She Shares Truth: Jonah 3 & 4

Wow.  So many thoughts.  The part of this section that I keep returning to is Jonah 3:10-4:4.  I think I'll just write it out here, because it really isn't that long, and it always does me good to "interact," so to speak, with what I'm reading.

10. When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed His mind about the calamity that He had said He would bring upon them; and He did not do it.
1. But this was very displeasing to Jonah, and he became angry.  2. He prayed to the Lord and said, "O Lord!  Is not this what I said while I was still in my own country?  That is why I fled to Tarshish at the beginning; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing.  3. And now, O Lord, please take my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live."  4. And the Lord said "Is it right for you to be angry?"

Wow.  Again wow.  Jonah is basically reproaching the Lord for being "gracious ... merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love."

Uh, what?

Jonah, in case you've already forgotten, the grace, mercy and steadfast love of God are the only reason you are alive right now.

Bu no, in fact, Jonah doesn't even want to be alive at this point.

This phrase - "Our God is a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love" - is one I heard many times, growing up, from my parents and my church.  I had no idea it was originally spoken out of deep disappointment and anger.

It is very hard for me to relate to Jonah at this point in the story.  Or rather it always was, until I read this. Whew.  So true, and now I can totally relate to Jonah.

I'm this childish way too often.  How many times have I acted like I knew better than the Lord about what He "should have done" in a particular situation?

More than I would like to admit, I'm sure.

It's so easy for us to think of God as our own personal God, concerned with our own personal affairs, ready to do what we want Him to do.  Now don't get me wrong.  God is intimately concerned with our own personal affairs, but He is far far far from being at our beck and command.  The thing that is so difficult for us to understand and wrap our heads around is that our God is equally intimately concerned with the personal affairs of our friends, our co-workers, our teachers, our students, our neighbors, even our enemies!

This kind of one-sided thinking and misunderstanding is what caused most of Israel to miss the fact that Jesus, the redeemer, was in their midst.  They were busy looking for the Messiah who would come and rescue them from Roman rule, and couldn't see that the true Messiah was so much bigger and loved the Romans just as much as He loved them.

He loves His entire creation impartially, because He looks at our hearts, rather than our actions.  He knew that Jonah's heart was just as wicked as those in Nineveh.  And yet He loved Jonah and chose to use him to fulfill His purposes.

This post was written as part of the "She Shares Truth" experiment over at shereadstruth.com

Small Town Saturday: Volkswagen Edition

My mom grew up in a family that always drove at least one Volkswagen, so she has a special place in her heart for them, and they figure in almost every story she tells us of her youth and college years.

Maybe as a result of that, or maybe just as a result of the fact that they are ridiculously cute little cars, I wanted one so bad when I first had the opportunity to buy my own car.  Well, one thing led to another, and I wound up not driving a Volkswagen.  But I'm not mad about it, and I am still absolutely in love with the little car that practically fell into my lap.

And now Baby Sister is barking up the same tree I did, and we'll just have to see where it gets her...


Mom tells us the smaller the tail-lights, the older the Volkswagen.  This one was from the late '50s.

Needless to say, when Mom, Grandma, Baby, and I got the chance to check out the local Volkswagen festival, we were all pretty happy about it.  Mom reminisced about "Things," "Rabbits," "Doon-buggies," and "Bugs," and Grandma reminisced about the Volkswagen van she and Grandpa used to drive, where they just threw a play-pen in back for the kids while they were going on long road-trips.



We all enjoyed the vans most, I think.  They all had such personality!  Most of them were out-fitted like campers, some with themes (Peace signs & Tie-dye, Coca-Cola, Flower Power, and Jamaica, to name a few), but the one I liked best was this little Country Chic one.  Seriously, I could probably live in it and be happy.



In fact, there were some folks who looked kind of like they did just that - lived in their VWs, and travelled all over to these shows.  Several people brought their pets, and, evidenced by this dog snoozing away, this wasn't much out of the ordinary for them.



What a life!

I'm pretty sure that my little town has more "festivals" than anywhere else.  Some are big, and others are not so big.  This was a small one, but there were people from far and wide (Even as far a Nevada!), because it was tailored to such a specific demographic.  There were lots of fancy restored cars, as well as people doing a booming business in selling parts for Volkswagens of all descriptions.





This is the interior of the purple one Baby was posing with earlier.  It looks brand new, right?  Somebody definitely treasures that car.  Also, can we talk about this completely uncluttered dash?  I was sort of in awe of it.

There was even a short row of Porsches.


Were they a Volkswagen product at some point?  I was really confused as to why they were there...

Basically, there was every type of VW you can imagine.  It was lots of fun.



Stay tuned for the Kite Festival next week!

Yep.  I'm serious.

