Remember when you were a little kid and had to write that essay that started off like "If I got to be President for a day, I would..." and then what followed was a laundry list of promises that sounded eerily similar to the same exact promises we made to each other when running for student council? (Four day school weeks! Free pop for everyone! No more MEATLOAF MONDAYS! PIZZA PARTIES EVERY DAY! It's our RIGHT! WHO'S WITH ME?!)
No one asks me anymore what I would do if I called the shots. Probably because I'm an "adult" and therefore I "make my own decisions." HAHA. Just kidding guys. I don't really know what I'm doing most of the time and even when I think I do, I am often proven wrong by this little thing called Life.
The point is, I tried this new recipe last week. My b-f-f Sarah said I need to embrace the crock pot and you know what? I agree. Who wants to cook when they get home from a day of work? Not this moi. I have way too much Damages to watch for that kind of thing.
So, I turned to the trusty Pinterest and found this gem.
It's risky, you know, trying a new recipe and all and for some reason the slow cooker heightens the anticipation because you just don't know what's going to happen when you remove the lid after 10 hours.
Luckily for everyone, this recipe was a major success. NOT ONLY did my husband eat this for three meals straight, but after his first bite, his eyes lit up and he said AND I QUOTE, "You are Queen of the Crockpot."
Soooo yeah. Movin up in the world. And as your Crockpot Queen, I would just like to say--nay, MANDATE--FREE POP FOR EVERYONE! And someone please invent calorie-free brownies already. IT'S OUR RIGHT!
Who's with me?!
p.s. Make this soup. Unless you are a hater (ahem, DAD) and upon hearing the very WORDS "sweet potato", wrinkle your nose in disgust and say, "Ughhhhh. That is gross." In which case you are banished from my kingdom but can buy your way back in with ice cream.
1.30.2012
1.26.2012
It's complicated.
The problem with doing hard things is that well, it's hard.
It's a romantic notion, sure, but in practice? It can be kind of terrible.
I mean, who wants to wake up with their stomach all in knots? Who wants to risk failure or embarrassment or...well, really anything at all?
There is a reason, after all, that we have not done that hard thing already.
There is no reason, in many cases, that we have to do that hard thing at all.
So to choose it? To choose challenge, sacrifice, interruption in mere hopes that in the end, it will be worth it?
How absurd!
And yet...
It's a romantic notion, sure, but in practice? It can be kind of terrible.
I mean, who wants to wake up with their stomach all in knots? Who wants to risk failure or embarrassment or...well, really anything at all?
There is a reason, after all, that we have not done that hard thing already.
There is no reason, in many cases, that we have to do that hard thing at all.
So to choose it? To choose challenge, sacrifice, interruption in mere hopes that in the end, it will be worth it?
How absurd!
And yet...
1.20.2012
Both/and.
Feeling this, especially in this new, shiny season of order, planning, list-making, thinking, evaluating, re-evaluating:
"Being reflective is both a blessing and a curse, a potential for strength and for weakness. It can lead equally well toward truth or error. Life can be richer, more textured, more challenging, more meaningful. Likewise, it can become more barren, more threatening, more overwhelming."
-Daniel Taylor, The Myth of Certainty
"Being reflective is both a blessing and a curse, a potential for strength and for weakness. It can lead equally well toward truth or error. Life can be richer, more textured, more challenging, more meaningful. Likewise, it can become more barren, more threatening, more overwhelming."
-Daniel Taylor, The Myth of Certainty
1.12.2012
Where our crap comes from.
I encourage you to listen to this podcast. It was well worth the hour of my time.
Basically, it's about this guy who loves Apple products and is totally obsessed with technology. Then one day he wonders where it's all made. And so the adventure begins...
I love This American Life.
(FYI, for a very short time, it was also a TV show. It rocked. You can watch it for free here.)
p.s. For the first time in a looooong time, I am wearing brown AND black. I feel both daring and apologetic. My middle-school self would be horrified. To that middle-school Sara, I would like to say:
"Dude. Lay off. It's a new year and I'm pretty sure it's cool now. Also, at least I've discovered HAIR GEL! Oops. Sorry. That was a low blow. Forget everything I just said and go enjoy Surge while it lasts.
