The Journey

In March of 2002 my old Bible was falling apart. It was a hard cover Student Bible, the cover had fallen off and been duct taped back on a bunch. The cover had been covered in orange construction paper and had stickers on it, mainly for the purpose of taking it back and forth easier to places where taking a Bible isn't easy.
I decided it was time for a new copy of my favorite book.
I bought a blue leather NIV study Bible.
It was shiny and beautiful. It was hard to navigate compared to my old student Bible. There were no notes in the margins, no favorite underlined verses. It didn't flip to favorite sections easily.
Over time, as I journeyed through life with it, it broke itself in. It's sections got underlined in various colors of ink, pages got dog eared. It has traveled with me all over the country, it has been on a mission trip to South America. It made the emotional move from undergrad to grad school, and my parents moving back to the States for good. It made another move, from grad school in Michigan to my first real job in Kentucky, and from one church to another. It has been there for me when "friends" weren't really very friendly. It has been there when life was hard. It has been there when life has been really awesome. It has been thrown in backpacks, and shoved in suitcases. In fact there isn't any trip or any experience that the blue leather Bible hasn't literally traveled with me through.

Over the last year or so, it has really started to fall apart. The cover started to come off, and was glued back on, with rubber cement, and then again with super glue. It was glued back together and put in a vice.

Several weeks ago, a section came unattached from the binding. Then shortly after that, the binding split apart.

Then this past week the cover came off again.

As I was laying in bed this past week reading, I realized that Bible was ready for retirement, and it made me sad.

I thought about all the experiences that I, and there for the book, have been through. Missing friends, confusing relationships, big overwhelming decisions, great joys, great sorrows, all kinds of tears.

The thought of having to choose a new one, and start all over with stiff unmarked pages is actually a little intimidating. But like every journey, no matter how long it is, there is a time when it ends, and eventually you wind up back home.

Thankful Thursdays 7/28/2011

563. weekend plans
564. productivity
565. stepping out in faith
566. an awesome dinner with a friend

567. unexpected fun times

568. fire breathers, aerialists, people on stilts

569. meeting new people through ministry
570. a fellow New Englander here in the mid south
571. a marriage sermon that actually really applies to my life now, as a single woman
572. a good friend being in town for the week
573. little campers doing karaoka
574. the individual I refer to as my own personal comedian
575. thought provoking articles about how I allow media to shape my views
576. camp friends
577. a new job for my best friend
578. an Ipad to make me more productive at work
579. little kids dancing
580. fields of sunflowers

581. Old people dancing

liquid gold

When I was a kid we made a yearly trip to my grandparent's house in Michigan. The thing about my grandparents house that I remember most is that sitting on the floor between the fridge and the counter were liters of slice.

Yes folks, slice, not sprite, it was too expensive. The other thing about the slice was that it was made completely clear to us that under no circumstances were we allowed to drink the slice. Absolutely. No. Slice. Ever. Only grandma was allowed to drink the slice.

We kids, my brothers and I, didn't really drink soda anyway, and given the opportunity to choose between soda and a beverage like water or milk, we were most likely going to choose water or milk. But the Slice was so novel, so off limits.

Normally while at my grandparents house, the adults sat in the den talking about exciting things like geological rock formations and hearing my grandfathers old World War II stories.

Shortly after the talking commenced, my brothers and I would head outside to kick a soccer ball around. Then shortly after that we would get yelled at for kicking the soccer ball around, not by my parents, they would have preferred for us to run around, and work off some nervous energy. Then we would head to the basement where we would watch tv on a tiny 4" tv, and play on an old telephone from the old farm house in Illinois. I can describe in great detail the basement of my grandparents house and it's contents, the upstairs, not so much.

Anyway, we would be hungry and thirsty, but there were no snacks allowed at Grandmas. We were used to fruit sitting out all the time at home that we could take when we wanted, and so we would sit in the basement starving.

During Desert Storm when we lived with my grandparents for several months, I discovered that my grandmother horded candy in the drawers of the dressers in the guest room, but those were always unopened so they were not an option.

So instead what my brothers and I would do, is that one of us would sneak up stairs, tip toe through the kitchen, grab the Slice, and some cups. Then the one assigned to the task would run back into the basement where we would each poor about 2 tablespoons of the liquid gold into our plastic cups. The slice would be returned to the kitchen, in the same manner it was obtained, making sure that the label was facing the way it was when it was taken, as if my grandmother was meticulous to notice something like that.

