...ripples...

Sometimes, loving on another person only requires a moment of your time...

Wellspring Living is an Atlanta based organization whose mission is to confront the issue of childhood sexual abuse and exploitation through awareness, training, and treatment programs for women and girls. They have been entered in an IKEA contest to revamp their Life Skills and Therapy offices. To win, they need to have the most votes and voting ends tomorrow, March 31.

IKEA has made this process quite easy.

Click this link. Enter your email address. Type in the numbers. Submit. Choose store projects for Atlanta, GA. Choose Wellspring Living. Submit.

See how simple?

This idea of sexual abuse and trafficking has been weighing on my heart for some time. I want to see these young women rescued from this slavery and restored to society. I want to see their captors brought to justice.

It is likely that we will never meet these girls, we will never know the impact that this may have on their lives, but we will have made some ripples, and that may make all the difference.

Won't you please take a moment and vote for them?

To find out more about Wellspring Living, click here.

...fish fry Friday...

Not being Catholic, I've never experienced a lenten fish fry. Excited to expose ourselves to something new, we glanced through a website listing area fish fries and agreed on Holy Infant Catholic Church as it was closest to our neighborhood.

We arrived at 4:45pm, a fairly early time with less people (or so we thought) and moved into the line. It was much busier than we expected, though a man also waiting in line said that coming at 6pm would have been much worse. As I've been reverting back into my fearful self, the one that doesn't feel confident in anything, I just wanted to choose their take out option, and eat dinner in front of the TV. But I knew that wouldn't make for a great blog post, so, before I could change my mind, I determined we should stay.

We got our dinners (salmon, cod, grouper with the options of fried or baked and so many sides – definitely worth the cost) and then the most gruesome part of any cafeteria experience began. You all know what I'm talking about: the struggle to find a place to sit. It was middle school all over again.

Always thinking ahead, I was scoping out the tables as we stood in line. I chose two that I thought were viable and, once we had our dinners, I led Andy through the maze and to the first table.

Table 1. “Sorry, these seats are taken.”

Table 2. “These seats are taken. Sorry.”

My spirit was so dampened by the time we got to Table 3, that, had they turned us away, I would have marched straight up to the line and asked for two to-go boxes. Thankfully, there was room at their table.

They didn't speak much, and almost as soon as we sat down, they got up to leave, and Andy and I were left to sit quietly alone, when a young man with a bright smile approached us and asked if the seats at our table were taken. We were so happy for the acknowledgement, we invited him to all the seats. As it turned out, we had to add one more chair to fit in his whole crew.

This young man and his girlfriend were meeting each others parents (and a set of grandparents) for the first time. Though we were such a mixed bag of individuals, we were still able to find common ground and swap stories. Andy is so good at chatting. While I prefer to enjoy listening to a conversation, Andy jumps right in and participates. There are few lulls in any discussion when he is around.

They were such friendly and delightful people! We tarried there in the cafeteria longer than we intended so that we could chat with them a bit longer.

My favorite part of the conversation? The young man's grandparents had been married for 50 years and Andy asked them their secret. The elderly man said, “Never forget – love is not a feeling. Love is a decision that you make every day.”

I think that can apply to any relationship. Go choose love today.   

...insecurities...

Have you ever experienced paralyzing insecurity? The kind of insecurity where you know you have a task to do and you want to do it, but you just can't bring yourself to do it, too afraid that you'll fail?

That's how I've felt this week. So I resorted to my old ways and hid in my house, daydreaming of adventure, but unwilling to step into it. I'm not sure why...

In spite of all your encouragement and kind words, I continue to put pressure on myself to have the most amazing adventures and then write something profound about each of them. As days go by, I began to wonder if my words mattered, if they were changing anything for the better.

Then, this happened:

Today, Andy texted me as I was getting my hair done and told me he had made granola bars. Do you remember the great granola bar debacle of 2014, here and here? Well, Andy decided that he would step out of his comfort zone and attempt to make granola bars, all on his own. And they taste absolutely delicious! I'm so proud that he took a risk and tried something so new to him! But the best part was seeing how pleased he was with his success! He's now a bit braver because of his adventure.

Many of my friends now speak in terms of “adventures,” something I don't remember hearing many of them say before. It's so much fun to see their pictures and hear their stories. It makes me feel like we're taking this journey together, like I'm not alone as I seek to make something out of each new day. These simple things reminded me why I started my blog.

