Sweet Spot

I am a planner. I have always been a planner. It has always been important to know what is coming next, to have time to prepare, both physically and emotionally.

I make itineraries, planning unplanned time into the plan.

I can't remember not being this way.

When I moved here to West Kentucky, I came without a plan. It was strange and weird for me, but I knew it was where I was suppose to be.

Throughout the years, various and assorted people have asked "how long are you going to stay here?" or "when do you think you will move on from here?"

As hard as it has been for this planner heart, I have always said "I will know when it's time."

Being here hasn't always been easy. Actually being here has never been easy. It has been downright miserable at times.

But I knew it wasn't time to go yet.

Recently I have felt God's nudging to step out in faith. Not just in one area of my life, but in several.

I know that the plan is for change. I just don't know what exactly that change is. I also know quite clearly that I am not the plan maker.

One step was to start a small group with some amazing sisters, 4 of them, all recent college grads, trying to find their way as they walk with God, without a road map. We have started meeting once a week to study His Word, and pray for each other, and hold each other accountable.

Last night we were talking about how exactly you know when God is calling for major changes in your life. Like how do you know when it's time for a new job? Or to sell your house and move into an apartment? Sometimes it can be really intimidating and scary. Some people become paralyzed by it.

As we were talking I remembered an experience I had years ago at one of my favorite favorite places.

I had this camper in my cabin, and on her medical form it said she was a "sleep runner." Interesting I thought, and that night as I put the girls to bed, I made sure to latch the door shut.

I was awoken sometime in the middle of the night, and sure enough there was my camper, running down a trail in the dark.

And I was running after her, with a flashlight, trying not to stumble and fall. It's really dark in those woods at night, especially if it's not a full moon. The tree coverage is dense. You can hardly see your hand in front of your face. There are roots and rocks and bends in the trail all over the place. It's easy to trip and fall in broad daylight. It's really hard to not trip and fall in the middle of the night. The flashlight gave just enough light to see my next step, each next step. The trail 10 feet ahead was not in view.

As I was running I remembered Psalm 119:105, and the old song that quotes it.
"Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and light unto my path."

That is when it hit me, chasing after sleep runner.

It's a light to my feet, illuminating what is directly in front of me, keeping me from falling flat on my face.

It doesn't say "Thy Word is a road map to the rest of your life, complete with symbols and a key."

Lately there has been a lot of asking and telling about major changes on the horizon in my life, and I keep saying "I'm just putting one foot in front of the other, and trusting that He has a plan." This is not an easy thing for me to say, and it is not an easy thing for me to do. But it is good, and it is right, and I feel like I'm in my sweet spot.

You know, when you hit a baseball on the exact right spot of the bat, with the exact right timing, and even if you aren't swinging for the fences, the ball is sailing towards the fences, because everything fell into place, just as it was suppose to.

I'm not playing baseball, but I am walking forward, and I am trusting God, and I don't understand a lot of what is going on, and I couldn't tell you what things will look like a month from now, or a year from now. But I do know that I am headed in the right direction, as little logical sense as it makes.

Thankful Thursday 9/22/2011

694 a great time with friends I don't see often anymore
695 direction
696 reconnecting with an old friend
697 possibilities
698 a really fun football game
699 the old people dancing in the stands
700 celebrating a friend's upcoming marriage
701 watching people who are good at their job, excel at it
702 the athletes that always seem to be bringing me another great youtube video
703 remembering the important things about my job, and making them my priority
704 encouragement from friends
705 a new opportunity for Bible study
706 a group of young women who are excited about getting together
707 stumbleupon
708 talking to my Nana on the phone, finally after many failed attempts
709 the class I'm teaching this semester
710 being able to save all the files on my 16G jump/thumb/flash drive that stopped working

Some youtube videos

Because it's Monday, and Monday of all days is one that needs a few good laughs, here are my favorite youtube videos from last week.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a great appreciation for a good youtube video.

1. Anything Ben Crane



This of course is the original. Ben Crane was known as a very serious personality on the PGA tour before this was released. He now has several other videos. Checkout the one titled On Pre Round for giggles too.

2. The dancing prisoners.
My friend Sarah introduced me to these Filipino prisoners last Monday, I have since become addicted.



They do monthly performances which are open to the public. If I lived in the Philippines I would so go.

3. BBC talking animals



There are tons of them, they are all funny.

Fictive Families

The other day I was on the phone with Arwen, when she made an incredible insight on my life.

She has been doing a lot of training for her job lately and she came across the term "fictive family" also known as "fictive kin"

Fictive family or kin is a grouping of people who are not related to each other biologically or through marriage, but act as though they are.