After the slice was returned to it's place we would sit in the basement and slowly sip our approximate 2 tablespoons worth. We couldn't take more than that, wouldn't want Grandma to notice that any had been taken.

The sipping of the slice was always followed by a thorough washing of the cups in the sink in the basement to erase any trace to the sugary carbonated beverage.

Recently I was retelling that story to my mom, she never knew that we had been stealing the slice. She said "that's funny because I remember Mother stating that the slice was disappearing rather quickly."

Thankful Thursday 7/21/2011

542. a weekend spent cleaning out and getting rid of stuff
543. clarity
544. insight into interesting family dynamics
545. a plan
546. not being the plan maker
547. praying friends
548. weekend unlimited cell phone minutes
549. sermons and lessons that were not planned to compliment each other
550. kindergartners demonstrating their army crawl
551. encouragement
552. homemade tacos
553. a much less eventful Tuesday
554. a physician who text messages
555. laughter
556. productive meetings
557. The Friendly Toast on Man vs Food Nation
558. friends with cable tv
559. conversations about Germany in 1935 and american politics
560. explaining milk in a bag
561. Jon Acuff's blog
562. my giant panda bear mug from the San Diego zoo, it makes me smile

Thankful Thursdays 7/14/2011

517. Road trips
518. homemade pizza
519. Doozie's

520. having a sense of peace in a town that has a lot of tumultuous memories
521. amazing stars at night
522. peaceful evenings by the fire
523. AMAZING coffee
524. bonding with coworkers

525. crystal clear lake water

526. a day floating
527. unbelievable cajun food in the most unexpected place
528. snake

529. trumpets
530. laughter
531. weddings

532. old friends
533. good hugs
534. dancing
535. grace
536. hard but necessary conversations
537. heart and liver transplants
538. phones that text photos
539. God's answers to prayer
540. hope
541. unforgettable sunsets

Fine, I'll keep it then

I tried to give blood yesterday. I've always wanted to give blood, but in the past had never been able to because I had spent time in a area of the world that had malaria, I had never gone 3 years without being in a place considered high risk for it.

So yesterday, when I got an email stating that blood was desperately needed at the local hospital, and especially A+, I looked at the calendar and realized it had been 3 years since I got back from Colombia. I called and made an appointment.

I also called a friend to ask if she could drive me home, since I tend to get very dizzy and light headed when my blood is drawn, I've had really bad experiences in the past.

I was so excited, I couldn't wait to finally contribute in this way.

I got to the blood donation center, and they pricked my finger. They determined that I was most definitely NOT anemic.

Then they started on the long list of questions.

Have you taken antibiotics in the last week? NO
Have you had a vaccine in the last month? NO
Have you had sex with a prostitute or someone who takes money for sex? No
Have you had sex with a male who has had sex with males? No
Have you been to Africa? Yes
Did you have sex in Africa? Absolutely not
Have you ever been told that you are HIV positive? NO
Have you gotten a tattoo in the last year? I don't have tattoos
Have you taken drugs through a needle? No
Have you had sex with someone who takes drugs through a needle? again NO

It went on and on. It felt like one of those facebook questionnaires, only a really inappropriate and awkward one.

And then we got to the following question.

"Did spend 3 months or more cumulatively in England between the years 1980 and 1996?"
I had to think a bit, do a little math in my head, and then I said, "cumulatively? Yes, I spent approximately 4 days or more in England every year between 1982 and 2002."

Then she dropped it, the giant bomb, "then you can't give blood"
I'm sure the look of shock on my face was priceless.
"You mean ever in my life?"

"Yes you can never give blood, unless the FDA changes it's regulations."

"Is this because of mad cow disease?"

"yes"

"Wouldn't I have already gotten sick from it by now, had I been exposed to the virus that causes mad cow disease? I mean I know you don't make the rules, this is just astounding to me."

She said she was sorry, I told her it was okay, it wasn't really her fault.

Then I told my friend, who was waiting to drive me home that I didn't need her services because I can never give blood.

Then I called my mom as I drove home.

This is what blows my mind, I've traveled to China, back in the early 80's, back when it wasn't like it is now, I've been to Zimbabwe and South Africa, I've been to Colombia. Shoot at certain times of the year in the town I grew up in, this spray truck drives around with some chemical misting the air, to kill the mosquito larvae, which carry malaria and things of that nature. I've been on planes flying out of countries, where the regulation is that they have to spray the plane, while the passengers hold their breath, to kill any lurking bugs, before take off.

And none of that disqualifies me from giving blood.