The word adventure may be misleading. Not everything I do will be death-defying. (In fact, with Andy's birthday swiftly approaching, he's wanting to go skydiving, and though I desperately want to join him so that he can have a buddy, my eyes instantly tear up at the thought. I'm not sure I'm ready for that jump yet.)

Photo courtesy of longislandphotoblog.com

A better way to describe my desire in starting this blog is that I wanted to force myself to live each day intentionally. I was tired of dismissing days as unimportant. I wanted to savor each moment, because I was beginning to understand the brevity...and beauty...of my life.

I recently read this quote:

“Your life is made of two dates and a dash. Make the most of the dash.”

How are you making the most of the dash?

...the best laid plans...

I'm not able to go into great detail at the moment, but I spent the day planning for a big event, only to have those plans turned completely upside down by evening.

I have to laugh. I am fully aware of the futility in getting angry or frustrated in moments like this. I don't even bother to think that the whole day has been a waste. Each day, I'm reminded of how we need to hold our plans with open hands, because we never know what the next moment might hold. This is all part of the adventure.

Are your knuckles white with determination? What would happen if you loosened your grip? What will happen if you don't?

...quiet days...

Thankfully, I had cleaned the house before leaving for vacation, so I spent today getting myself in order.

I combed through emails, deleting, responding, and archiving until the whole thing was down to a more manageable size. I danced in the living room. I prepped for upcoming events, adventures I'd be taking this week and in the coming month. I finished a book. I planned lessons. I made meals. I wrote thank you notes. And I tried to catch up on a TV show.

It was a (mostly) quiet day. A day to reinvigorate myself for the coming week. Sometimes, I'm so desperate to live in a world of adventure, that I forget the importance, the necessity, of quiet days.

Have you prepared yourself for the start of a new week? Mondays don't have to be terrible if you're prepared. I hope it's a great one!

...a night at the symphony...

A generous family gave me two tickets to the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra this evening, in the nicest seats I have ever had the pleasure of enjoying at Powell Hall. Unfortunately, Andy had to work the night shift, so I invited a colleague to join me.

Marsha Medley, a piano teacher and composer, is always fun to be around. At times cantankerous, but always hilarious, she is an outspoken social activist, who doesn't sit back quietly when she witnesses wrongdoing. She is one of the few people I know who regularly stands up in defense of others. At 5'1”, her small frame belies her big heart. She is also a church music director, organist and composer. You can hear some of Marsha's music here on her YouTube Channel.

Tonight, the SLSO played Ingram Marshall's Bright Kingdoms, Korngold's Violin Concerto in D and Dvorak's Symphony No. 9 “From the New World.” Bright Kingdoms was different, modern, a bit eerie, with pre-recorded children's voices that, at times, made it feel like we were in a horror movie. I wasn't disappointed when it was over.

Always a fan of the New World Symphony, and familiar with the majority of it, my body kept time with the beat, rising and falling with the swells in sound, allowing the music to wash over me. But the highlight for me was Korngold's Violin Concerto in D Major. While the music was beautiful, sweeping and altogether romantic, it was the artist, Gil Shaham, who brought the piece to life.

Obviously a joyful man, Mr. Shaham's face regularly reflected different emotions throughout the piece, the most notable, and most frequent, of which was joy! It was almost as if there was a dance happening between the conductor, Maestro David Robertson, and Mr. Shaham. Brothers by marriage, there was a tangible delight and energy between the two that infected the orchestra and the audience. You couldn't help but be pulled into their light-hearted dance. It was delightful to watch them interact, both with each other, the players and the audience.

A simple waltz was chosen as the encore, and at the end of the piece, Maestro Robertson reached out and plucked the last note on Mr. Shaham's violin, garnering a chuckle from the audience, and cementing to the outsider the strength of their relationship.

I love seeing the orchestra conducted by David Robertson. Marsha commented on how Maestro Robertson always brings a level of fun and joy to each concert, and she couldn't be more correct. If you ever have the opportunity to see him, allow me to encourage you to go.

For more information about the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra, the second-oldest symphony in the United States, and for a list of their upcoming performances, click here.

...eyes up...

(Friday, March 21)

Home again, home again...

It's hard to believe that spring break is over and we will both be heading back to work tomorrow. We have returned deliriously spent.

Andy is a huge Seinfeld fan, so we took the subway to Tom's Restaurant for breakfast. Afterwards, we walked around Central Park, before catching a cab back to lower east side for some shopping. We ducked into a few stores before arriving at Tiffany and Co.