OH! And would you believe that one day you will get to watch Titanic in 3D?! TRUE! You know I wouldn't lie about something like that. (sidenote: Leo may not return your fan letters but life will go on.)
ALSO, right at this very moment your future husband is out there in the world with blond spiky hair playing guitar in a rock band soooo yeah. Ignore all those idiots around you, read more books, gossip less and you know what? Enjoy "family time." You'll miss it one day."
Basically, it's about this guy who loves Apple products and is totally obsessed with technology. Then one day he wonders where it's all made. And so the adventure begins...
I love This American Life.
(FYI, for a very short time, it was also a TV show. It rocked. You can watch it for free here.)
p.s. For the first time in a looooong time, I am wearing brown AND black. I feel both daring and apologetic. My middle-school self would be horrified. To that middle-school Sara, I would like to say:
"Dude. Lay off. It's a new year and I'm pretty sure it's cool now. Also, at least I've discovered HAIR GEL! Oops. Sorry. That was a low blow. Forget everything I just said and go enjoy Surge while it lasts.
OH! And would you believe that one day you will get to watch Titanic in 3D?! TRUE! You know I wouldn't lie about something like that. (sidenote: Leo may not return your fan letters but life will go on.)
ALSO, right at this very moment your future husband is out there in the world with blond spiky hair playing guitar in a rock band soooo yeah. Ignore all those idiots around you, read more books, gossip less and you know what? Enjoy "family time." You'll miss it one day."
1.06.2012
Lately:
Reading:
A true
story about both the Chicago World Fair AND a Chicago serial killer (weird
combo but it was really fascinating—and I usually dislike nonfiction!—and only
sometimes terrifying); a hilarious memoir
(rumor has it that if you get the audio book she reads it herself!); an
interesting collection
of ideas regarding Christianity; and now, a novel
that, though I’m halfway through, I still can’t decide if I like (Catcher in
the Rye-esque).
Also, really
liking these two blogs –especially posts like this
(about journalism), this
(about living an exceptional life) , this (about
relationships in a digital age) and this
(about reputation vs character).
Also, consuming a ridiculous
amount of news articles to be discussed with my husband which usually ends in us
both being really stressed out. But also feeling informed (ish) so…win? (I
personally have discovered this
website to be a really fascinating take on the difficult—impossible?—fight
to write without bias, especially, in my opinion, when it comes to politics.)
Watching:
America
in Primetime (if you only watch one, watch “The Misfit.” Trust me.)
Thinking:
Wouldn’t it be nice if I could bottle motivation and sip on
it all year?
...and youuu?
1.04.2012
I like you but...
If you're anything like me, yesterday was a total drag as you muddled your way through a work day that felt never ending (times a billion since we were OUT OF COFFEE! OH THE AGONY!). You wanted to crawl back to last week and stay there forever--a land full of lattes! and date nights! and reading Tina Fey's book in less than 24 hours just because you could!!!
But you made it to today and things are better (read: two cups of coffee and four chocolates. WHAT?!).
It's glorious to take a break from "real life" and recharge and give yourself permission to do nothing in all sorts of ways. It's a treat to get enough sleep and not have pinched shoulders or even an eye twitch.
It's awesome to see all sorts of your favorite people and all be in the same physical space for more than five minutes. And to just laugh the crazy Liz Lemon laugh when you do things such as drop the peanut butter jar on the floor.
It's a huge blessing to spend time with your also-not-stressed husband. It's like, DUDE, we are SO MUCH MORE FUN RIGHT NOW! And look! We stayed up past midnight two days in a ROW! WE ARE AWESOME!
But then that time is gone and back to the reality of long days, never-ending lists and "crap we forgot LUNCHMEAT" as we drive away from the store and back home to put away Christmas decorations.
It's like, hey, yeah, I have a lot to be thankful for and I know I'll get adjusted and probably won't keep my resolutions and everything will be fine but for now I just can't help but think:
Um, 2012? I like you but you're crazy.
But you made it to today and things are better (read: two cups of coffee and four chocolates. WHAT?!).
It's glorious to take a break from "real life" and recharge and give yourself permission to do nothing in all sorts of ways. It's a treat to get enough sleep and not have pinched shoulders or even an eye twitch.
It's awesome to see all sorts of your favorite people and all be in the same physical space for more than five minutes. And to just laugh the crazy Liz Lemon laugh when you do things such as drop the peanut butter jar on the floor.
