Switching Directions

This video clip makes me laugh. I am such a goober!

This was taken when I was abroad in England for those 2 glorious weeks last May (can't believe it's almost been a year). I was trying to capture a video of the guard strutting his stuff out in front of Prince Charles' London home. I managed to catch the image. I did. However, I failed to notice that my camera was not adjusting the orientation (like an iPhone screen does) even when I switched directions, and thus, I created a rather crazy video clip. But it could happen to anyone, right?

OK, so it gives your neck a bit of a kink, doesn't it? In my defense, it looked great on the screen. AHEM! And I was a bit distracted. I mean, I've always been a sucker for a man in uniform...SIGH! HA!

A Tribute to My Parents

I’m spending Easter back home in Michigan, and I’m psyched. I chatted with my Mom last night, and she giddily asked if I would help her color Easter Eggs on my visit. I told her that I would be delighted to. Sounds like fun to me! I love mixing the colors to make new colors. Yes, usually I wind up with some sort of brown shade, but hey, brown is one of my top 3 colors (right up there with orange and green – can you tell that I love fall?).

I love that about my Mom. She is still a kid at heart. She always gets a kick out of life. She gets pleasure in the big and little things. Every moment has potential for joy, and she finds it – whether it is in finishing a crossword puzzle, completing a HARD Sudoku puzzle, beating my Dad at Mexican train (again), experimenting on the family with a new recipe she found, reading books to my 94-year-old Grandma, jetting off on her bicycle for a ride around the block. And if there is no happiness to be found, she makes it.

I didn’t always appreciate my Mom’s way of making me look at life. My melancholy tween years were a trial on both of us. Looking back now, I can see that she was just trying to make me see that joy was always within my grasp. I had a choice, two options lay before me. Now I typically chose the other path and wallowed or sulked, but her attempts to make me laugh in my misery often won out in the end.

My Mom is a heroine in my book.

Now I often brag about my Mom, and maybe it seems like I don’t say enough about my Dad. Let me remedy that.

My Dad is pretty special.

I always thought of myself as a Daddy’s girl. I had 3 older brothers, and I wanted to be one of the guys, too. I would often “help” my Dad in the basement as he worked with his tools, and I was his “assistant” when it came to our family camping trips (notice that I am using terms very loosely here—HA!). My Dad and I had a system of specific tasks we each would do when setting up our pop-up trailer on location, and nothing made me prouder than to please him. I know I tried his patience more than he ever let me know.

My Dad is a pretty direct man. He has opinions and deep-rooted beliefs, and he instilled in his daughters the need for character and the courage to stand for something. He’s a strong Christian leader and a tower of strength, but he is more than that as well. He is a gentle man who loves his grandkids. He is so smart. He’s full of facts and history and remembers dates like no one else I have ever encountered. He has a dry sense of humor and an appreciation for wit. Yes, he can appear to be rough around the edges from time to time, but as his daughter, I’m well aware that his occasional gruffness hides a deeply generous and kind heart. He’s actually a romantic, who loves surprising my Mom with gifts or tokens. She’ll mention something in passing, and that very item will magically appear. I love that quiet sweetness he shows.

Growing up, I concentrated so much on bettering the father-daughter dynamic that it is as if I missed out on the fact that I had 2 amazing parents. As an adult, I’ve worked to correct that and learned to appreciate my Mom more and more. Not more than my Dad but more of the same. Now I am finally able to see exactly how loving, strong and amazing both of my parents were and still are. They didn’t change. My perspective did.

Mom and Dad: You are the best! Thanks for everything! I love you guys. XOXO

Practicing Parenting

I’m not a Mother myself. I don't even play one on TV, but I have a great respect for Mothers especially after this past weekend. My Mom is amazing, and like Mother like daughter, my younger sister is definitely following suit. She has 3 children: Jacob (7), Grace (4) and Harrison (2). This past weekend, Auntie Mel (aka yours truly) headed North to hang out with the kids for a couple of days while both of their parents were away in Ohio. The weather was disappointing, and so we didn’t get outside much at all, but the 5 of us (that includes Thorn, the family black lab) had fun indoors anyway...