As promised, Andy bought me something extra special so as to remember our trip. It is utterly dainty, exactly my style, and I feel just as delicate when I wear it. While this was certainly an indulgence, perhaps there are times for indulgence? I'm thankful that Andy can sense in which moments to be extravagant and which moments should remain simple.

We learned a lot on this trip.

Andy learned how to hail a cab. After a discouraging start, he began to watch New Yorkers to see how it was done and then began to imitate them until he was successful. Isn't that life? Stepping out into the din and raising up your hand for what you want, what you need, instead of waiting for it to fall into your lap? Undeterred by how you might look or how you think you might look or how others react or how you think they might react?

It was a challenge to stand back and watch him fail, watch him get frustrated, cross his arms and refuse to do anything. Too often we step in on someone before they have the chance to build up the courage. In the end, he successfully did exactly what I knew he could do all along – two times! My hero!

One lesson that we both had to learn: to look up. We had become dependent on a cell phone GPS to guide us to our destinations, but it was only able to get us so far.

In searching for a subway station outside of Bryant Park, the dear GPS kept insisting, “You have arrived. You have arrived.” but there was no subway station in sight. Agitated and annoyed, I stomped up onto some steps and surveyed our surroundings. In that exact moment, the hoards of people cluttering the streets parted like the red sea and, pasted on a distant wall, I could see the colored circles indicating the presence of a subway station.

In life, we can miss important, sometimes imperative, details if our eyes are constantly looking down. Where is your gaze fixed?

...today in pictures...

(Thursday, March 20)

Breakfast at Penelope. Little hole in the wall Andy discovered.

A walk across the Brooklyn Bridge.

The original soup man. It was good soup!

pie face per brenda's suggestion - um, yum!

St. Paul's Chapel, City Hall and the subway - which we quickly figured out

Loved Wicked so much, we camped out in the tkts line for tix to another show.

New York City under the moon from the Empire State Building.  Picture taken by my amazing husband.

We walked back to our hotel at 1am and crashed.  It was an amazing day!  We would recommend all of these activities to anyone headed to New York City.

...today in pictures...

(Wednesday, March 19)

Top of the Rock (Rockefeller Center) looking out at the Empire State Building.

30 Rock!  Taxis!

Love this pic of him - so carefree!

My happy place!

Peanut butter cups as big as my face!

Wicked was amazing! The new Elphaba was phenomenal, I wept!

Mom and I at Ellen's Stardust Diner with the singing waitstaff!

While I didn't get a picture of our singing waiter, I did take a video. You can (and should) watch it here. Perhaps someday we'll be coming to Broadway to see Stephen! (Sorry for the poor video quality in the middle. I had a coat and purse wrapped around my legs.)

When we got back to our hotel, they informed us that they didn't have any of the rooms that we had booked, so they upgraded us to suite! A suite! It's pretty awesome! We celebrated by going to bed. We were so tired.

Thanks for coming on our adventure with us! I hope you're having a wonderful week!

...last days...

(Tuesday, March 18)

Making memories is exhausting.

Andy and I have made it a priority to spend as much time with my family as possible, each day a little time spent here and there, in conversation or playing games.

We taught my grandparents how to play Qwirkle.

My nieces and nephew taught us this new version of cups (without cups.)

We took my parents to see The Monuments Men at the movie theater.

We taught my sister and mother how to play Qwirkle.

My nieces and nephew taught us the Game of Knowledge (a trivia game where I know some of the answers!) and Blokus (our new favorite game!!)

We sat with my grandparents and talked about past and present events and future hopes.

We watched The Good Wife with my parents.

When I type it all up it doesn't seem like a lot, but we're tired. Still, I wouldn't trade these memories for any amount of sleep. I'm still smiling.

I'm hopeful that you have plans to make great memories with the ones you love this week.

...deep breaths...

(Monday, March 17)

From the moment we are born, our parents shelter us, clothe us, feed us, love us and advocate on our behalf. What happens when those roles slowly begin to reverse?

My mom was rear-ended back in early February. The man in front of her stopped to let someone out of their parking spot, my mom stopped, but the man behind her (and the man behind him) did not stop. The man directly behind my mother then got out of his car, ran up to my mother's window, and yelled at her for stopping. Ultimately, this man's horrible behavior, which did not stop there, caused my mother to have an episode akin to a panic attack, until she was capable of spitting out the words to leave her alone until the police came.

No one was hurt in the incident, and all the damages are minor, but my mother has been on a six week quest to have her back bumper fixed, to no avail.