For example, when Arwen and her husband have children, they will know me as Auntie Cate, the same term my niece and nephew use for me. It will not be till Arwen's kids are a little older that they will understand that I am not actually their aunt, but am rather a close friend of their parents.

Everywhere I have ever lived, until I moved to Kentucky, I have been in places where fictive family is incredibly common.

In the Middle East where I grew up, no one had their actual biological grandparents or aunts and uncles around, so other people, friends of my parents, fit into that role. It wasn't a conscious decision, it just kind of happened. I didn't spend holidays like Christmas or Easter with biological aunts, uncles, and cousins. I did however spend them with close friends of my parents.

In New England it is also very common to form fictive families.

Though my Aunt and Uncle lived just an hour from school, it was not uncommon for me to have several different options for any given holiday or long weekend if I wasn't going to their house.

My freshman year, I went home to northern NH with my friend Ty for spring break.
During that trip it was as if I was melded into her family. Later on, after Ty transferred to chiropractic school, I would sometimes call her when she was at her parent's house, her dad would answer the phone and we would talk for a good 15 minutes or more before Ty would demand the phone from him.

Then there is my camp family, the people I worked with in the White Mountains for 2 summers, and worked church retreats on weekends frequently in the winter with. They are part of my family too, as protective of me as my own brothers, they are the sisters I never had.

When I go to New England in the summer to visit, I visit my family, and I visit my friends, and I also visit my friends' families, because the reality is that in some ways, they are just as much my family, as my real family.

This fictive family is what I have really been missing here. The Easter celebrations with a mesh of people who don't look like they belong together, but do. The protective fathers and brothers, who protect you, as they protect their own daughters and sisters. I miss the older brothers who take you snowmobiling and go slower than they normally would because they know you are on the back and don't want to freak you out. I miss the sisters and moms, who laugh as they introduce you to the art of milking cows, and explain that it's okay to drink it without pasteurization. I miss the cousins who help you break into a locked room through a window to save the wedding dress, in pajamas, all while laughing so hard you are crying.

And just as these people have been fictive family to me, my family has been fictive family to others, inviting bachelors over to be a part of family dinners, making sure the grandparents with no kids or grandchildren around joined us for holidays. My mom is a notorious source of advice. I can't tell you how many times people have said "Cate I'm buying a new sewing machine, can I have your mom's number to talk to her?" or "Cate can I talk to your mom about how she handled... when you guys were kids?"

Arwen often says "I'll come pick you up at Brenda's, I want to see her anyway." My Aunt will often inquire about Arwen. They have become fictive family.

In Kentucky the biological family is an incredibly strong force, and that is not a bad thing, but it is much less common for people to invite outsiders into that unit.

I am thankful for this insight, a name to something I have been trying to explain for some time.

The Fly Saga Continues

Back in 2009 I wrote about the Dinosaurus fly we had. It was parading around my office until my coworker decided to put up fly paper.

Well the saga has continued. This summer we had "fly mansions" installed in the offices. All told about 20 some odd flies lost their lives in the sticky glue.

This week, the fly saga reached a level few if any have ever attained, with the arrival of the small bird.

That picture doesn't really do it justice.

Then it started flying around, it wasn't very fast, thankfully. The room was filled with one of our womens teams, they quickly cleared out into the hallway.

Thankfully one of our staff members was able to kill the fly.

We took this picture.

Yes that is a quarter.

Then we held a memorial service, because I mean seriously, a dead fly that big needs to be acknowledged.

And so the saga continues...

Thankful Thursday

675 the section of Bible I happen to be reading lining up with the circumstances of my life

676 reading a book that gave clarity to me
677 supportive family
678 an amazing dinner
679 a good nap
680 collective worship at church
681 communion

682 Burger King, the only business in my small town that remembered to lower their flag for the 10 year anniversary of 9/11

683 The reminder that we have been given SO much as American citizens
684 good communication
685 my small but awesome fictive family here (more on that later)
686 awesome lyrics in my head
687 hilarious videos


688 giving gifts
689 the first non-hectic day since students got back to campus
690 rain and the cooler weather it brought
691 time to accomplish things around my house
692 a plan to handle the things I can while I wait on His plans for my life
693 remembering a friend who passed away several years ago today

Anne Lamott- Traveling Mercies

The other day I made a quick pit stop on my very rushed lunch break. I ran into the library to grab a book to read. I didn't have much time, so when Anne Lamott's Traveling Mercies caught my eye, I grabbed it. I left it in my car.

The next day, my plans for the day were completely rearranged when a student athlete needed immediate medical attention.

I spent most of the day sitting in the ER, and on our way in, I grabbed the book to take with me.

As I was reading, I came across the following section.