Small Town Saturday: Farmers' Market Edition

This weekend was crazy.  I had no idea, when I moved back home, that I would have so many plans pop up!  On Friday night, I went to an event on campus, called Pen and Pigment.  It's a wonderful collaboration between the Creative Writing department (a division of Liberal Arts) and the Art department (a division of Fine Arts).  I had the privilege of participating in this event twice during my time at SFA, and loved it both times, so, of course when I heard that it was happening this Friday, I wanted to go.

Well, then a good friend decided to come through, and wanted to have dinner on Friday night, then another friend invited me to Movie Night at her house to watch Frozen (ummmm, YES), then my college basketball team became the Cinderella team of the NCAA championships and had their second round game on that very night...

Yeah, I had to sort of laugh at myself, as I dressed up and went to an art event, while everyone else on campus was going crazy in the Student Center, where the game was being shown on every screen...

Somehow, though, I managed to fit everything into the night including watching our crazy over-time win and screaming with the best of them about it.

And then I fell into bed at something like 1:30 am, with plans to get up for the Farmers' Market at 9 am...

I waffled significantly the next morning about whether or not I should go, but I did, and, boy am I glad I did.  There is nothing like a small town on a Spring Saturday morning.


Be aware, I'm testing out larger pictures to see if they'll fit in my template, so things my be a bit wonky for a little while...

You guys, It's been so long since I picked up my camera, I'm afraid I may be losing my touch!  My two favorite pictures from the farmers' market were blurry, and I wasn't particularly impressed with the ones that were focused either.







I guess this means I'd better pick up my camera more often.

I ended up getting to the market toward the end of the time that it was open, so most of the booths were closing down by the time I got there, but there was still quite a bit of fun stuff to check out.  We got to chat with a local peach farmer, and he told us this year was shaping up to be a bumper crop because of the crazy long winter, and there was a man selling home-made cheese.



Also, someone was selling Kale.  I've never actually used fresh Kale in anything, so I had no idea it was such a lovely little plant.  I love the contrast of the yellow against the green.



Also, did I mention this was the "Spring Fling", so there were added attractions, like american flag themed pony rides...





My favorite part about living in a small town?  Views like this, even in the middle of town (literally two blocks from Downtown...)



Then, as we were leaving the Farmers' Market, we realized the Volkswagen festival was happening just down the road.

Nope.  You can't make this stuff up...

Photos from that event coming soon.

She Shares Truth: Jonah 1&2

Hello friends,  first of all, let me apologize for falling off the face of the earth, but when you move, and get a new job, and your best childhood friend gets engaged all at the same time, suddenly people and life become a little more important than the internet.

But, I'm back now, and hoping to continue somewhat consistent posting on here.  We shall see what happens.  As a kick-start, I'm bringing in a new Friday tradition.  (I've enjoyed High Five for Friday, and it may return, but for the meantime, I'm thrilled about this new link-up!)

Back in January, I joined a fantastic online community called She Reads Truth.  I cannot begin to tell you what a blessing this little space has been in my life - it is so loving and uplifting!  About two weeks ago (conveniently coinciding with the new job, my aunt's wedding, and the afore-mentioned engagement and ensuing dress-shopping/planning flurry), She Reads Truth started a new thing called She Shares Truth.  Basically, every Monday, we are assigned certain scripture to reflect on over the week, and write about on Friday.

Friends, I'm a writer.  Can you imagine my joy at hearing about this new plan?  Honestly, I hope it stays forever.  Obviously, I've already missed out on two weeks worth of writing, but that doesn't dampen my excitement about it by any means.  I'm thrilled to be able to join in today!

Currently, we're reading (and sharing) about Jonah.  Yep. you heard that right.
I'm sure I've read through Jonah in my adulthood, but I've certainly never paid attention to it as an adult.  I mean, really, it's a story about a man who gets swallowed by a fish and then regurgitated three days later.  Good material for Sunday School, and keeping the kids' attention, but not really that important for my spiritual journey now... Or so I thought

Our study basically started out with this sentence: "It's not about the fish."
So true.
It is not about the fish.  Did you know there are only three verses in Jonah that even talk about "the fish"?  This is actually a story about a man who thought he could out-smart God, and had to learn his lesson multiple times. (One of those times just happened to involve a fish swallowing him - minor details, really.)
Sound familiar?  Oh yeah.  Only like what I've been doing for years...

The thing that really struck me in my reading through Jonah 1&2 (and which I remember noticing as a child, too) is that the sailors cast lots to find out whose fault it is that they have this giant storm on their hands, and the lot happens to fall on Jonah. Hmmmmmm.

Casting lots was a pretty common form of divination, as well as a way to make a fair selection for any job that nobody (or everybody) wanted to do.  It was not only prevalent in Israel.  This was a widely known practice throughout ancient cultures.  It was similar (in principle, not necessarily in practice) to drawing straws.