Coloring: several hours worth. Grace is a cheerleader with the gift of encouragement, and she has taught her brother well. Harrison stopped coloring every few minutes to exclaim that my picture was “Bootiful.” I loved that. I felt very encouraged and glad that a 2-year-old appreciated my artistic talents!

Candy Land: excessive amounts of time. I played no fewer than 12 games of Candy Land with Grace. It is her favorite game by far, and she is pretty awesome at it. She enjoys games a lot like her Grandma (my Mom) does and with a similar sweet spirit. I kept teasing her because she won most of our games, and she would respond with, “It doesn’t matter who wins the game, Aunt Mel. We are just playing for fun.” Very sweet!

Battleship: about an hour. Yes, I won, but Jacob is getting better and more strategic at his ship placements. It’s only a matter of time before he whips the socks off of me. Is it wrong not to let him win? Does this make me a bad aunt?

Memory: about an hour. Even Harrison joined in a couple of games of the old classic Memory. Kids are so amazing at that game. I must be getting old.

Movies: a couple of hours. We didn’t watch much TV, but we had movie night on Friday complete with 4 bags of popcorn. YIKES! I didn’t realize that those little mouths could put away so much popcorn.

Computer Games: about an hour. I was finally introduced to the Plants vs. Zombies game my sister has told me about. WOW! It’s...well, it’s interesting.

Time on my Own: zilch. My sister often jokes about how she would kill for just a few minutes of privacy each day. Being a mother of 3 plus the lovable family dog, she rarely gets a moment to herself. By comparison, a single girl without pets has quite a bit of time on her own, but I certainly didn’t experience that this weekend. I couldn’t step away for a minute without someone coming to find me. The kids were always near me whether I was in the kitchen putting away dishes, in the bathroom trying to catch a 3-minute shower, etc. No room was sacred! Even Thorn followed me around. I think he felt that since we were the only 2 “adults,” we should stick together. HA! He was always at my heels. He slept next to me, too, which was a new experience for me, but I have to say I found it rather comforting.

The kids were very well-behaved. Sure, they are little sin-filled creatures just like their old Aunt Mel, but we managed quite well together. My sister likes to encourage her children creatively, inspiring them to try new things and develop new skills, while also providing them with character-building opportunities. She is a motivator, an encourager and an all-around well-balanced Mom. I’m proud of her. And after this weekend, I appreciate her parenting skills all the more. You are doing a great job, Sis. Keep it up!

P.S. I guess, Jonathan gets a little bit of credit for the kids, too. Hee hee!

Google: Sometimes Too Much Information

MENTAL NOTE: Do not Google random medical symptoms unless you are in need of having more to worry about and starting a personal panic attack. [Bring on the paper bag!]

I have what I think is just an allergic reaction rash on my ears. It is not visible to the naked eye. I can’t even see it in the mirror, but I can feel tiny little bumps on the back of my ears that were not there earlier. So I innocently checked Google and was stunned due to the wide range of possible scenarios: from HIV to measles, from cancer to eczema, from Syphillis to dry skin and a bunch of other things I can’t even pronounce. YIKES!

So I’m gonna stick with my first uneducated, unresearched medical theory. It’s an allergic reaction of some kind, and I am a survivor!

Yes, I'm a Foodie.

My friend Barb and I chat often. We used to work in the same department at work, but now we are not even in the same building, and soon she will be moving to another building on campus that is even farther away from me. SIGH! It is quite a struggle. We really have to work hard to maintain our long-distance friendship. HA!

Barb and I usually go to lunch together a couple of times a month, and the joke is that we start IM-ing each other early in the morning to debate where we are going for lunch. So at 7 AM this morning, I got an IM from Barb asking about lunch today. She joked about how she had made herself wait until 7 to pose the question, and I laughed. I had just finished my breakfast and already we were talking lunch. HA! Works for me!

Yep, I’m a foodie. Food is a big part of my life. As soon as I finish one meal, I’m thinking about what the next will be. I confess it. It’s my reality.

I am continuing on Weight Watchers, and little by little by little by little, the pounds are coming off. My cupboards are full of healthy food options to keep my temptations to a minimum, and I’m back to walking 2-3 times a week. I’m starting to do the walk/jog thing again where I go back and forth from walking to jogging, etc. I love that. It feels good to be active again out in the fresh air and enjoying the beauty of our CREATOR’s handiwork while Chris Rice, Brandon Heath or Sara Groves sing in my ears. It's great!

