Strange Love.

My boyfriend, Evan, at random-- usually quiet-- times will pose theoretical questions to me to pass the time. A lot of the time they involve celebrities, and it's usually a hard choice, like... "Dr. Cox or Dr. House?" Dr. Cox is a devious but lovable doctor from one of my favorites shows, Scrubs. Dr. House is a devious but lovable doctor from another favorite, House. They're both enormous jerks but so clever and witty that you can help but feel endeared to them and even attracted. Maybe it's that complex that many women struggle with... hoping to find the rebel that only she can change. That's how it goes in my television-doc fantasies... the untamable is tamed by me, of course.

One of Evan's other favorite questions to pose is this: Who is your weirdest crush?

My answer is always.... Conan O'Brien.

See what I mean? Not your traditional heart-thumpin' attractive. But there's something about ol' CoCo... he's genuine and very funny, and, most importantly he's very intelligent and tall.

I've thought a lot about this question for some reason, and I've come up with some other strange loves...

Again, these men are not stunning. You wouldn't walk past them on the sidewalk and do a double-take. What they have in common, though, is an incredible sense of humor. This is easily, in my humble opinion, the most attractive asset a man can have (other than height and good teeth... but they can't really help that, can they?). These are the kind of guys you could sit down and have a conversation with. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to hang out with Matt Damon or Josh Duhamel, but let's be honest... I'm going to have a hard time forming words with drool pouring out of my mouth. They're not the kind of guys I can be myself around. Steve and me, though, we could shoot the breeze... he'd tell me jokes and fall in love with my laugh (because he'd be hearing a lot of just that). Bill would try out his latest impressions on me, and I'd sweetly critique them and try out a few of my own (I do a mean Ashlee Simpson). Will and I would talk about the good times and friends we have in common (other than Steve, Conan, Andy, and Bill), like my former Swedish exchange student David... who taught Will how to ice skate for Blades of Glory. Andy would probably right a sweet parody about me, but he'd manage to make it a YouTube success along the way.

Yep, there ya have it... my weird crushes... my funny faces.

i'm not gonna write you a love song.

I've been thinking about love a lot lately.

I use the word 'love' too much... but I love it.

So I just searched "love quotes from movies" because there's nothing like a good romantic movie when you're with your girlfriends or on a very special occasion when your boyfriend will actually watch a romantic movie... and these are a few that I liked.

He was like an angel, you know? I never knew life could be like that. He was the one thing I followed through in my life, the one thing I didn't give up on. I was good at loving him.

-- The Untamed Heart

And of course...

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it that you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

--Ten Things I Hate About You"

If you love someone you say it, you say it right then, out loud. Otherwise the moment just...
passes you by...

-My Best friend's Wedding

When you realise You want to spend
The rest of your life with somebody,
You want the rest of your life
To start as soon as possible.
--When Harry Met Sally

If I tell you I love you, can I keep you forever?

-- Casper

This kind of love certainly comes, but once in a lifetime.

-- Bridges of Madison County

A name makes no matter to me, as long as I can call you my own.

-- A Knight's Tale

You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love and love and love you.

-- Pride and Prejudice

In these dreams I've loved you so, that by now I think I know what it's like to be loved by you. I will love being loved by you.

-- The King and I

I will love you my whole life. You and no other.

-- Braveheart

I could go on and on, because yes... this is what I do with my free time. I read about love and hope that I can feel all these things and that someone is inspired to feel them about me.

What a Day That Will Be

21 months ago, my grandfather was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. For those of you that don't know, in the world of cancers, pancreatic is a beast. It's the bully on the playground. It's fast-moving, painful, and aggressive. In April 2008, he was given until August 2008... and come August 2009, he was fairly certain he'd make it 'til Christmas. And he did. And he just missed his 83rd birthday by a month.

So today I sat in my grandfather's funeral. I sat and watched as the men at Lebanon Methodist Church brought extra chairs into the tiny chapel because the outpouring of love was so great and so large. I listened to stories of my grandfather's kindness and wit and laughed at the gentle pokes at his stubbornness and hesitance to spend money (my great-uncle was told by a car salesman NOT to bring Papaw back to the car lot). I didn't cry, though. I'm not a crier, and sometimes that embarrasses me... but not today. There is a void in my life where my sweet grandfather was, but his passing is a victory. He lived and loved and did both to the fullest.