I was furious after hearing the story. All I really wanted to do was punch the man who yelled at my mother in the face, but I decided I'd settle for getting her bumper fixed. I called her insurance company (the adjustor didn't return my mother's five calls) and was transferred to someone else who began the process of taking care of the issue.

I spoke to another insurance company's adjustor (this is really ridiculous but initially my mother's insurance company told her she needed to call the insurance company of the guy who had hit her!) who had, a few weeks prior, misread the police report and also yelled at my mother telling her that she had hit his client. Hilarious, considering my mother was rear-ended. Just a total idiot. Not once did he apologize, instead shifting blame to say that the police report was difficult to read and it was semantics! Semantics! He then tried to yell at me. How do you think that went over?

Within 24 hours, my mother's insurance company called and said they would send someone out to assess the damages and have the car fixed.

This is a strange, new role to consider. I've never had to do something like this before, though I frequently have to consider how I will take care of my parents when I am so far away. But as time continues to pass, this will likely become more and more commonplace in my visits with my parents, and I'm hopeful that I will be resilient and brave enough to advocate on their behalf.

...welcome home...

After sleeping for nearly 12 hours, we rolled out of bed just in time to see the family heading off to church. Disappointed that we couldn't join them, we watched an episode of our new favorite show and then got ready for the day.

We planned to see the hometown St. Patty's Day parade today, as I hadn't gone to many parades growing up and we thought it might be fun. Mummers, many fife and drum bands, Irish dancers, high school bands, girl scout troupes, and other acts filled the streets. I soon realized that most people had come to see their friends and family marching in the parade.

There were no police barriers which left many small children wandering into the middle of the street. Parents were expected to haul their children out of the way of oncoming cars and trucks, a difficult task considering that there was so much candy being strewn about.

Oh, the candy! Is this what parades are all about?

Me and my momma

Candy getting was certainly an exercise in survival-of-the-fittest, with the older children swooping in before the younger children even knew a candy had hit the ground. It was sad to watch...and sort of funny. So I started to pick up some candy and pass it to the little kids in our vicinity.

We left the parade early to see my grandparents and my Uncle Len, a bachelor, who recently retired and moved home to take care of his aging parents. I'm wondering what he'll do with his new found freedom. I'm hoping it will be wonderful.

Then, my brother, sister-in-law, and nieces and nephews came over for a Thanksgiving-style meal. After dinner, we played games, chatted and held an impromptu jam session with a twelve-string guitar and a ganjo (a 6-stringed banjo.) Sara played the twelve-string, DJ the ganjo, with Mia on lap drums, while Anthony, Andy and I tried to figure out some harmonies. Imagine Dragons, Bruno Mars, and Journey were just a few on our playlist. Of course, it was our Amazing Grace harmonies that were most stunning. Or maybe it was our renditions of the ABC's or You Are My Sunshine. I might have the coolest nieces and nephews around.

These are the moments that make me long for home.

Did you stay in your hometown?  If so, what made you stay?  If not, how often do you go back?

While this small, quaint town doesn't hold much, it does hold the hearts of some of the people I love most in this world, and that makes it so very precious.

Have a wonderful start to your week!

...homeward bound...

Traveling certainly saps your energy! Which is odd, considering all we really did today was sit around and start a new show.

But Andy had worked the night shift on Friday, and I had was sick with a stomach bug (again!) all night long, so we were both excruciatingly exhausted by the time was arrived at my parents house at 10pm, and barely made it through a light dinner before needing to head to bed.

Our flight to LaGuardia was perfect, we found the shuttle quickly, and we boarded our bus with five minutes to spare. All of these things I had never done before, and I must say, it's somewhat empowering to successfully navigate your way around an extremely large city.

We will spend the next three days in Pennsylvania visiting with my family, and then we will finish our spring break in New York. I'm looking forward to spending some quality time with them, some of whom I haven't seen in the past year.

In truth, I couldn't wait to get out of the small town that I grew up in. I moved to the middle of the country to get as far, far away as I could, though I always saw myself coming back to the east coast someday. I guess I feared that the town would suck me in and I would be trapped there forever. Is that how most people feel about their hometowns?  

But I miss my people, my family. They are what make homecomings so beautiful. I'm not sure if I have any other nostalgia for this place. 

We'll see what the next few days hold.

March 15, 2014

...pi(e) day...

My fondness for pie is almost as strong as my fondness for mathematics.

Meaning, I detest both.