It's a huge blessing to spend time with your also-not-stressed husband. It's like, DUDE, we are SO MUCH MORE FUN RIGHT NOW! And look! We stayed up past midnight two days in a ROW! WE ARE AWESOME!
But then that time is gone and back to the reality of long days, never-ending lists and "crap we forgot LUNCHMEAT" as we drive away from the store and back home to put away Christmas decorations.
It's like, hey, yeah, I have a lot to be thankful for and I know I'll get adjusted and probably won't keep my resolutions and everything will be fine but for now I just can't help but think:
Um, 2012? I like you but you're crazy.
12.22.2011
Still, still, still.
I started to post a few days ago about Christmas--about why I love it, about my traditions, about what I've learned in the last year or two about celebrating.
It wasn't quite working out. I almost gave up. But then I went back and looked closely.
I found that all I really wanted to do was tell you about my Grandma. Forget that other stuff.
It is probably too soon for me to write about this and it won't be tidy. It may not even make sense.
But I'm going to do it anyway.
I hope you don't mind.
* * * * *
Christmas was my grandma's favorite holiday and she celebrated it so well, she made it mine, too.
As a child, I remember waking up Christmas Eve, frosting Mom's sugar cookies then counting down the hours, the minutes, the seconds until Grandma's house. We'd eat lots of food (she always made too much) and then we'd open gifts.
If you watch one of our many home videos from such occasions, you will observe a sort of organized chaos.
Grandma always made the oldest grandkids pass out gifts, (which, as second-oldest, I secretly loved), so there are shouts of "Marie! Marie! This one's for you. This ONE'S FOR YOU!!!" and loud, inquisitive, slightly-panicked "Grandma! Grandma! What does this say?!" and impatient thrusting of gifts to aunts and uncles "Give this to Uncle Gene. UNCLE GENE."
Then we'd settle in with our packages and let 'er rip. In a cloud of tissue paper and paper boxes (which were to be carefully unwrapped and used again next year), you really can hear the squeals of excitement.
I know it sounds like we were spoiled--and we were--but none of our gifts were really that extravagant. We got the usual fare of skirts, sweatshirts, trucks and dolls.
But they were all for us, from Grandma (and Grandpa...but we all knew he spent shopping trips sipping coffee in the food court), and somehow that fact alone made them special. Even if they weren't the name brand (and they usually weren't).
One December, after a few years had passed, Grandma sat us all down and said, "Now, kids, you're all getting older and just too hard to buy for. There will be no more big gifts. But I have this idea..." and a new tradition was born. The grab bag!
All year, Grandma would stalk the drug store aisles for little items--batteries, socks, games, wallets, even underwear. She'd throw a party for her friends and they'd help her wrap all the gifts ("...and then we'd play chicken-foot," I can hear her say with a chuckle.).
On Christmas Eve, she'd haul out the bins of wrapped, unmarked gifts and each grandkid would take turns digging around, feeling for anything lumpy (underwear), heavy (flashlight), or jingly (change taped to a pack of gum). Then we'd open one...and then another...and at the end we'd barter our loot.
It was silly. It was the sort of thing that at face value may sound weird. But it quickly became a much-anticipated tradition. Who would open the underwear this year? Who would walk away with the most $2 bills? Who would trade a pack of cards for a scarf?
She loved it. We loved it. We loved her. She somehow managed to keep the excitement and anticipation alive in a bunch of teenagers. What a feat!
I have found myself thinking about her a lot this season--especially when passing those ridiculous singing toys that move and shake while blaring a warbly version of 'Jingle Bells'. She loved those things.
I've been thinking about her and tradition and loss and celebration. And how to celebrate in the midst of loss and how to hold on to tradition despite change in time and circumstance.
About how to rejoice in a time of "great joy" when you feel like crap. About how to find hope when things seem hard and big and ugly and a bit scarier then you'd like to admit.
I've been thinking about all of these things because Grandma isn't here to celebrate Christmas at all anymore...so now what?
I was driving home the other day and heard this song (last track) and I guess for me--for reasons I can't quite articulate, can't really even understand--this year especially, it is Christmas.