People love to canonize the dead. My grandfather was no saint. I have seen him lose his temper. I have heard him utter and even exclaim phrases that cannot be repeated here. But Papaw never pretended to be perfect. In fact, he was quite humble and loved to love on others. He often embarrassed me by saying, "Lindsey got all her good looks from me... but she didn't leave me any!" He loved a good joke, and he loved to share stories. He taught me how to bait a hook with a live worm and how a "horse eats corn." The one thing he left me specifically is his gold-triggered shotgun, the one fabled to have killed my great-uncle Jim, and he loved that I was a better shot than my boyfriend. A day wasn't complete if he didn't work with his hands, and he would build frog caves in the sandbox for my cousins and me when we were small. More than once I brought my college friends home to his farm, and he delighted in teaching them how to cast a fishing line and introducing them to "Fred the Fish." Of course, you couldn't even get to the pond without a hayride behind the tractor or just a ride in the bed of the truck, where he would sling his leg over the side but caution everyone else to hold on for dear life.

No, my grandfather was no saint, but he was a good and strong man. Today I celebrated because today he is a good and perfect man. He is whole and happy and healthy, and I know this because I know my Papaw knew Jesus as his Savior. My mom and I have laughed a lot recently and mused about my brother dragging Papaw around Heaven showing him the ropes and introducing him to the whole gang. I like to think, too, that Papaw is fishing with the disciples and comparing notes on biggest catches (he caught a 20-pound bass on Smith Lake once).

This song was sang at the funeral today, and it hit me like never before. It's not just a funeral song, but a very real and exciting concept:

There is coming a day when no heartaches shall come
No more clouds in the sky, no more tears to dim the eye.
All is peace forevermore on that happy golden shore,
What a day, glorious day that will be.

What a day that will be when my Jesus I shall see,
And I look upon His face,
The One who saved me by His grace;
When He takes me by the hand
And leads me through the Promised Land,
What a day, glorious day that will be.

There'll be no sorrow there, no more burdens to bear,
No more sickness, no pain, no more parting over there;
And forever I will be with the One who died for me,
What a day, glorious day that will be.

What a day that will be when my Jesus I shall see,
And I look upon His face,
The One who saved me by His grace;
When He takes me by the hand
And leads me through the Promised Land,
What a day, glorious day that will be.
What a day, glorious day that will be!

I think this may be a re-run.

I love the holidays.

Love them.

That being said... The holidays are a marathon: they are high-energy and exhausting. Family members come in from afar and stay for days on end, which I consider a tremendous blessing, but in the wake of 5 family meals-a-day, coffee with high school friends, Tacky Christmas and other holiday parties, spontaneous class reunions, and late-night gab fests with old friends, there is very little time to just be.

There is not a lot of time to catch my breath and gaze into a Lake Guntersville sunset, and there's not a lot of time to meditate on God's glory. I have a hard time fitting in my quiet time, and when I do have a down moment I am incredibly selfish with it. It's incredibly hard not to snuggle up with my latest biography (Vivien Leigh waits for no one, I like to say), and sometimes just a long indulgent, hot shower has my name written all over it.

Lately, though, I have had the privilege of talking to some very dear friends about very serious matters. Sure, we talk about who's married to who and where so-and-so is now, but from time to time our conversations take a deeper turn into spirituality and our walks with our Maker. In fact, I have several sweet friends who talk about their relationship with Christ in their everyday conversation, and that is so refreshing to me.

I am so easily distracted. I mean that 100%. I am an interruptor, and I seldom finish a story without telling two or three side stories within it. So when I decide now is the perfect time to sit down and get into the Word, it is no big surprise that I am at the computer blogging about it instead.

But here is my resolution (just a little late): to make time, to make it my priority, to sit down and read a devotion and Scripture, to pray daily, and to talk openly and often about my walk. My prayer for this season of my life is to get plugged in somewhere... to some sort of Bible study, or just to find a church home in Tuscaloosa.

So there it is. I am so tired; the holidays, although thrilling and practically perfect, have completely worn me out. I am just reaching that point, two days before I return to the mania of grad school, where I can rest.

Now I'm going to hit the Good Book. I'm reading with it as my devotion My Utmost for His Highest, and it is so, so convicting.

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.