But I've never baked a pie, and what better day to learn how to bake a pie than on Pi day? So I searched Pinterest and found a Boston Cream Pie recipe. To me, this hardly qualifies as pie, since it's much more like a cake, but who am I to argue with the experts? Pie it is!

This was a recipe that had me doing many different things simultaneously, but the majority of it was rather easy. The most difficult part was making the custard. I made two cakes, an 8” and a 4”, and I planned to have the smaller one for our dessert tonight (we'll give the other one away tomorrow) so it became my little trial run. Unfortunately, the yummy custard turned out crazy runny, as you can see from the picture. I even tried to put it in the freezer to freeze it a bit, but that didn't help.

I'm learning not to get instantly discouraged when a recipe doesn't go my way. This time, I searched “why is my custard runny” on the internet, and the general consensus was that it hadn't been cooked long enough. So I took it out of the freezer and fired up the stove again, and this time waited till it was good and thick. And this is what the give away pie looks like. Success!!

So I spent the day learning how to make custard, how to create a makeshift double boiler, how to properly cut a cake in half horizontally, and how to use my resources to fix my dilemma.

I also spent the day cleaning, scrubbing vacuuming, watering the plants and packing in preparation for our big trip.

How did you spend your Pi day?

...love and marriage...

One of the gifts I gave Andy this past Christmas was a year of dates. Our March date? Spa day!

Andy, my manly man, is instantly uncomfortable at the thought of receiving mani/pedis and putting on face creams, but once a year he lets me pull out all of my favorite Mary Kay products purely for the sake of pampering. We lock ourselves in the house and give each other foot massages and facials and body massages and head massages, while catching up on our shows.

(It's really more a special day for me and he reluctantly, but cheerfully, joins in.)

Today was, of course, delightfully fun...until we started to argue. Andy and I aren't really the yell-y types, so our arguments are really just super intense conversations, but it's completely obvious when we are upset with one another.

We also rarely fight. Today Andy commented that our most common arguments center around the temperature in our bedroom. (He likes it cold...I like it hot.) But today's argument was not about the temperature. In fact, it's an area of our relationship that needs routine monitoring and discussion. This can be challenging for two reasons.

One, there are times when we both want to give up and throw in the towel and not have the discussion anymore. That can seem like the easy way out. But that doesn't resolve the issue and it creates a separation between us. Living with that wall for too long, and we could end up growing completely apart.

Two, finding a way to have the same discussion without being discouraged (or discouraging) presents some problems. I have to admit, Andy is much better than I am at being encouraging in situations like this. By example, he's teaching me how to be patient and positive as we wrestle with our problems.

Marriage isn't easy. No relationship is. Relationships will always require effort, and we must be willing to work at them everyday. Relationships have the power to change us for better or for worse, and we have the power to choose which one. For me, learning to put aside my own habitual selfishness continues to be a daily struggle, and some days are better than others. But I'm growing, and changing, and thinking more about him than about myself.

In the end, Andy and I said our apologies, sought forgiveness, cuddled it out and ended our date day at a fancy dinner. Even amidst our issues, there is no one with whom I would have rather spent the day.

Are you dealing with a difficult relationship? I'd like to encourage you to make that person a priority this week. You might find it makes all difference.

You can get a free printable of the quote above here.

...hard work...

A dear friend and colleague, Jana, gave me a tiny little aloe plant last year. It has been growing steadily and has become this mammoth beast. It also gave birth to two little plants of its own, and today, I repotted them, along with some other plants, and gave the cute little babies away.

I've always believed that I had a black thumb. Most plants die within of few months of coming home with me. It's discouraging to watch them go from healthy to withered or yellow from overwatering.

Last summer was the first summer that my garden actually grew and yielded a (very small) crop, due to some important factors. One, the weather was not as scorching as it had been in summers past, when you could actually smell the peppers cooking on the vine. Two, I had rearranged my patio pot garden and committed myself to watering the plants twice daily.

By the end of the summer, it occurred to me that both nature and I had to be working together for my garden to succeed. It was a great realization, one that I've been able to apply to many aspects of my life.

Are you working hard in the direction of your dreams? Have you set specific goals? How can I encourage you to work toward them?

“We often miss opportunity because it comes dressed in overalls and looks like work.” – Edison

Without a doubt, success is hard work, but, in the end, it's worth all the blood, sweat and tears that you pour into it.

“Never give up – never surrender!” – Buzz Lightyear

...this amazing day...

i thank You God for most this amazing

day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

e.e.cummings

This is what my heart sang as I stepped out into the sun this morning, opening my arms as if to accept the full glory of it's rays.

