Monday, November 19, 2012

Winter is Coming 'Round

Yeah, yeah. It's been too long. November is over half done already. Craziness.
I won't bother with a long update. Don't much care to consider the past few weeks, to be honest. Life is still trudging along.
Mom brought back a computer from Grandma's house (I think it was Grandpa's) and Wes got it set up for Allenna and I. We both suffered computer crashes in the last few months. The new computer is a good ol' desktop, and I've been avoiding having to use the keyboard. I was just getting used to Dad's, which I've now decided I don't dislike half so much as I'd said I did. There's no Microsoft Word installed yet, which means I can't access my writing files. (For some reason, they all turn to gibberish if opened with WordPad or Notepad.)
But now I'm blogging, at last.
We got snow last Tuesday. Granted, it was just flurries and it didn't stick, but it was our first snowfall of the season. Since Friday we've had foggy nights and mornings. Cool to look at, but scary to drive in. I actually haven't been the one driving yet, and I'm not too eager to try. We've also seen plenty of sunshine, which is great.
I've been fighting a cold since last Tuesday. It started as a tickle in my throat and, by the next day, had developed into a nasty head and chest cold. Then it was a stuffy nose and a cough. Now I have remnants of the cough and a slightly runny nose. And just when I was thinking I would be the only one in the family to get it, Wes and Allenna mentioned sore throats. I'll get blamed for that.
Besides the massive headaches that make it feel like my head is going to explode, having to breathe through my mouth all night, and getting a coughing fit in church, I discovered another problem with having a cold: stuffy noses make it very hard to read books out loud. I babysat on Friday night, when my cold was reduced to sniffles and a choke. I felt bad just trying to maintain a conversation with the parents. Then the kids decided they both wanted me to read a whole bunch of books to them. Normally, I'd be loving that, especially because the boy prefers to be more active and only his sister begs for me to read a third and fourth book, but they both insisted on Friday. If they understood half of what I was reading, I'd be surprised.
On Saturday, Mom, the girls, and I went on a shopping trip with some ladies from church. It's an annual thing, and the intention is to get a bulk of the Christmas shopping done. Neither Mom nor I am are much of shoppers. We both like to go, get what we need, and leave, and neither of us much cares for window shopping if we don't have money. However, on occasion I don't mind it, and the mall we go to is bigger than our own (and also nearly 2 hours away, but worth it). I've been on the last three or four trips. Last year we went twice; once with the ladies and once as a family a couple weeks later. It was nice then because I had a significant amount of money for the first time, and I got most of my Christmas shopping done.
This time, I got some things for Mom and Heather, but.... Yeah, I spent the rest of my money on myself. I do feel kind of bad about that, but the rest of the family wants things that require all of us pitching in, or things like gift cards and money to spend at the local used bookstore (don't worry, she already knows). Plus, the mall had a Teavana store!
Teavana tea was on my Christmas list, but I figured I make it easier on Mom and Dad and take care of it myself so they wouldn't have to worry about it.  :p  I also put the Underland Chronicles on my list, so it's all good. (If my family doesn't understand my desire for books as gifts, they understand tea even less so. Which usually means my Christmas presents are a complete surprise, which I enjoy.)
Okay, I know there was something I wanted to post about, but I can't think of it right now. Bother it all. I should know by now that this is what comes of waiting so long between posts. I didn't mean to. I started writing one last Tuesday, but I didn't get very far.
Oh, well.
It's hard to believe it's Thanksgiving week! For us, this means morning routes during the week and pizza for our Thanksgiving meal (still not sure how that became a tradition). Our house seems to run through a cycle of cleanliness and disorder, and, in honor of the holiday, Mom bumped things up so the clean part of the cycle is coming around. (Yes, roll your eyes. It's a stupid pattern to which I contribute and from which I ought to withdraw my support.) This means that, while I write this, the counters are waiting to be cleaned and the laundry to be put away. We're also planning to move our old, very used table out into the garage and bring in a "new" table given to us by some friends a while ago. Somehow that hasn't happened until just now.
That's life?

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Someday, my prince will come?