"Pammy and I basked in Lee's love like lizards on sunny rocks. Lee lay beside me in bed when I couldn't sleep and whispered the Twenty-third Psalm to me: "'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want' - I am not wanting for anything, Annie. Let's find a green pasture inside us to rest in. Let's find the still waters within." She'd lay beside me quietly for a while as we listened to the tide of the lagoon lap against the dock. Then she'd go on: "'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,' Annie, not 'Yea, as I end up living forever in the valley…'" And she prayed for the Good Shepherd to gather my thoughts like sheep. I did not quite believe in the power of her Mother-Father God, because my frightened lamby thoughts seemed to be stampeding toward a wall, piling up on each other's backs, bleating plaintively while their wild eyes darted around frantically. But I believed in Lee, and I felt her arms around me… and Lee would whisper me to sleep"

While I don't necessarily completely agree with all of Lamott's theology, the book is the story of her journey towards Christianity, and this section is recalling an experience she had as a child spending the night at a friend's whose' family was Christian Science.

The words really resonated in my life. It is easy, while in a set of circumstances to forget that those circumstances are temporary, and that we are not alone.

The 23rd Psalm goes on to say, "even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me."

It's a part of scripture I know well. I memorized it for $1 when I was in 4th grade, the year when our lives were in total upheaval. It was the year Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait, the year we spent half living in my grandparents' house, half living in our own. It was the year that we went to public school in America and didn't come home for lunch. The year my dad was at home working, and my mom was with us in safety. It was the year we heard on the radio that a scud missile had landed on a warehouse, just behind our favorite pizza place and Baskin Robins, killing lots of troops.

And even then He was with us, and even now as I walk through this life, wondering where He is leading, He is with me.

Thankful Thursday

660 clarity
661 a great conversation
662 God using me
663 a friend lending me her sewing machine
664 getting a lot of sewing projects done
665 a sense of accomplishment
666 a weekend off
667 hanging out with coworkers
668 watching football
669 Chip Kelly makes me laugh
670 delicious morning coffee
671 the lady at cracker barrel clipping the nails, wow.
672 the racer shuffle video
673 getting back into a normal running schedule
674 a long weekend entirely off from work

The Bicycle Horn

Yesterday I went to visit a friend who had just recently gone through major surgery. She is in a lot of pain, and having to be cared for by others constantly.

For this self sufficient, independent, confident single woman, this has been difficult, and will continue to be difficult for a few more weeks.

Of course this brought us to the topic of community, and how it's at times like this that you realize who your true friends are, who your true community is. Who are the people who will be there for you when you call frantically to tell that you have less than a week to prepare for major surgery? Who are the people who will have those hard conversations with you? You know, like what you would want if something went wrong in surgery? Would you want your organs donated?

She had the conversation with her friend. Then she went into surgery, knowing it was not good, and then it was worse than she thought it was going to be.

Her first night home from the hospital, she needed help, her friend (and her friend's husband) were asleep in another room and couldn't hear her. The next day they went out and bought her one of those really loud bicycle horns, and put it by her bed, they didn't want her to have to be in that situation again.

Everyone who has come by to visit her has signed the horn, a physical representation of her community, coming together in her time of need, to answer her calls for help.

I think this is a great representation of how the body of Christ should work.

This past Sunday, my pastor preached about community. He talked about the Romanian orphanages during communism, how there were basically warehouses of kids with only their basic physiological needs met, food and water. They had no interactions with people, and they had failure to thrive.

He talked about how we as Christians need interaction with people, that we need to be connected to people. That spiritually we will fail to thrive if we don't.

There are times when I've pondered this exact set of circumstances my friend finds herself in. Living far from family, I have wondered who would come to be with me at the hospital, were I in a similar situation. I was once in a small group, thinking that I had connected, and then after a series of events realized that they wouldn't be there for me. I had given and given and given, but when some small but significant needs in my life arouse, I blew my bicycle horn. The problem was that no one was listening, they heard, they just didn't acknowledge. It's like they heard the horn in the middle of my night, and turned over and went back to sleep. Because they ignored the call, they didn't have to address the clearly communicated need.

I am fully aware that ultimately no person or group of people can meet all the needs in my life. And there are some needs that can only be fulfilled by our Lord. But Jesus calls us to be His hands and His feet to a dying world, we have to start by being His hands and feet to those around us.

Sometimes it's a lot easier to worry about the dying orphans in some far off land and throw money at them than to roll up our sleeves and get our hands and feet dirty with and for the people who are physically present in our lives.

Being in that small group was a very difficult time in my life, and I hung on to those facades of relationship longer than I should have, because I really wanted to be part of that community, and because I didn't really have any other community here. Eventually I chose to move on, they simply didn't have space for me. They were very quick to ask me to give physically and emotionally on a regular basis, but completely unwilling to allow me to receive when I was in need.