This is what my lungs breathed in as I rolled down the windows, allowing the warm air to tousle my hair into an inevitable matted mess.

This is what my lips squealed as I repeatedly blasted U2's Beautiful Day, desperate not to let this day slip away.

This is what filled my mind as I took pictures of my own real life blue true dream of sky. If only my iPhone could have captured the sunset. Close your eyes and imagine hot pink and orange clouds stretched out across a deepening blue expanse.

Spring is coming. And with it, the promise of new life, new adventure, and renewed hope. Are you ready to dive into all that is infinite, all that is yes?

I needed today. After a bitter winter, and more snow days than I can remember, I needed a reminder of all that was to come. I needed a moment to bask in the sunshine and feel the warm breeze kiss my face before this Wednesday's impending snow squall.

Tomorrow is rumored to be another beautiful day. Hopefully, wherever you are, it will be just as glorious for you. How will you be enjoying it?

...old friends...

When Matt and I get together, there is bound to be some silly music making.

Matt Safley and I became friends by chance, mostly, I suspect, because we were in the same vicinity. A co-worker, and a profoundly talented pianist, our friendship was forged through the joys of shared interests and the trials of shared experiences. I can't imagine someone else taking his place in my circle of friends. He is irreplaceable.

Lately, my mind has been circling around the inevitable entrances and exits of people in our lives. I am an out-of-sight, out-of-mind kind of person, something that I admitted to Matt as we walked around my neighborhood in our flip-flops, relishing the warmer weather and a later sunset. It's definitely not one of my better qualities.

I'm not sure why I'm this way, though I expect it's because I'm selfish, and I'm still having trouble owning up to that. Some people will say that we have friends for a time, and when the time is over then the separation becomes a natural part of life. I suppose so. But must it leave such a sting?

As we walked and talked, Matt and I weighed securities and risks. As we sat at the piano and sang, we shared our hopes and dreams for music making. As we harmonized to the ukulele, we laughed and planned. Funny, talented, creative, stylish, hardworking and (my favorite) silly, Matt is a friend worth cherishing and I hope that we remain friends well into our old age.

And I think that's true for all my friends. If you read this and you've felt neglected by me, will you be brave enough to let me know? I'd like to make it right because you matter to me as well. I don't want our friendship to fall by the wayside because of my bad habits.

Though Matt and I had intended to record some new ukulele oldies, we found ourselves needing to catch up a bit more.  It had been many months since we last hung out together. We promise to record and share a video soon. In the meantime (I seriously think I'll regret this) here's one from last year. Please note, we hadn't practiced this song before recording it. No judgements, ok? Just love. If anything, it's intended to bring you into our lives so you can laugh along with us.

Have a fabulous Monday!   

Arch Rival Roller Girls

Rebel Skate Alliance vs. Stunt Devils

My fascination with roller derby began after watching an episode of the ABC Family television show “Bunheads.” (Yes, I watched Bunheads.) Then, when it was featured in an episode of “Bones,” I had to learn more.

Touted as the Super Bowl of St. Louis' roller derby league, I headed to Chaifetz Arena tonight to cheer on the ladies of the Arch Rival Roller Girls. I was all prepared to go by myself, until Karen texted me and said she and her husband, Mike, were coming along. I'm so glad they did! Life is more fun when lived with others!

We found three great seats together as they announced the first bout. Derby names are my favorite part! Names like Prof. Rumbledore, Tragedy Anne, Cloak n' Drag-Her, Ida the Living Dead, Carmina Pirahna, and Artemischief rang through the speakers. St. Louis Mayor Francis Slay blew the starting whistle to signal the start of the game, and we studied our programs and the cheat sheets they provided until we had a pretty clear picture of how the game is played.

M-80s vs. Smashinistas

Like all the best sports, mascots riled the crowds with signs and silly costumes. Jeerleaders launched T-shirts into the crowd with slingshots. (It was comedy gold.) But the best part of the evening was hearing the love the crowd had for these women, with friends, family and strangers cheering, doing the wave, and jumping from their seats when a jammer would pass the pack. These ladies are incredibly loved.

Roller derby might sound silly to some, but trust me, these women are amazingly athletic. I can only imagine the bruises and broken bones that occur from playing or practicing. Karen kept repeating, “This looks so hard!”