OK, so it's not all roses. It’s not easy working on weight loss and changing old habits, but I know this is the right thing to do. Everyone keeps telling me to take it (the weight) off before I reach 40. I don’t know what happens at 40, but apparently once women reach that pinnacle, losing weight becomes much harder. I’m rather glad I have 4 years before that happens. Wait a minute! GASP! ONLY FOUR YEARS!?! I just felt a chill run up my spine. I better go. I think I need to control my hyper-ventilating with a paper bag now...Hee hee!

Struggling with My Own Insignificance

Sometimes, just sometimes--mind you, I struggle with my own insignificance. I want to be doing more. There are so many things I want to take on. I want my life to mean something, and I start to compare where I am in my life to where others are. I start to ponder how small my life is, weigh how insignificant my contributions to society are, question my own value, etc.

Now I used to think that only single people struggled with this. After all, a married person has someone ALL the time who needs them or would notice if they came up missing, right? Spouses have each other, parents have their children, but as a singleton I didn’t have that buddy system. But I think my earlier thoughts on this subject were more than a bit tainted. I think MOST of us (if we are honest with ourselves) struggle with validation from time to time. We would like an attaboy or attagirl, a bit of affirmation, recognition for a job well done, a thank you for our contributions, or just a plain acknowledgement that we matter. We WANT someone to tell us that we matter, that our existence is not random, that we have a purpose we were placed here for. We seek validation, and unfortunately, we often turn away from GOD to get it.

We throw ourselves into relationships, hoping that it will give us a more meaningful life. We become problem solvers and try to fix everything that needs fixing around us. We drive ourselves to betterment in our careers or hobbies. We become doers, always seeking out the next best project to get involved with.

All of these things can be wonderful, challenging opportunities that GOD can bless and use in our lives. These things are not bad in themselves, but if we are seeking validation through our projects or through other people, we are missing out on the real satisfaction that comes from knowing that we are not insignificant to GOD. Our existence is relevant to GOD. We matter to HIM.

Yes, YOU matter. And I matter.

I am not just another face to HIM. I am unique. I am special in HIS eyes. I am noticed by my MAKER. And it is through the sacrifice of HIS only SON, that I am validated. Through the cross, I became a legitimate member of the Family of GOD, and I belong. I may not be worthy of HIS love, and yet I have it all the same.

I did not earn my significance, my relevance to GOD. No amount of accomplishments or good works could bolster my own significance before HIM. HE simply chose to love me and to draw me to HIMSELF, and it is my response to that overwhelming love that continues to plot my path.

This is better than a fairy tale. I didn’t need a fairy godmother to transform me from the wretched Cinderella into a lovely princess just to catch the eye of prince charming. No, this story is even more remarkable. The PRINCE saw me in the gutter from the first. No need for a magic slipper or a pumpkin couch to make me relevant to HIM. HE saw me, wanted me as HIS own just as I was, and even now continues to transform me with HIS neverending love.

Romans 5:8 "But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."

GOD loves us! What could be more significant than that?

Hello. My Name is Melanie, and I'm an Addict...

There I said it. I admit it. I have a problem. An addiction I choose to feed. A hunger. A desire for more. It strikes me often. I resist as long as I can. I fight off the “need.” I attempt to avoid the temptation. But “the want” always comes back. It is there even now bubbling just under the surface.

Yes, it’s true. I am addicted to hardcover books. I collect them. I want them. I "need" them all around me. I yearn for them. Today, I found several at Barnes & Noble in the bargain section and skipped with glee to the counter, bearing my priceless treasures before a chap named Gary. Perhaps, he missed the twinkle in my eye or the bounce in my step as I went through the checkout process, but I could hardly contain myself. I love bargains on hardcover books — what could be better?

Not 3 hours after my aforementioned fix, I chose to proceed to an area Books-A-Million for more enticements, where I discovered 3 carts full of $1 hardcover books. (BIG SIGH!) It was a stunning sight. Suddenly the sun was shining, birds were singing, and I was ready to twirl and burst into song. Life was good! Afterwards, I resisted further iniquity by not driving to Half Price Books after my spending spree of $6 at B-A-M, but there is always tomorrow.