I have since found healthy community elsewhere, but I remember that time and think about it sometimes because I don't want to go through it again, and I don't want others to go through it, especially if there is a way I can prevent it.

I've seen Christians fail to thrive, because they lacked community, or were in destructive community.

Community, healthy community at least, takes time to develop, it doesn't happen overnight. It also takes effort, spending time with people, helping them through hard circumstances, being vulnerable yourself. Being in community is not always nice and clean and pretty. We are human, it's just part of the deal.

For me, it's much easier to hear other people blowing their bicycle horn and respond than it is for me to pick up the horn and blow it myself. Being vulnerable and expressing need is not something that comes easy to me. Having been through that experience has made it harder for me to be vulnerable. I have had to force myself to connect with people. It has at times left me wondering "is this going to turn out like it did last time?"

The more I have thought about this over the week, the more I have realized, that each of us has to be willing to both blow our bicycle horn when we are in need, and get out of bed when someone else is blowing theirs and respond to the need. That is the only way true community can be established. And each time we respond to the needs of others, we sign their horn, a stamp on their life that God is still faithful, that He provides through His people.

Thankful Thursday 9/1/2011

643 high school football games
644 time catching up with good friends
645 last minute Friday night plans
646 going to bed without setting an alarm
647 an awesome dentist who always answers the phone
648 being able to fill in last minute to serve at church
649 winging it with 1st grade Sunday school and then realizing that they got it
650 helpers
651 encouragement from friends
652 constructive conversations

653 that all of my friends and family made it through hurricane Irene with little or no damage to their property

654 a friend's dad going home after 360 days in the hospital
655 possibilities
656 a phenomenal physician
657 relief from an intense ear infection
658 that a friend made it through difficult surgery
659 reminder of what community should look like and be

The Jersey Shore isn't real

Recently Abercrombie told the members of the show Jersey Shore that they would pay them a significant sum of money to stop wearing Abercrombie apparel.

What the people at Abercrombie know is that Jersey Shore isn't really how people in America typically behave and that it was giving a bad image to their products.

When most Americans watch shows like the Jersey Shore, or The Office, or Seinfeld, or Sex in the City, or Friends, or Baywatch, they might enjoy the show, but they fully realize that for the most part it is fiction. There may some elements of truth in the show, but life for most Americans isn't how it is on the show.

Ironically though, we export those shows to countries around the world, where people don't realize that the show isn't an accurate portrayal of life in America. Television and movies are one of the biggest exports out of this country.

What this means is that there maybe people in say China, who have never ever interacted with an American, but they've seen countless episodes of Jersey Shore, and therefore think that it is an accurate portrayal of the average American.

Ooops.

This is the exact reason that I find the movie Borat, though generally inappropriate, completely HILARIOUS. I grew up listening to third world nationals imitating the phrases they heard on whatever pirated version of the latest blockbuster they had just watched.

Think of the confusion when they are all of a sudden interacting with an American tourist, and their vocabulary consists of the expert phrases they learned in school like "do you have any turnips?" and of course the cool phrases they learned from....

Which brings me to my experience over the last several days.

I interact with international students on a regular basis. It's something I really enjoy.

So over the past week I have been taking care of a student who is a freshman, fresh off the plane, who has pretty decent English. And he doesn't realize the F bomb and S bomb aren't really appropriate in places like, say the waiting area at a large clinic.

For all that I need to sit him down and gently say "hey in America, those words aren't really very appropriate in this setting" I don't want to embarrass him, which he would be, he is trying hard to be cool. (also a word he uses a lot) And quite frankly, I think it's not really his fault, it's our fault, as a society, for projecting that image and not giving an accurate portrayal of life in this country. But overtime, he will be embarrassed when he accidentally seriously offends someone, without intending to. So we will have the conversation, but I won't tell him that it's also not cool to say the double bye because it's hilarious, and one of my favorite things about new international students. It cracks me up, every time, when they end the conversation by saying "okay Cate, bye bye"

Thankful Thursdays 8/25/2011

625 Edamame in the basket
626 volleyball with coworkers
627 green tea ice cream success
628 free ice
629 relaxing around a fire
630 hanging out with coworkers outside of work
631 truth spoken
632 conviction
633 a church that gives freedom to people to use their gifts...whatever that gift is
634 teaching someone to swallow pills
635 the words "thank you" spoken out loud
636 hearing Maya Angelou
637 facebook that allows me to stay connected with friends all over the world
638 running into former athletes

639 "He said bring me some water, no here here" "Cate your Portuguese is so good" "yup I actually know those words"

640 delicious steak
641 a much needed hug
642 courage to say what needs to be said

Truth Be Told

This past Sunday in my adult Bible fellowship class, AKA Sunday school, we continued our study of the book of James. We have been going through the book a couple verses at a time and will continue to work our way through the book for a while. This past Sunday we were looking at James 1:19-22, a section where James uses a modified version of the sandwich approach.