Silly faces

Before I had even seen a game, I sent the ARRG an email asking about tryouts. I'm not sure if I'm ready to be roller derby road kill, though. Karen and I are going to practice roller skating sometime soon, and we'll see how I do. Maybe I'll see if I can volunteer first. Also, I'd need a killer roller derby name. Any stunning ideas?

Mike cheering

All in all, it was a great way to spend a Friday evening! If you have never been to a roller derby bout, consider attending one in the next few months. It's well worth the price of admission.

For more information on the Arch Rival Roller Girls, click here for their website, or click here for their Facebook page.

...planned spontaneity...

Andy and I woke up early and spent the morning planning for our next big adventure! His excitement matched mine when we began, but by the third hour, his passion was gone. I can't blame him.

Planning is just plain exhausting.

Scouring the internet, looking up locations, hours, prices and places to eat. Painstakingly making purchases and hoping that it will all work out. Calling attractions on the phone so you can get some much needed information. All while trying to organize your trip around the city into neat piles so that you aren't traipsing here and there all day. And that doesn't include the disappointment when you realize some activities will have to be saved for another time.

Because so much of our itinerary is dependent on outside forces, i.e. weather, we will most likely not be able to stick to our plan, but I feel better knowing that we have one.  I believe that we will be able to react to any disturbances with patience and optimism because we'll be prepared to reorganize our daily adventures to our specific needs in a moment's notice.

There are some people who will vigorously plan, and who will desperately cling to that plan. Should anything happen outside of that plan, they get scared and don't know how to react. Some shut down and cannot function outside of the plan.

Others will almost never bother with a plan, or they'll plan little in an attempt to be spontaneous. Sadly, these non-planners miss out on some exciting adventures because they don't even realize that there is an adventure to be had.

While making a plan is important, there will always be some things that are out of our control and we must adapt. On the other hand, being the right person in the right place at the right time takes some skilled planning. Ultimately, I'm thinking that we're going to need both if we want our trip (and our lives) to be successful.

Are you in the process of making plans? How are they coming along?

...things kids say...

After a big performance, I like to treat my classes to a music game day!  This week, I've been teaching my students the composer game.

Similar to "Go Fish," students ask their classmates for specific composer cards trying to gather four of the same composer to make a book.  The student with the most books of composers at the end of the game wins.  To challenge them further, I review each composer's name and they are expected to say the names correctly, or lose their turn.  Here are some of the best pronunciations I've heard so far:

Puccini:  Punk-soo-ee-knee

Bach: Baaaaaaaa

Mendelssohn: Men-skull-skin

Schubert: Sherbert

Chopin: Choppin, Tripon, Shapron

Wolfgang Amadeus: Wolfgame I'm-a-dress

Handel: Headroll

Tchaikovsky: Chai-cough-squee

Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky: Peter Light-switch Cherpatsy

It's been a fun week.  Kids are amazing!  My students and I have been laughing a lot.  Though, between work and work meetings, I was  unable to get for an official adventure today, teaching something new is always an adventure.

Hopefully these put a smile on your face as well!

...loved by God...

The MOCRA (Museum of Contemporary Religious Art), voted St. Louis' best museum in 2013 by Riverfront Times readers, is the world's first interfaith museum of contemporary art. It engages religious and spiritual themes and is dedicated to the ongoing dialogue between contemporary artists and the world's faith traditions.

It's a small museum, and at first I found it underwhelming and considered leaving. But as I peered more closely, I found myself enthralled at the creative capacity of ordinary people.

There was this piece by Jordan Eagles, a New York based artist, who uses animal blood (obtained from slaughterhouses,) layered at different densities, and heated, burned, and aged to create a sort of stained glass window.

This photograph, by artist, DoDo Jin Ming, which is actually a field of sunflowers, printed in negative and toned, some of them with mesh over their flowery faces for research purposes, making them look like hooded figures and giving a normally cheery scene an ominous overtone.

The paper cutting technique, a Jewish tradition dating back to the 14^thcentury, featured in Archie Granot design make a two dimension medium come alive in three dimensions. I can't imagine the time, effort and patience put into this piece.

In the main hall, a set of wood carvings is displayed on a side wall. Big and bright and colorful, I wasn't impressed at first sight, and nearly walked away. But as I examined the face, I was astounded at how well it had been carved. The accompanying plaque beside the art told of the artist, Adrian Kellard, who died of AIDS related causes in 1991 and his art. It read, “he explored his coming to terms with being an Irish-Italian, Catholic gay man who was loved by God.”

...loved by God...