My cousin is getting married tomorrow.
She's the first grandchild on Mom's side of the family to get married. It's a tinny bit bittersweet, since Grandpa died this May. That's where Mom and Wes are. They took a train! Of course, it was in the middle of the night, but still. A train! I'd take that over a plane any day.
Meanwhile, I'm home alone. Again.
Well, not entirely. Dad's here, just at work. By now, I'm pretty used to this routine. Possibly too used to it. I had Hershey pick the movie last night. And then I cried through the movie. ("Ms. Potter", if you were wondering.) And then I watched "Push", about superheroes. Well, superhumans. And ate macaroni pies. Which I made while listening to Christmas music.
I was going somewhere with this, I know it. I think it was going to be deep and thoughtful. Somehow.
Oh. Right. Weddings.
And, no, I'm not going to talk about my wedding dreams. (Oh, goodness! Last week I had another. Well, it wasn't the wedding exactly. And the guy had a face! But I digress.)
Years ago, when I was, like, twelve, I fantasized about being married by the time I was 18. Probably in part because that's when Mom got married. I've always been in favor of marrying young. (Not absurdly young, mind you.) As I got older, I waited and waited for "the ONE" to magically appear and sweep me off my feet.
Is it because I read too many fairytales? The only romances I like are the old classics, like Pride and Prejudice, where there's more to the plot than just the romance.
Anyway. Obviously, I'm even in a relationship yet. And whenever I consider the fact, I feel begrudingly grateful. I doubt I would have been ready emotionally for a relationship even 6 months ago.
Mind you, I don't agree with the whole attitude of "waiting till we're ready", because my experiences with life have proven that things never line up the way we imagine. That's life for you.
As time went on, I found more and more people and books talking about having contentment in singleness. For a while, I agreed with my mouth but not with my heart. Somehow I figured God would agree with me and toss a shiny knight into my path just because my heart said I was ready.I built all my dreams around it. I spent my time staring off into the distance, waiting for Mr. Right to crest the horizon, wondering if maybe his horse threw a shoe on the way over, and generally pining away for something I'd read and fantasized about and about which I still have no clue.
Finally, I got jogged on the head hard enough that it clicked: singleness is a stage of life, not a transition. Life doesn't run childhood-transition-marriage-happily ever after. After the big mental/emotional growth spurt, when we start realizing what life is about, is a new stage. Where I'd been spending all my time waiting for the next stage to arrive, thinking of it as being what my life was all about, I was wasting valuable time.
Singleness is an opportunity, just like every other stage. It has its own challenges, its own chances to grown and learn and do important things. It's to be embraced, not endured.
Some of you might be rolling your eyes. "Yeah, duh. Is that what you've been thinking all this time?" Give me a break. I take a while to catch on. I'd actually welcome a helpful slap every once in a while.
Here we go again. Another thought I can't quite put into words. Bother it all.
Okay, fairytales. Most of those ditzy princesses and scullery maids had one goal in mind: find the prince (or otherwise exceedingly dashing, witty, chivalrous, well-built, man) and fall in love-at-first-sight. Subconciously, I'd made my role model more like Ariel the dreamer (sorry, Jessi) and Snow White, the whistful maid singing into wells and listening to her own voice echoing obnoxiously. In fact, it's supposed to be more like Rapunzel (the Disney one): reading, painting, learning to cook and play guitar and make candles, and carrying on lengthy conversations with a sarcastic amphibian. You know, not wasting her time gazing out of windows thirty stories in the air. She wasn't even thinking about being resuced by a dashing rouge with what, frankly, I think is a ridiculous smolder.
Okay, so maybe not quite like Rapunzel, but I hope you get my meaning.
Yes, I really just wanted to try to make a comparison to Disney princesses. Then there's Belle, who sees the true man behind the hideous face.... Ah, I give up.
My point goes back to my ever-present theme of making the most of every moment; something I still fail at quite regularly. I spend my days waiting for the perfect man to come along, and all the while I'm not working to grow into the strong, spiritual, helpful, smart woman he deserves and is looking for. I have at my fingertips everything I need to grow into that person. Or - deep breath - I may never get married. (I hate considering that alternative, but this is reality.) Either way, God has a plan for my life, and He's shown me the kind of person I need to be in order to be the most effective, with a man at my side or all by my brave, adventurous self. I'm the same person either way. I know what I need to do, and instead of wasting time waiting for God to take my advice and just give me the guy and expect it all to work out beautifully despite my lack of efforts to prepare, I should be doing something. Anything, really.
It's an attitude I have to force myself to adopt every day. It's painful and itchy and two sizes too small for my silly day-dreaming heart, but it's the goal. I've been laying out all my dreams like the plot to a fairytale. Have you noticed they don't usually get far beyond "I do" and the happily-ever-after spiel?
Fact is, it's still life. It will still have its challenges, and I still have to be ready to meet them. A kiss doesn't magically solve everything.
So here I am, 18 and...more than a half, and learning to make the most of it. Or trying. And I'm starting to realize that, unfortunately, we never stop growing. Maybe growing up, yes, but not growing. Again, that's life. Why does it have to be so confusing?