The sandwich approach is a coaching technique in which the coach praises the player, gives constructive criticism, and then praises the player again. The idea of the sandwich approach is that the player will not hear the criticism unless he or she first knows that the coach cares about the player.

In James 1:19, he calls his audience "my beloved brothers," he is telling them that he loves them. And then, because he loves them, he goes on to tell them some hard truths. He tells them to be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to anger. He also tells them to put away all filthiness and rampant wickedness.

I don't know about you, but if James, the brother of Jesus was telling me those things, I probably would be squirming in my seat, a little uncomfortable. Even though I wouldn't necessarily be stoked about what was being said, I would know that James loved me as a sister, he says that first, before he says anything else.

As I got to thinking about this passage, I started thinking about who I have in my life that loves me enough to tell me the truth. Who cares enough to tell me the things that they know will make me squirm, but that they know I need to hear?

That thought of course led to the wonder, are the friends that are unwilling to tell me hard truths, unwilling to do anything but agree with me all the time, unwilling to risk rejection or the friendship because I might not like what they have to say really that good of friends?

Proverbs 27:17 says "Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another."

I don't know that we as Christians can sharpen each other, propel each other on to deeper relationships with the Lord if we don't sometimes in love tell each other the truth.

I am thankful for the people in my life who are willing to tell me the things I don't want to hear, after they remind me that they love me, because it's only in the telling and changing that both they and I can grow more like Christ.

The 1988 Olympics

Do you remember the 1988 Olympics? In Seouls, Korea?

I sure do.

I remember Ben Johnson from Canada winning the 100 yard dash in blazing speed, beating Carl Lewis, only to be disqualified later when he tested positive for using performance enhancing drugs.


I remember Greg Louganis hitting his head on the diving board, and still wining gold.


I remember Byun Jong-Il losing his bout in boxing and then refusing to leave the ring as he sat for hours in protest. Sorry there were no youtube videos, most people probably don't remember it as a highlight.

I remember watching Janet Evans, with her unconventional straight armed stroke style winning 3 Olympic Golds, and setting some world records also.


I remember watching Matt Biondi winning 5 Gold medals in the pool, it would have been 6 had he not glided to the wall at the end of the 100 meter fly and was beaten by Anthony Nesty of Suriname, a guy from a country no one had ever heard of.


I remember watching Florence Griffith Joyner, and Jackie Joyner Kersee, and the horseback riding events.

I remember watching because in our family we watched it over and over and over again.

Growing up in the Middle East, we didn't really have television. We never watched Saturday morning cartoons. We had television pretty much only in the afternoon and evening, and it was interrupted for prayer time.

Needless to say we didn't watch television much, we really just watched tapes.

Sometime shortly after the summer of 1988, our family was given one of the best gifts we were ever given by my aunt and uncle. They had taped the entire television coverage of the 1988 Olympics. For our athletics loving, soccer playing, competitive swimming family, it was an awesome gift.

That was the first and only Olympics I had the opportunity to watch until I was a freshman in college and watched the 2000 Olympics in Sydney.

When it was too hot to play outside, or we were bored, we could always agree to watch the games in Seoul, Korea.

Sometimes we watched it in chronological order, sometimes we just picked out the best tapes and watched those.

When I was in high school and college and was home for the break, and was jet lagged and awake in the middle of the night, my brothers and I would pop in the tapes of the 1988 Olympics.

With the frequency that we watched those tapes (there were about 16-20 of them?) it's amazing that they lasted.

Ironically, we weren't the only family in our small town that had a set of tapes of the 1988 Olympics.

The summer after my parents moved back to the United States, my younger brother and I were sitting at our parents' new home in Michigan. I suggested that we pop in a tape of the 1988 Olympics. My brother liked the idea, and as he got up to choose a tape, my mom tried to hide her face.

"Mom where are they?" he asked.

At that point my parents were still unpacking boxes.

"We didn't bring them back." she admitted.

It was a logical decision by my parents who had packed up while my brothers and I were away at school.

But it was sad, and every time I visit my parents' home, I feel like something is missing.