I feel drawn to those alluring aisles of hardcover materials. I love the feel of a book in my hands — the smooth paper cover, the smell of the ink inside, the varied fonts sprawled across the off-white page. It’s delightful. It's warmth to my very soul. And while it's true that some of today's selections will turn out not to be worthy of their bound backing, I can't wait to find out. What will these crisp pages say to me? What magic or revelation will I discover within?

Over the years, my library has grown and grown. I have many books on my shelves that I have yet to read, but they are there, waiting for me — my own private collection of other people’s thoughts. It’s an eccentric mix, but most were hand-picked by yours truly, and I dote on them. I dust their spines, I take them out for play and relive my favorite scenes, I curl up on the couch and spend quality time with them. Yes, I consider us friends. After all, the relationship between a girl and her hardcover books is a beautiful thing.

OK, I'm off to my next therapy session now... Hee hee!

I Wanted to Die**

These are the words my Mom said while sharing a story about her eldest daughter, yours truly. Not exactly what every child wants to hear their Mother say about them. OK, so it was in relation to my birth story, but still, I wasn’t quite prepared for the resulting conversation.

Yesterday was my birthday, and my parents called to wish me a happy 3_th birthday. OK, why hide it? I turned 36. (BIG SIGH!) Anyway...

“Melanie, I remember that day so like it was yesterday.”

“Really because I don’t remember it at all. It’s pretty fuzzy for me.” We chuckle, and then I just had to go on and ask that question that will now haunt me: “So how many hours of labor did you have with me?” I had forgotten and was curious.

Silly me. I thought she was going to have to mull it over or run and look it up in my baby book, but no she quickly sputtered out: “22 hours, and it was awful! I wanted to die. No, I really did. I told the nurses that more than once.”

“WOW, Mom! I’m not sure what to say now.”

“Well, it was horrible…” (She went into far greater detail here than I wanted to hear, and so I’ll spare you those horrific details. After all, I got chills just hearing about it. GULP!) “But then once you arrived, I quickly put those thoughts behind me. Mothers can do that, you know.”

MENTAL NOTE: I think you need to re-read this blog or call Mom more often to have this conversation every time you are bemoaning your lack of a family of your own. Childbirth is scary! OK, I know that Moms say it is totally worth it, but YIKES -- 22hours of intense labor! REALLY? Come on.

**I meant to post this weeks ago (since my birthday was February 23), but I just found the draft, and so I am posting it now.

The Writer In Me

Sometimes I think I am afraid to speak (aka blog) unless I have something brilliant to share, something insightful to relate, something deeply compelling or amazingly profound to discuss. HA! As if, I’m afraid I will scare away all 10 of my readers if I don’t give them something gripping, but my life isn’t that kind of novel. There have been some amazing chapters, and I optimistically think there are more ahead.

REAL LIFE isn’t always breathtakingly beautiful, whimsically interesting or overwhelmingly exciting. Those moments exist, but life is also lived out in the mundane: the silly happenings, trips to the grocery store, filling up the gas tank, going to work 40+ hours a week, watching too much TV, happily snapping photos of objects in my apartment with my new camera, jamming with my i-Turtle, etc. It’s good. It’s interesting to me. It’s just not always like a Friends episode. My story is my own.

I have a magnet on my fridge with one of my favorite quotes of all time:

“For a long time it seemed to me that life was about to begin – real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life. This perspective has helped me to see there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way. So treasure every moment you have and remember that time waits for no one. Happiness is a journey, not a destination.” — Souza

Isn't that amazing? I love it. I think I'm going to blog more or make an effort to recount the journey. Maybe my life won't be a page-turner every "episode," but I embrace it all the same, and I'm grateful for each moment.

I'm On a Creative Hiatus of Sorts...

Not exactly self-imposed -- rather a self-resignation to the status quo. I'm working in two different departments at work for a few weeks, and I'm pretty wiped out at the end of each day. There is little time for writing, taking photos (if I had a camera that is), or doing much of anything that involves my creative juices. But it's just a phase -- subject to change soon for which I am delighted. I haven't been able to completely tune out the ideas churning in my head, and I'll get back to blogging more regularly as soon as I can.

Happy Thursday!