Domestic Goddess

My mother is my hero. She has been married to my dad for nearly 30 years, and not once have I seen them even raise their voices at each other. Mom is a hospital administrator (read: she's the boss). She is a high-powered business woman and very successful, and yet she manages to have supper on the table almost every night. She does the laundry and waters the plants and changes the house's decorations with each season. She plans our family vacations down to every detail and researches the best deals and best quality. She's a bargain shopper and coupon cutter, and I have not wanted for a day in my life. Between my mom and my dad, I have been provided with every need, not mention many, many wants (and believe me, I have lots of wants). I have witnessed my mother lose her first born and battle through her grief with grace and inspiring faith in her Savior and Creator. My mother is an unbelievable woman of God, seeking his will every single day and praying through every situation.

I could go on, but I won't.

When most little girls dressed up like princesses, I was dressing up in my mom's heels and power suits. But I was still playing house and working tirelessly in my Fisher-Price play kitchen. I dreamed of being a doctor or (shocker) a hospital administrator. I had business meetings with my dolls, and I even fired a few.

I have learned so much from my mom. I am a world-class planner, and I am efficient to an almost comedic level. Lately, though, I've been straying from my ambitions of being a "somebody" in the business world.

I got a sewing machine for Christmas, and I have taken up cross-stitching while I watch re-runs of Sex and the City and Will & Grace. I watch Food Network when I'm up late and dream up meals that I might cook for Evan if we can ever fit a date night in. I've been painting and Mod Podge-ing anything I can cover in scrapbook paper. Alice and I are planning to paint my apartment soon, and she's introduced me to Martha Stewart's website.

Don't get me wrong: I don't think God's plan for me is to be a stay-at-home mom (although I have all the respect in the world for these truly selfless individuals), but I think there's a happy medium between being a business woman and domestic goddess. And that place is what I like to call "Soccer Mom."

I want to be a wife and mother. I want to volunteer in the community and host Disciple Now weekends for my church. I want to bring juice boxes to my kids' soccer games (or football or swimteam or cheer practice or dance rehearsals). I want to hand-make Halloween costumes. I want to sponsor the high school senior's Homecoming float and be the cheerleading coach (career goal: guidance counselor). I want to try out for local theater and sing solos in "big church." I want to make a quilt, and I want to have a signature dish. I want to host cocktail parties for all my grown-up friends and work in the church nursery on Sunday mornings.

So I'm going to be a guidance counselor. I probably won't find a cure for cancer, and I'll definitely never be a millionaire... But I'll cultivate relationships, and I'll make things with my hands that I can be proud of.

And I'm down with that.

Holiday To-Do Lists

Disney World: check.

Graduation: check.

Family Christmas #1: check.

Botanical gardens with Anna & Jacob: check.

To-Do:

Erica's Christmas Party

Girls' night with Lele, Anna, and Erica (a bachelorette party, if you will)

White Christmas PJ party with Eureka

Lee & Lele's "Pre-Wedding" Dinner

J-Crowd's Christmas Party

My graduation party at Erica's

Boondock's (oh yes... another hometown bar)

Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve on Sesame Street with the Harveys

CHRISTMAS

Brazelton-Isom union

Family Christmas #2

Jacob's Rockin' New Years Eve birthday weekend in... of course... Mentone.

Throw in a couple of Harvey gatherings, and voila! my Christmas break is complete.

Sometimes I think about my holiday planner (that's right, I keep a planner, so what?) and I'm completely overwhelmed. There is very little time to lay around with a pet in my lap and read Mark Twain (I try to read a classic in between others... you know, to keep me cultured), almost no time for a quiet date night with Evan, and few precious moments of crafting (yes indeedy, I've been crafty this break... painting, cross stitching, etc... lots of projects started, few finished). But even in the whirlwind of activity, I am so thankful.

I have renewed friendships and had lots of girls' nights, an activity I have been severely lacking. I have relied on myself more and Evan less. I have spent precious moments with my family and created countless memories with my friends. I have watched two of my close friends build a relationship and another friend totally rebuild her life and get back to her incredibly strong and hilarious self.