Don't buy this book

I spent a weekend with my cousin in her family recently. It was great to actually see her in person, we normally only interact via Facebook due to the fact that she doesn't live in America. It was also great to spend time with her without the stress of a large extended family function. One of the many things we talked about was how married people with families and single people interact. I greatly appreciate her insight, Godly advice, and perspective. One thing she said that really was a huge encouragement to me was the following statement, "I fully recognize that I was never truly single, I graduated from college and got married, I never had to pay bills on my own, do life on my own, it drives me nuts when other married women can't understand that." I couldn't agree more, I can't tell you how many times I've heard someone say "I loved being single, I miss those days" and I want to respond "No you miss college, which is different from being 26 or 28 or 30 and single"
Later in the weekend we went to a fun restaurant with a gift shop, she called me over to take a picture of something and said "you should write a blog post 'how married people can be good friends to their single friends."
So in her honor, here it is:

1. Don't assume that just because they don't have kids, including them in activities that involve families isn't important.

2. Hug them occasionally

3. Give them the oppertunity to minister to your children in ways they are gifted. That may mean they teach your kids to play a musical instrument, or to swim, or take them for a fun activity or to lunch.

4. Remind yourself that God might not be calling them to babysit all of your children any time you need a sitter and for free, that might not be how God is calling them to minister to your children. (or you) There are few things that are worse at Valentine's Day than a phone call or email saying "hey you're single, can you babysit our kids so my husband and I can go on a date?" from some random person that is really only an acquaintance. Also remind yourself that constantly asking them to babysit actually excludes them from community sometimes, which single people desperately need.

5. Remember their birthdays, they don't have a spouse reminding your group of friends that it's their birthday like you do.

6. Before making recommendations on ways they should go about meeting that special someone, take time to talk to them about their dating philosophy, it will give you the opportunity to know them a little better, know their heart a little better, and avoid awkward suggestions like using various and assorted internet dating sites. In today's culture there are a million different schools of thought on dating, it's stressful enough as it is. Your well meaning comment might be offensive, it would be like them giving you misguided or unappreciated parenting advice.

7. Figure out ways to include them during holiday celebrations, holidays are one of the loneliest times for single people, especially if they don't live near family. There is nothing worse than sitting at home by yourself on Easter (or Thanksgiving or New Years or 4th of July), and then having to hear before and after about everyone else's fabulous plans. Some of the most meaningful holiday celebrations in my life have been times that I have spent with other families because I was far away from my own

8. Do NOT BUY THEM THIS BOOK

I don't know about you, but steps 1-100 is a lot of steps, it's a little overwhelming to think about.

Here is the back

Just in case you are not sure.

Thankful Thursdays 8/18/11

610 long drive with time to think
611 great time spent with family
612 encouragement
613 time spent in the Word in the morning
614 watching kids experience things for the first time
615 shared experiences
616 laughing at hilarious childhood stories
617 practical jokes
618 time to catch up with people on the phone
619 the 1988 olympics (more on that later)
620 timely text messages from friends
621 being done with big once a year projects at work
622 a really good book (I promise by Nancy G Brinker if you are wondering)
623 consistency with quiet times
624 a good long hard swim

It's not my story.

A couple days ago I had a really long, really frustrating day. I was proud of myself for not reacting to a few people (read not punching them in the face), but I was mad at myself for letting those people affect my attitude.

I had a 5 minute venting session on the phone with Arwen.

Then later in the evening she texted me, Romans 8:28.

I, being good at knowing scripture, but not where scripture is located, had to look it up.

Romans 8:28
And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

Oh right, in the midst of all the chaos of my day, I had forgotten, this is part of the story HE is writing with my life. It's not my life, it's not my story, I gave it all away a long time ago. Try as I might to take it back sometimes, I can't.

And HE is working all things together for good, because even though I don't always act like it, even though there are days where I do say things I shouldn't, and days when I allow others to affect my attitude, ultimately, I am still HIS child.

I made a commitment, to follow Him, and I have to choose to follow Him every morning when I step out of my bed and into my day.

And each step along the way is part of the story He is writing about the redemption of my life, and the redemption of mankind.

So while it would be nice if He would wave His hands back and forth and magically change some of the frustrating to me circumstances I occasionally find myself in, He isn't really interested in magic tricks. He is more interested in the miracle of a changed and changing heart.

After all, He is the author and perfecter of my faith.

How to use a vending machine

This past weekend I drove to Missouri to spend time with my cousin and her family. They live overseas and I was excited to spend some time with them while they are here. I was especially excited to get to know her kids a little, though I grew up in a different country than the one they are growing up in, there are a lot of shared experiences.

Recently I blogged about my experience trying to give blood, it was so surprising to me, I or my parents never expected I would never be able to give blood to be a consequence of our living in a foreign country. It's the little things, that normally catch you of guard when you are a third culture kid.