Ironically, my dad is a regular blood donor, and they must have started asking this question after he could give blood in the states because his 3 year malaria window had passed, because he has recently given blood.

I called my brother, who told me that he gave blood a month ago, they asked him the same question, he answered it the same way, and then they asked if he had received medical care in the United Kingdom, he said no, and they said he could donate.

I checked the FDA website and apparently the nurse here is completely right, and they should stop accepting my brothers' and my dad's blood. My mom can never give blood either.

It's always amazing to me, the things that come up, that I never expected would ever be an issue because of my childhood growing up overseas and travelling the world.

I think it's pretty safe to say, that ever in my wildest dreams, I never expected that visiting London frequently, and Northern Ireland too, would disqualify me from ever donating blood. I wonder if they can take my organs when I die, or if they will be considered contaminated.

Thankful Thursdays 7/7/2011

506. a good movie
507. first official 5k of the summer
508. cookout with friends
509. The freedom we have in this country
510. good talk on the phone with mom
511. remembering those who have sacrificed to give us the freedoms we have
512. small town parades
513. matching photos of my brother and I
514. freshman
515. anticipation
516. catching up on sleep after a rather busy month

Look a likes?

When it comes to my brothers and I there are two camps.

One camp believes we look alike.

One camp believes we look nothing alike, not siblings, not cousins, nada.

One time toward the end of my senior year at UNH when my brother was a freshman, we were in the office of a woman named Jean. Jean is a staple of the athletic department, she knows everyone. She also has Twizzlers and pretzels and such for the taking. She was on the phone. I said to Ian, "doesn't she remind you of Auntie Brenda?"
He replied "Oh my gosh, yes totally."

When Jean got off the phone, my brother explained our revelation. Her response was overwhelming.

"OH MY GOSH YOU GUYS ARE COUSINS?"

Ummmmmmmmmmmm.
We looked at each other perplexed and Ian responded "um, no Jean, she is my sister."

"YOUR SISTER? HE IS YOUR BROTHER? I THOUGHT YOU GUYS WERE DATING AND I THOUGHT IT WAS A LITTLE INAPPROPRIATE"

It was awkward.
Jean went out into the hallway and started ushering people into her office.
"DID YOU KNOW THEY WERE BROTHER AND SISTER?"

Another time that same year my brother was down in the athletic training room waiting for me to give him a ride, I was doing some treatments on some football players.

Ian got a little antsy and decided to put me in a headlock. I couldn't get free and finally pronounced, "let go of me now or I am telling mom."

Much laughter erupted from the football players.

A few moments later I was ushered into one of the offices, a newly hired full-time staff member started scolding me. "Cate it is inappropriate to flirt with the athletes."

I was confused. "The football players you mean? I wasn't flirting with them."

"No that tall swimmer" was her reply

Ummmmmmm awkward AGAIN

"You know he is my younger brother right?" was all I could think to say.

I distinctly remember another staff member who was sitting in the office laughing so hard he couldn't breath as he tried to say "that's her little brother."

I mean really, how do you respond to that?

Yet another time our parents had taken us out to eat. The waitress came at the end of the meal and said "How would you like the bill? Two checks?"

My dad finds it offensive when other people try to pay.

I responded "Our mom and dad will be paying." I wanted to say "Um gross, this is my brother, not my boyfriend."

I could tell you about so many instances like that.

So when people tell me that we look I like, I think "Really? then why does this happen so frequently?"

As I have gotten older I have come to the conclusion that it's not that we look alike, it's that we have similar mannerisms. The people that say we look alike are generally people who know both of us well, and have picked up on tendencies that we both have.

This summer two photos were taken that illustrate my point.

Here is the first one.

That was taken a few weekends ago when I was in the Northeast for my college roommate's wedding and stopped by to have lunch with Nana

Here is the second

That was taken this past weekend when Ian had lunch at our Auntie's on a quick trip out to the Northeast for his college roommate's wedding.

When I saw the picture of my brother, I thought it ironic that we had taken such similar photos with our grandmother.

What do you think, do we really have the same facial structure? Or do we just pose the same way for photos?

The Coupon Fairy

Several years ago I completely stopped shopping at Walmart. It wasn't some strong conviction about keeping things local, it was just that their customer service was TERRIBLE and when they charged my card TWICE for the same purchase, and then wouldn't refund it because they didn't know how.... It's a long story but I decided I was done. The lady in customer service actually told me "you can't live here and not shop at Walmart" I said "watch me" and but for a once a year trip for sunscreen, I don't shop there.