Thursday, November 1, 2012

November and Playing with My Hair

It's November now. I'd like to be well into the first day of NaNoWriMo, but between not having my own computer and being in the middle of two stories, I'm not. Ah, well.
It's freezing cold. Like, barely 50 now. Cold enough to warrant snow, which we still don't have. (By the way, I said I wanted snow, and then along came Sandy. That wasn't what I had in mind. We ended up getting freezing rain and lots of wind.) And I can't find my good pair of fingerless gloves. So my teeth chattered while I waited for Heather's car to warm up when I ran errands.
Mom and Wes are on a trip, and the girls have a youth retreat coming up, which leaves Dad and me for routes on Saturday and Sunday. (Our subs are the youth pastor's family, and they'll be at the retreat.) I'm just oozing enthusiasm. Not my idea of quality time with Dad.
Anyway!
For a while I've been looking for ways to curl my hair. It's not that I've always dreamed of having curly hair. Okay, for a while I did. Now, however, I am perfectly content with my hair color and type. I rarely use a blow drier (unless I've been moving slow and don't want to go to work with wet hair) and never use a curling iron. I have a hard time styling my hair because I'm not big on messing with it, like ratting and gunking and hair-spraying.
But once in a while, it's nice to change things up. Jessi learned this new way of curling her hair, but I don't think I have the patience for it: constantly twirling my hair while it dries isn't for me.
There's always the whole putting-my-wet-hair-in-curlers-and-sleeping-with-them method, but usually I style my hair for church, and I am not a fan after doing that last year for the Christmas party (especially doing routes like that).
Yesterday, I saw the hot curlers Mom got a while ago and figured, "Why not? It's worth a try." I'd just taken a shower, and to use the curlers my hair needed to be dry. I gunked it up with my favorite styling cream (Noodle Head, if you care to know), and scrunched a little. Then I mopped the kitchen floor. (Sadly, mopping doesn't happen nearly as often as it should.) I ended up doing it Cinderella-style.
My hair was still a little wet, so I added more cream and blow-dried. And didn't brush it. I have a hard time letting my hair get messy like that.
Then I added the curlers. I was going for loose waves, but for some reason I couldn't manage it. Maybe I left them in too long? While they were in, I mopped the entry way floor. Then I took them out.
Not loose waves. Try tight, bouncy ringlets. Like, my hair was almost to my shoulders, and straight it hangs down to the middle of my back (or thereabouts).
Add some hairspray, finger-comb, pull back a little, and swish in front of the mirror for a good 10 minutes giggling like an idiot.
I don't normally do much with my hair; a fact that got it chopped when I was fifteen. I prefer long hair, but it takes more effort to dress it up. I've learned a lot of ways to do braids. However, I don't do a lot of loose, hanging styles. Curls are a nice compromise. Now I just have to figure out how to use the curlers so I get waves.
Allenna saw me when I had finished making faces in the mirror, and I offered to try it on her hair. She has shorter, finer hair and layers, so it took some work, but we finally figured it out. We both were actually quite dressed up for church.
I didn't brush my hair before bed, and when I woke up some of the curls were still intact. When I managed to brush it all out, it was a poufy mess. Braid it is!