While I was staying with my cousin, we went to a famous restaurant called Lambert's, it's known for it's delicious and over-sized food, and the fact that they throw bread. It's also known for really long waits on Saturday's, or anytime really. I was excited to see the kids reactions to the flying food.

My cousin's husband and mother in law went ahead of us to reserve a table and wait, and we showed up with the three kids about 15 minutes before our name was called. While we were waiting, the 5 year-old pointed to a coke machine and said "what is that?"

Like I said, it's the little things that catch you off guard.

It made me laugh as I thought about all the times as a kid, when I or my brothers would ask about something random while visiting the states.

What followed was 5 minute description of the methods and reasons one would insert money into the machine, choose a beverage, and wait for it to come out of the hole at the bottom, chilled.

It was bizarre for me to watch as an adult, and to see the reactions of the strangers standing around. It was clear to me that they were both very interested in our conversation, and perplexed as to why this kid didn't know about vending machines.

And then for about the next 10 minutes the boys put coins in the machine and pushed the coin return button, over and over.

I'm glad I got to be a part of that conversation, and I am excited about being part of their lives as they navigate life straddling 2 cultures, and creating their own. I am looking forward to more conversations like that in the future. I realized this weekend that because of my childhood, God has gifted me in special ways to be able to encourage them and minister to them, and I am grateful.

Thankful Thursday 8/11/11

595 seeing an idea in my head and making it happen
596 being pretty much done with Christmas shopping
597 the ability to get in my truck and drive where i want
598 good dinner with friends
599 last minute plans on a lonely Saturday night
600 time spent with a sister in Christ catching up
601 accountability
602 true friends who will tell me the things I don't want to hear but need to be told
603 volleyball with coworkers
604 people who get things done quickly
605 interacting with student athletes
606 great encouragement
607 powerful time in God's Word
608 a cupcake at work
609 laughter

How to order a cannoli at Mike's

Earlier today, a friend asked on facebook for suggestions on an upcoming trip to Boston and Maine. Of course those are two places I love.
I have a lot of fond memories in both places as a kid.

We spent a lot of time at my grandparents' cottage in Maine.

And we were always flying into Boston. We would go to the children's museum, or to the commons, or to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum when we were older. We almost always went to Filene's basement, for the push and shove shopping experience, and the deals.

For a long time my aunt worked in Boston, in Kendall Square. In high school I would come up from Philly for breaks, hop on the T to Kendall Square, and ride home with her. Sometimes if I got there early in the day, I would drop my bags at The Office (that was the name of her business) and then explore the city for a while heading over to Harvard, or to Filene's basement, till it was close to time to go home for her.

In college my friends and I often took random trips into the city for concerts, sporting events, shopping, whatever.

Somewhere along the way I was introduced to the North End.

And then somehow it became an annual tradition for Cate and Arwen to spend a day in Boston, eat at a particular restaurant, and then get cannoli's at Mike's.

I submit that there is no more decadent dessert in the world than a cannoli from Mike's.

One common thing that is said about New Englanders, especially by people here in the south, is that they are rude. I don't think they are rude, I just think that they are direct, and that visitors don't know the rules, so they struggle.

Take Mike's for example, there is actually a sign in the bakery, it says "Do Not Form Lines." Mike's is almost always busy, especially on weekends and in the summer. It's a rarity for it not to be jam packed. And if you stand there nicely waiting for your turn, you will continue standing there. You might never get a turn.

The reality is that if you are going to get a cannoli at Mike's, which I think it would be a travesty to not do, you have to elbow your way to the front. I mean it's not that you should be shoving people out of the way, you just have to know what you want, and slither your way to the front. And if you "cut" people, then you "cut" them. But there is no line, so technically you aren't cutting anyone. Then when the lady behind the counter says "NEXT" you step up, even if the person next to you has been waiting longer than you. It's just how it works. And you tell the woman what you want. She won't be patient with you if you hem and haw. Don't step up to order if you haven't figured out what you want, let someone else go and figure it out. Then the next time one of the ladies yells out, you step up and say "I want 3 cannoli's." I prefer the regular ricotta filled, dipped in chocolate, or with the chocolate chips, or the peanut butter. You can also just point at what you want and say "2 of those and 1 of those." It's best if you are in a large party to leave most of them outside and send 1 or 2 to order for the whole group.

Then the lady will place them in the box, and wrap the blue and white string that is hanging from the ceiling, and you will wonder how on earth she did that, and she will take your money, and come back with your change.

Then you will slither your way back out and find another place to eat them, preferably on the grassy area with the fountains.

or at the warf.