Previously I had exclusively purchased groceries there. So I made the switch to Kroger, which was an excellent switch. I learned not to go on Tuesdays (senior discount day) and I came to greatly appreciate their courteous staff, excellent selection, and the fact that you can electronically load coupons on the discount card and it automatically is deducted when the card is swiped at checkout. I also appreciate the 10 cents off per gallon of gas after you spend $100 each month in the store.

One early morning this winter, I ran in for some razors. I had loaded a $3 coupon on my card for the brand I wanted, and was excited that the razor was on sale for $9, score. And then lurking on the top of the hook was a store coupon for $3. I looked around, did someone drop it? What was the deal? And as I looked at it closely realized the expiration date was that very day. Hmmm. After looking around, I picked up the coupon and headed to the checkout. I felt like I was stealing. And then I checked out and my razor, normally $14 was in fact only $3. I thought "this must be what it's like to hit the jackpot." I felt like skipping out of the store.

Then on random trips for groceries, I would notice the coupons in other places throughout the store. Always a day or two from the expiration date.

AND THAT'S WHEN I KNEW. KROGER HAS A COUPON FAIRY! SHHHHHH DON'T TELL ANYONE.

One day a worker actually commented to me, "oh yeah, we have a customer who leaves coupons they are not using for others to use"

And Kroger is okay with that, apparently, because I have started to notice them more and more. I don't know if it's just one fairy, or others have joined in the act.

I don't really care.

What I do know is that when I see this

on a product I was already planning on buying, it makes my heart happy.

Thank you coupon fairy, whoever you are.

More than one way to slice a mango

This spring I was invited to several Pampered Chef parties.
I have to be totally honest, I felt a little weird. I mean, I love to cook, and I do often, but I am single, so I am cooking for one person, which is a whole different ball game. Also, because I have not yet married, I have never had showers, or received wedding gifts, which basically means that my kitchen is a hodge podge of random cooking tools. I don't have matching pots and pans, I don't have nice knives. I have hand me down items from various family members, random items I've picked up along the way, and a few nice things given to me as Christmas gifts.

The nice items include a zyliss salad spinner, which I love, a cast iron skillet, dishes that match, and a very small pampered chef stone that was given to me as a gift because it was the perfect size for one person, and it is.

Oh and I have a roast rack for the times when we have Christmas at my house.

I'm not ready to throw down lots of money on things like pots and pans, and I didn't think I would want to buy small items, when the bigger items are higher on the list, but it's not right to go to a Pampered Chef party and not buy anything.

And then I saw the MANGO SLICER!

Anyone that knows me well knows I have a problem, a mango obsession, it's not healthy. Or maybe it really is. Either way, if you have ever tried to slice a mango, you know, it's quite a messy task, and often you end up leaving a lot of meat on the mango pit.

The mango slicer pretty much jumped off the page at me. I ended up also purchasing an avocado slicer thing to give as part of a wedding gift, but that also turned out to be an excellent tool for the mango, so alas, I will be keeping it for myself.

Because of the insane schedule I've had this spring/summer, it was several weeks before I was actually able to use mine. And when I did, several people noted that they were very interested in this amazing tool, so here is brief tutorial.

First here are all the tools necessary.

sorry for the picture quality, my phone didn't come through like it normally does.
here you see the mango, the slicer, the avocado tool, and a normal knife.

First you lop off one end of the mango, like so...

Then you stand the mango up on the flat end, and place the slicer appropriately based on the direction of the pit.

Next you press down on the slicer, like you would an apple slicer.

It cuts really well on a perfectly ripe mango.

Next you remove the pieces and use the avocado tool to scrape the meat out of the skin.

Worked like a champ. It didn't leave any deliciousness.

This was what was left.

I of course being the crazy person that I am, chose to eat the tiny bit of remaining mango off the pit, couldn't let it go to waste.

And here we have the pieces of delicious juicy juicy mango to take to work in the morning to eat during the week.

It was clearly a great success.

Thankful Thursdays 6/30/2011

494. A quite weekend at home
495. Good books that make me laugh a lot
496. my adult Bible fellowship class
497. watching 5-6 year old girls play basketball
498. the little girl who wore a skirt everyday to basketball camp
499. getting back in the pool for swims
500. Making it to 500
501. Mango slicer
502. my coworker's son who talks to himself while playing
503. peanut butter and fluff
504. cookout with friends
505. being able to find something applicable to my life in a sermon about parenting