-level with the boy and said, "No, I'm not God... but I work for Him." And if there had ever been any doubt, in that moment that little boy knew for certain that his mommy was being ushered out of his home and straight into Heaven to be with God because God's workers were right there in his midst, gathering his mommy.

At the end of this story, eyes brimming over with tears, Beth said that in this moment, that strawberry blonde paramedic was a paramedic for God. She then asked a poignant question: are we doing our jobs for God?

Not just, are we telling people about God? are we going to Sunday school every week? are we doing our "jobs" for God?

But are we doing our jobs for God-- the daily, mundane tasks of life... the 9-5 workday, the afterwork chores, the roles of wife/mother/brother/stepfather/whatever... are we doing them for God? So that in a moment least expected-- like a tug on the pant leg by a small child-- we might be known as one of God's workers.

So I've thought about that a lot today... what would it look like to be a student for God? a daughter for God? a girlfriend for God? a friend for God? even a substitute teacher for God?

Just some thoughts on this Tuesday afternoon.

Things that are making me smile...

-- white chocolate mint mochas (sugar free and fat free, obviously)

-- coffee shop music

-- waiting til the end of my paper to double-space it and finding out it's two pages longer than expected

-- surprise summer thunderstorms

-- funny voicemails from my cousin to interrupt my studying

-- planning farm days and slumber parties with Em and Chas

-- coffee dates with newlywed friends

-- ten new wedding albums on Facebook everyday

-- Words with Friends and my recent addiction to sudoku

-- Finishing a John MacArthur book and deciding what to pick up next

-- weekends at home

Basically, what I'm saying is... I've got a lot to smile about right now.

Weekend Update.

Oh man, I am slacking on the blog this summer. For good reason, though.

I'm currently in the middle of my last two classes of my grad school career. Okay, that's a little misleading. Technically, I still have "classes" left, but one is a practicum (10 hours in a school, 4 hours in a clinic, and supervision every week) in the fall and an internship (40 hours split between a high school and an elementary school and supervision every week-- hello, full-time job!) in the spring. But those are so much more like the "real world" than school that I'm refusing to think of them as classes. In the meantime, I'm taking a semester's worth of statistics in 4-weeks-- Lindsey + numbers + condensed amount of time... maybe not my best choice, but I've got the ripping-the-bandaid-off mentality-- and I've been in a group therapy class since the beginning of summer, which is fun because we end class with an hour's worth of actual group therapy. In a classroom full of women, there is some major venting to be done.

In other news, my computer has started going crazy: my screen zooms in and out as it pleases and the trackpad (that's the "mouse" for those who aren't laptop savvy) is sporadic and unresponsive, all things that significantly slow things down. However, I'm terrified to turn my computer into the Apple people as it is my lifeline to paper-writing and statistics crunching. So, hopefully, me and old Max-- the name my Mac got by Alex continually referring to my computer as one of thousands of Mac's... I just thought he was bonding with my computer by naming it-- will make it through til July 25, when I can take it to the computer doctor and nurse it back to health.

In the midst of my classes, though, I am maintaining full weekends-- the joys of wedding season! This weekend, however, we had a welcome respite from weddings (not that I don't love weddings; I so do) and we took full advantage of our free Saturday by floating down the Cahaba River.

Now, this is a truly lovely past time. Yes, the sun beats down on you, but the water is so cold and moves at a relaxing, almost undetectable speed. You can rent an extra tube for your cooler-- stocked with nothing but water and ice cold Coca Cola Classic, to be sure-- and then you just let your worries drift away down the river.

That is, you could let your troubles drift away down the river if your beau's ex-girlfriend wasn't floating 10 feet ahead of you.

We arrived at Limestone Park Canoe Rentals-- a cinder block shack guarded by a leashed chow and a wife-beater clad gentleman, cigarette unashed and burnt down to the filter hanging from his mouth and beer-belly hanging over his belt-- around one o'clock to meet up with my friend Laura and her crew, but they were running a little late. We claimed the best tubes we could find-- some are more firm then others-- and waited on our friends and the next pick-up truck taxi to take us to the river's edge. As we waited, I hear Alex mumble to himself, "Oh no..." followed by a nod and a "Hey, how are ya?" only to look up and see The Ex walking up with her own entourage. For the next four hours, we drifted just yards behind them, trying to tread water the best we could but bumper tubes was inevitable at some points. Splendid.

Now, I've got some pretty serious experience with bad ex-girlfriends, and this is really the best situation I could ask for... although, I didn't ask Alex why on Earth he would have been so stupid as to date anyone before me, but he seemed stumped by my query... but there's just nothing comfortable about yesteryear's baggage. But as one of my favorite soundtracks says, "I've got baggage too; I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine."

Anyway, the rest of the weekend was spent lounging and catching up on our new favorite show-- really, it's our only favorite show as I don't watch ESPN and Alex refuses to admit that he loves TLC too-- Game of Thrones, a mix of Camelot, Lord of the Rings, and anything else with dragons and violence.

And this morning we went to Briarwood again; a preacher from Covenant Seminary was the guest speaker today, and he was fabulous. Literally brought tears to my eyes. Preached verse-by-verse on Romans 5:1-11... and let's be honest, I'll probably rehash it in a blog later this week, so I'll spare you for now.

And that's that, folks. Tomorrow, it's back to the grindstone. Statistics and crazies wait for no [wo]man.

bad credit.

My mom gives me a hard time sometimes-- and rightfully so-- for always needing credit. If anyone repeats a story I told them, I can't help but jump in and claim credit for the laughs.

Yes, it seems that I'm always in the market for a pat on the back... even if I have to ask for it specifically.

My Bible study leader said something this week that was particularly profound to me. We had just wrapped up Session 4 of Beth Moore's Inheritance study, and we were talking about the lots the Lord had given us. Everyone was throwing out thoughts and comments about the lesson when Becky said, "Ya know, I'm always asking the Lord to use me in some big way... but then I might take credit for it. I should just ask that He use me at all."

Now, the slippery slope here is laziness. I could refuse to go outside my comfort zone or just sit contentedly in my morning Bible studies and say that I'm just proud that the Lord's using me... no need for anything crazy. But that's not what I'm getting at.

I listen to Beth Moore's lessons sometimes and I can't help but wonder if I could ever be as knowledgeable and perceptive of the Word as she is... I wonder if I could ever write the kind of books that change lives the way she does... but the truth is, if I had that kind of talent, I'm not sure that I could stop myself from taking credit for it. Sure, I'd talk a big talk about what the Lord was doing in my life and yada yada yada, but at the end of the day, I can just see me patting myself on the back for the clever illustration I came up with to make that Scripture come to life. Way to go, Linds, you paraphrased!

So I'm thinking a lot about humility this week... and that's not really something I can take credit for.