God and I are going through a rough patch.

It's not like the drag out screaming and yelling kind of fighting like you would see in The Apostle. It's more like we are an old married couple, who live under the same roof yet don't speak to one another. Or like the empty nesters who don't know how to communicate now that our children are gone. And though you may tell me that I'm wrong, I feel that God started this silence between us, and I don't know why. But that's another story for another day.

Please note that I do not feel that God stands over me and insists that I do this thing or that thing. I do not feel that he is angry or cross with me. I do feel like he's waiting for me. To do what, I don't know...but waiting...patiently...and also lovingly.

Perhaps this is one step in the evolution of any God journey. Perhaps these highs and lows, ebbing and flowing through our lives, are intended weave something more beautiful than we could have ever imagined. Maybe...I don't know. I'm really not sure of much right now, except for this:

I am loved by God...no, I am more than just loved...I am so loved.

...and so are you.

For more information about the MOCRA, click here.

...take 2...

never give up...never surrender...

After yesterday's mishap with the granola, and an encouraging response from my big sister, I decided to give that recipe one more try.

I bought more ingredients, lowered the oven temperature and added all the love I could muster. When I finally pulled them out of the oven, they looked (and smelled) so much better than yesterday.

Andy and I gave them a try tonight and they taste... better, but not what I was expecting. Andy ate a few of yesterday's granola bars (I'm not sure how) and he said that he would definitely eat these. He's a good husband. I think I'm going to set this granola bar baking fascination to the side until I get a trusted recipe, or have a friend over to supervise.

Though I tried again, I still didn't achieve my desired outcome. As I was baking, I so hoped they would turn out wonderfully. I wanted my story of triumph after defeat to inspire you to rush out and conquer your own world. But that's not how life works, is it?

Still, I'm hopeful that, whatever you are facing, you, too, will try again...and again...and again.

...adventure gone awry...

Dewey's Pizza School. That was supposed to be the big adventure for today. Learning to make one of the best pizzas in our area. I had been looking forward to it all week. But dear Mother Nature decided to, once again, dump a wintery mix in the St. Louis area, that has left the city silent and still. The class was rescheduled for a later date. So I decided to finally give that granola recipe I'd been eyeing on Pinterest a try. My eyes are still burning...

As a new baker, I'm learning to make sure I follow all the directions. Don't get me wrong, I follow directions...mostly. It's just that sometimes I think adding a bit more sugar, or vanilla, will make it have more taste. Sometimes, though, I can forget to add something that very necessary because I'm not following the directions.

But not today. I measured those ingredients and made sure everything was prepared to be used. I even learned how to perfectly pack brown sugar. The recipe that I chose said that crunchy granola bars come from toasting the oats beforehand, so I prepped them and set in the oven at the correct temperature. I even set a timer (I never set a timer) for ten minutes so that I could stir them. Twenty minutes in, when I opened the oven door to stir the oats a second time, I began to think something had gone terribly wrong.

No fire alarms went off, and I didn't see any smoke in the house, but when I opened the oven door some unseen force hit my eyes making them burn and water. I pulled out the oats 5 minutes before the twenty-five minute bake time and set them on stove. Through teary eyes surveyed the oats, which were much darker than the picture. The burning sensation in my eyes became so great that I had to step out of the kitchen for a moment. When I returned, I poured the honey/brown sugar mixture into the oats and pressed on in the hopes that it was just a little dark.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Nailed it!!

You can still smell the lingering scent of burnt oats, in the house, on my clothes, in my hair. The stench is so bad, in fact, that I felt it necessary to google “are burned oats toxic?” I couldn't find a straight answer, so, they very well might be. If we're dead tomorrow, tell the coroner it was the oats. I think it even woke Andy up, as he came downstairs to see what was going on. And it's so cold outside that you can't even open a window to air out the house.

What's sad is that I think they would be really great, if not for the burned aftertaste. Oh, the aftertaste! The memory of it makes me shudder.

Failing is no fun. Whether that failure is big or small, feelings of defeat, frustration and confusion bubble to the surface and can crush any hopeful spirit. And though we can't change the fact that we've failed, we can decide what we'll do with that failure. Will the crush be momentary, or will we hang onto it indefinitely? Will we learn something new and press forward or shrink back? Will we give up or will we try again? In this moment, we have the power. We decide the direction of our story.

So...this adventure in baking was a bust and, yeah, we're not going to be eating these. Anyone have any suggestions as to what I should do with them? Go to the park and feed the birds?