This break has been busy, but it's one for the records.

Old Souls

I'm an old soul. I know, I've mentioned it before, but I've been putting some thought into it recently.

My friend Erica, she's a hippie. She loves the Beatles and Mick Jagger, and she's a free spirit like no one you've ever met. She lights candles and mellows out, and she finds that "anticulture" fabulous (and trust me, Erica loves things to be fabulous).

Evan, on the other hand, loves the seventies. If there's a paisley-printed shirt in the shopping vicinity, Evan will find it. If it happens to have a wide collar as well, he'll buy it on the spot. And no matter how much I beg, he'll wear it in public sometimes. That man would love nothing more than a starring role in Saturday Night Fever, and I would never stand between him and his disco dreams.

Me, though... I'm a different story. Sure, I have my hippie moments. I love a good peasant blouse from time to time, and you might even catch me with a "love knot" tied in my hair once in a blue moon. I listen to Janis Joplin sometimes, and I love a good Bob Dylan number. I can get down to KC and the Sunshine Band, and when I watch So You Think You Can Dance the disco numbers are some of my favorites. But neither of those eras have ever thrilled me, really.

I've been in love with Frank Sinatra since I was a little girl. I've known, though, for years that it would never work between the Chairman and me. He's a boozing gangster, and I'm a strong-willed broad. Sure, there'd be passion, but the fights would be epic. Instead, somewhere in my tweens, I set my sights on Cary Grant. He's intelligent and witty, and he's so charming that I can completely overlook his real name... I might even call him Archie when it's just the two of us. And that accent... it's not really British, not really American. Just pure, heart-melting magic.

While other little girls were buying Hanson albums and watching Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead (or whatever), my daddy was renting countless classics for me, like Pillow Talk and Singin' in the Rain. I firmly believed that Rock Hudson and Doris Day were meant for each other, and Casablanca changed my life forever. I would love to wear full skirts with waspy waists, or even high-waisted slacks like Kate Hepburn. I could listen to Jimmy Stewart talk all day long, and Audrey Hepburn's Holly Golightly was my inspiration to be feminine but eccentric.

Golden Hollywood: that's where I belong... schmoozing with Ava Gardner and Bogey, wearing pillbox hats and silk stockings, and taking black and white glamour shots.

Meanwhile, people say I'm an old soul because I love to cross-stitch, and I'd love to learn how to knit and quilt. I want to be a flighty domestic like Laura Petrie. My Pandora station is always set on Bing Crosby or Dean Martin, and Evan knows that to earn brownie points he can order take-out and rent movies for me like The Philadelphia Story or Sabrina.

The Movie of My Life

For a while now, Evan and I have been casting people in the movie of our lives that we plan to produce one day with the most star-studded cast the world has ever seen. The perfect actor or actress is found in a very special moment, not sought out. We wait it out and let the actor come to us, like when we cast our friend Roeder. We were watching an episode of Friends when Chandler jumped up on the coffee table. In a fit of giggles, I knew: that's Roeder. Many people persistently try to cast themselves, but we always say no. It has to just happen; no one gets their first pick. I finally organized an album an introduced the cast to the world, but it's still a work in progress.

Evan's is one of my favorites because I love him and Matthew Morrison almost equally.

I love my dad as Steve Martin too; it's just too perfect.

Done. Done. Done.

Last night, I finished my senior project, my last project as an undergrad. I talk about that a lot, but I am not sure that it has really sunk in... or that it ever will since I'm going straight into grad school.

I just finished my homework. Literally, all that is left now is to turn it all in and graduate. Bizarre.

At work, all the interns have closed their files. My last day is tomorrow, so I can't really start anything new. To sum it up, I have nothing to do. Nothing. I did homework, which I'm not allowed to do. I updated my Urban Outfitters wishlist. I checked Alice and Jane's wishlists. I checked for new blog updates, but alas there were none. If only I had more friends that blogged... Dad, Alice, Lauren. I e-mailed my mom and Evan (I'm really in to correspondence).