Ruth

I have read the book of Ruth so many times. I've read about how she left with her mother in law Naomi, how they travelled to a strange land after Ruth's husband, father in law, and brother in law had all died. I've read about how she left all of her family behind, how her sister in law turned back to go be with her own family. I've read about how Ruth went out to gather wheat to feed her mother in law and herself.

If you don't know the story well, basically what happens is that Ruth ends up in the field of a close relative of her deceased husband. She eventually asks Boaz, the close relative, to be her kinsman redeemer, a tradition at the time which required the closest male relative available to marry the widow and give her a child, which would actually be considered the child of the deceased husband.

This week when I read the story again, it hit me in a new way. I found myself picking up on things I had never noticed before.

I also have come across several articles in the last few weeks with very similar themes to those I have been seeing for the first time in the book of Ruth.

I have had an ongoing conversation with 2 good friends lately about how what we watch and read influences what we think about romantic relationships. The first article that addressed this topic was this article. Is it really helpful to watch and read stories about women being swept off their feet by heros with bulging biceps and living happily ever after? Is that really how it generally happens in real life? Is the hero always going to be perfect in every way? Is it all just chance? Is it really realistic to think that once he waltzes into my life, and I into his, that we will all of a sudden become perfect for each other? Or do those character traits develop over time from life experiences, self-control, good mentors? And the biggest question I and many of my single friends ask, how do I live fully here and now in this life that God has ordained for me as a single woman, when culture, both popular and Christian, constantly tells me that I am somehow lacking, somehow incomplete because I don't have a man and am not riding of into the sunset happily ever after? Or as some of my friends say, poking fun at the wealth of Christian romance novels they have read (yes it's true those do exist) where is the man that they will ride of in a wagon heading west with?

One of the things that really jumped out at me about Ruth this week was the way she was described by others, specifically her mother in law and also her eventual husband Boaz.

In Ruth 3:11 after Ruth has done what her mother in law told her to do and gone and laid on the threshing floor with Boaz, he says this "And now, my daughter, do not fear. I will do for you all that you ask, for all my fellow townsmen know that you are a worthy woman."
In several commentaries and study guides this week I learned that that actual Hebrew word used here is Hah-yil, which means strength. This was the same term used to describe heros of the Bible, mighty men of valor. I think it also interesting to note that in several commentaries on this section of Ruth, she is compared to or described as the Proverbs 31 woman.

Last night I read this article by Donald Miller about how to prepare to be a good wife in today's culture. It is interesting to note that one of the things that Boaz notes about Ruth's character is that she showed self-control, not running of with whatever man showed interest in her. He says it like this.

Ruth 3:10 And he said, "May you be blessed by the LORD, my daughter. You have made this last kindness greater than the first in that you have not gone after young men, whether poor or rich.

Donald Miller basically says don't hook up with random guys, and weed out the losers. I think essentially Boaz and Mr. Miller are saying the same thing.

Boaz was no slouch either in the character department. After the first day that Ruth gleaned wheat in Boaz's field, her mother in law had this to say about him:

And Naomi said to her daughter-in-law, "May he be blessed by the LORD, whose kindness has not forsaken the living or the dead!" Ruth 2:20

Then again after Ruth had returned from the threshing floor, her mother in law Naomi had kind things to say about Boaz. In Ruth 3:18 she says this:

She replied, "Wait, my daughter, until you learn how the matter turns out, for the man will not rest but will settle the matter today."

I had never picked up on the great character of Boaz before. He was a man who showed great kindness, and also a man whose word could be trusted.

As I read through the story this week, I was also struck by the ways Boaz repeatedly provided for Ruth and protected her, giving her ample food and telling her to stay with the women in his household where she would be safe.

I can't think of character traits that I would want more in my future husband than kindness, trustworthiness, and the ability to provide for and protect me.

I have been thinking about the great hopelessness that Ruth must have felt based on the circumstances she found herself in, and the joy it must have been to her when Boaz became her husband. And as I thought about all of that, I was filled with great hope, and reminded to ignore the messages that are fed to me constantly about relationships, and character. As one author I read recently described it, I need to ignore the romantic pornography.

Thankful Thursday 8/4/2011

582 Being organized going into my first ever yardsale
583 my amazing friend Jen who woke up at 5 am to help me set-up
584 selling tons of stuff
585 a coworker with a pool on a ridiculously hot July day
586 the mini blizzard at Dairy Queen, it's genius
587 celebrating good friends who are moving on to a new adventure
588 the reminder that this world is not our home, we were made for something bigger
589 an awesome Sunday school lesson
590 coworkers who are easy to work with
591 clear insight from the book of Ruth this week during quiet times
592 hilarious inside jokes that still have me laughing 8+ years latter
593 good friends that remain good friends, no matter how far the distance
594 my amazing crock pot

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