I can't tell you that next year your troubles will be miles away. I won't ask you to rock around a Christmas tree. I don't expect you to belt out joy to the world, especially if this is one of those hurting years.
Yet--
Still, still, still...
--despite the big things, the scary things, the disappointment, hurt, bitterness, anger, hardship, struggle, strife--
...one can hear the falling snow.
And together, broken, perhaps knocked down even, but not destroyed, we
...dream, dream, dream of the Joyous day to come.
Merry Christmas, friends.
It wasn't quite working out. I almost gave up. But then I went back and looked closely.
I found that all I really wanted to do was tell you about my Grandma. Forget that other stuff.
It is probably too soon for me to write about this and it won't be tidy. It may not even make sense.
But I'm going to do it anyway.
I hope you don't mind.
* * * * *
Christmas was my grandma's favorite holiday and she celebrated it so well, she made it mine, too.
As a child, I remember waking up Christmas Eve, frosting Mom's sugar cookies then counting down the hours, the minutes, the seconds until Grandma's house. We'd eat lots of food (she always made too much) and then we'd open gifts.
If you watch one of our many home videos from such occasions, you will observe a sort of organized chaos.
Grandma always made the oldest grandkids pass out gifts, (which, as second-oldest, I secretly loved), so there are shouts of "Marie! Marie! This one's for you. This ONE'S FOR YOU!!!" and loud, inquisitive, slightly-panicked "Grandma! Grandma! What does this say?!" and impatient thrusting of gifts to aunts and uncles "Give this to Uncle Gene. UNCLE GENE."
Then we'd settle in with our packages and let 'er rip. In a cloud of tissue paper and paper boxes (which were to be carefully unwrapped and used again next year), you really can hear the squeals of excitement.
I know it sounds like we were spoiled--and we were--but none of our gifts were really that extravagant. We got the usual fare of skirts, sweatshirts, trucks and dolls.
But they were all for us, from Grandma (and Grandpa...but we all knew he spent shopping trips sipping coffee in the food court), and somehow that fact alone made them special. Even if they weren't the name brand (and they usually weren't).
One December, after a few years had passed, Grandma sat us all down and said, "Now, kids, you're all getting older and just too hard to buy for. There will be no more big gifts. But I have this idea..." and a new tradition was born. The grab bag!
All year, Grandma would stalk the drug store aisles for little items--batteries, socks, games, wallets, even underwear. She'd throw a party for her friends and they'd help her wrap all the gifts ("...and then we'd play chicken-foot," I can hear her say with a chuckle.).
On Christmas Eve, she'd haul out the bins of wrapped, unmarked gifts and each grandkid would take turns digging around, feeling for anything lumpy (underwear), heavy (flashlight), or jingly (change taped to a pack of gum). Then we'd open one...and then another...and at the end we'd barter our loot.
It was silly. It was the sort of thing that at face value may sound weird. But it quickly became a much-anticipated tradition. Who would open the underwear this year? Who would walk away with the most $2 bills? Who would trade a pack of cards for a scarf?
She loved it. We loved it. We loved her. She somehow managed to keep the excitement and anticipation alive in a bunch of teenagers. What a feat!
I have found myself thinking about her a lot this season--especially when passing those ridiculous singing toys that move and shake while blaring a warbly version of 'Jingle Bells'. She loved those things.
I've been thinking about her and tradition and loss and celebration. And how to celebrate in the midst of loss and how to hold on to tradition despite change in time and circumstance.
About how to rejoice in a time of "great joy" when you feel like crap. About how to find hope when things seem hard and big and ugly and a bit scarier then you'd like to admit.
I've been thinking about all of these things because Grandma isn't here to celebrate Christmas at all anymore...so now what?
I was driving home the other day and heard this song (last track) and I guess for me--for reasons I can't quite articulate, can't really even understand--this year especially, it is Christmas.
I can't tell you that next year your troubles will be miles away. I won't ask you to rock around a Christmas tree. I don't expect you to belt out joy to the world, especially if this is one of those hurting years.
Yet--
Still, still, still...
--despite the big things, the scary things, the disappointment, hurt, bitterness, anger, hardship, struggle, strife--
...one can hear the falling snow.
And together, broken, perhaps knocked down even, but not destroyed, we
...dream, dream, dream of the Joyous day to come.
Merry Christmas, friends.
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