Now I'm contemplating Christmas lists. I have a few things already for Ev, but not everything. I have Alice, John, and Sheila covered (last year, Evan and I decided not to get gifts for each other's parents... he totally went behind my back and bought my parents trinkets). I have some ideas for my dad, and something in the works for Thomas. That leaves my mom, Jane, Lauren, and Erica. Some of my favorite people, and yet my mind is drawing a blank.... thank goodness I have another 6 hours at work to think on it.

I am eating dinner tonight with Aubrey and Rebecca. Times like these are what I live for... just talking and catching up... and eating. They're Evan's cousins, but they are so precious to me that they feel like my own family. They are at this really fascinating chapter in their lives, and I love to hear about the friends they are making, the boys they are crushing on, and the classes that are ruining their college experience.

I wish my blogs had fun themes like Chasley's, whose blog is possibly my favorite. She is as funny in cyber space as she is in real life. Unfortunately, mine are really just stream-of-thought... lists and plans and random thoughts.

Evan's funny thought for today: "I think XS and XL should be changed to 'Tiny' and 'Huge', respectively. And anyone wearing an XXL should lose weight."

Happy Thursday.

Career choices.

I officially have a grad school schedule. Did I already mention that?

Full-time status for a grad school student is 9 hours, not twelve. I thought I would at least give that a shot and make sure I make it out alive before I dive into the crazy, and almost never completed, world of 12-hours. My one class on campus is on Monday or Tuesday... either way, beginning of the week... and my other two are online. So...

I've decided to substitute teach. My dad says if you make it through substitute teaching, you might just like education. So I guess this'll be my test. I'm thinking that, since I can participate in class from anywhere with Internet access, I'll try to sub at my very on Alma Mater as well as some Tuscaloosa County schools (which, incidentally, are huge and terrifying compared to my sweet 4A high school). Ideally, I could work on homework while the kiddies watch movies or do the pointless writing assignments that teachers leave while they're away. Maybe it won't work out that, but if it doesn't the other perk of substitute teaching is that my schedule is completely at my discretion. Huge paper due tomorrow? That's cool, I can't teach today.

I hadn't planned to work since I'm a "full-time student" so I figure a little work here and there is better than no work at all, regardless.

I just hope grad school doesn't blow up my world so much that I can't fit in one day of substitute teaching every once and a while...

Closing a chapter. Opening a chapter.

This morning I drove to work and started my last week as an intern and my last week as an undergraduate student.

This morning I listened to Christmas music in my car for the first time this season. I had to turn it up loud in order to hear it over the blaring heat that was struggling to satisfy my 85 degree request.

Yesterday I started on the last project I'll ever do as an undergraduate student... as an Auburn student.

Yesterday I sat down for the first time in my new advisor's office on the campus of the University of Alabama. Together, we mapped out my grad school career. "God willing and if the creek don't rise," I'll be a certified school counselor and Master of Arts by May 2012.

This past week, I watched the Auburn Tigers put up a valiant fight against UA and shut down Mark Ingram's Heisman ambitions at my last home game in Jordan-Hare stadium.

This past week, I took two of my friends from high school to Auburn to meet up with all my friends from college... and I watched as a couple of them formed what could be lasting "friendships."

This age is strange for me. Sometimes I sit back and watch the world fly past me. Many of my friends are searching for or settling into "grown-up jobs" and the "real world." Lots of my friends are getting married and joining their lives and beings with another person. And a few are entering graduate or professional school to continue their education. When did we get this old? Five minutes ago I was worried about who I would take to prom, and now I'm fighting the urge to plan my own wedding as I watch some of my best friends plan theirs. It seems likes yesterday I was toasting to the New Years with all my single friends at the beach; within a year, everyone on that trip is now in a relationship... and we're already planning another New Year's celebration.

Don't get me wrong: I love to see it all happening. It's a thrilling part of life, seeing who becomes what and finding out about a new engagement every other weekend. But wow. How did I get here?