Now, in summary, so far, Jonah has made a decision to "get away from the presence of the Lord," and boarded a ship going as far West as he can go.  This sort of makes me wonder if he is at all familiar with Psalm 139:7&8...
Maybe that was after his time.  I'm not entirely sure where Jonah falls chronologically.

So Jonah thinks he's gotten away, then a huge storm comes, and the sailors cast lots, etc.

You guys.  I'm pretty sure that lot-falling-on-Jonah thing was not accidental, or luck, or what-have-you.  God came right down and put that lot exactly where he wanted it.

Yeah, Jonah.  You thought you could get away from ME?  Well, here I am, in the middle of a storm, on a boat which is swaying and tossing on the waves like crazy, totally in control of not only the storm and the boat, but even this lot-casting.

In my Study Bible, there are a lot of C.S. Lewis quotes sprinkled about, and one of them in Jonah (which he wrote regarding Jonah) says this - "We misread much of the Old Testament because we start with the assumption that its sacred character excludes humour."

Honestly, though, the whole situation Jonah got himself into must have been kind of comical to God, don't you think?  I can imagine God shaking his head and chuckling, knowing how this is going to turn out, thinking "Really, Jonah?  You're really going to make me throw you into a fish before you learn that you can't get away, because I am everywhere, not just in Israel?"

It's comical to me, until I start realizing how many times God has probably had that same inner dialogue about me and my stubborn will.  I can assure you that it's been more times than appear in the book of Jonah.  I am so grateful, though that, no matter what sort of predicament I will myself into, He is still in control and will provide a way out for me, even if I seem to be drowned in a storm at sea.

Reviving a Lost Art

I've always been a letter-writer.  Really, I've just always been a writer, and letters were one of many ways that the writer inside of me chose to manifest herself.

Of course, some seasons of life lend themselves to letter writing, and some don't.  Lately, I've been a terrible correspondent.  Every time I receive a letter or card, I file it away to respond to it.  All the cards I need to respond to are in plain sight, but, unfortunately they've just been piling up lately.  Finally, in the midst of my move, I decided enough was enough, and these dear friends were all valuable enough to me to warrant a good size slice of an afternoon spent writing to them.

Turns out there are more than just one afternoon's worth of folks to write.  But, you know what?  I'm not sad about that.

There was something so lovely about sitting in a patch of sun in the living room, surrounded by the tools of my trade (paper and pen, of course), with a big mug of tea on the table next to me.


I don't know exactly what is happening to me, but this Longhorn mug is seriously my favorite right now...

I frequently ask for stationery as a Christmas or Birthday gift.  Through that habit, I've built up quite the collection.  I love being able to always choose just exactly the paper I think a friend would like, and writing them a letter on it.



When I was in high school, I went to a little leadership seminar thing, and met a friend who was just as excited about writing letters as I was.  We exchanged addresses, and the first letter he wrote me was addressed to Queen Esther.  By then, that was such an old joke, so I addressed his to the Prime Minister.  We spent a few years shooting letters back and forth to people like the Dali Lhama, etc.

When I was about 16, some dear friends moved to Indiana, and we wrote letters back and forth addressed to Jane Austen and Shakespeare characters.

Sometimes I wonder why we lose that sort of frivolity when we become adults.  Why don't I ever send a letter to Colonel Brandon or the Overseer of the Board of Regents?



Why shouldn't we have a little foolishness in our lives?  I mean, really.  I have a Nancy Drew themed address book, for goodness' sake.  Yes, the cover is the cover of Nancy's Mysterious Letter, which also happens to be my favorite Nancy Drew book...

I guess the point of all this rambling is that I miss writing to people, and I hadn't even realized I missed it until I started again.

The season of life that I'm in right now has lent itself very nicely to loving on old friends via the written word (whether that be Facebook messages, emails, or letters) and I am thoroughly enjoying it!



Would you like to be pen pals?  Send me your address, and I'll write you a letter!
I am being totally serious here.

That time I went to New York and back in 10 days.

If you follow me on Instagram, this trip is old news (It happened in November).
However, if you follow me on Instagram, you didn't get the whole scoop or all the pictures, so here is (in the words of Paul Harvey) "the rest of the story."

As I've mentioned in the past, my dad did the same thing for all of my growing up years, then changed careers just recently.  I really can't remember a time when I didn't have a pretty solid idea of what he was doing at any given point in a day, even if he was far away.
Our family was always very close, and having a good idea of what Dad was up to at work helped to tighten that bond, I think.

Then he threw us all for a loop, and decided to become a truck driver - an over-the-road truck driver, no less.  That means he could be anywhere in the U.S. at any given time. (Within the first six months or so of his career, he had been in 47 of the 48 Continental United States!)
Not to mention that he was now driving an 18-wheeler, and hauling who knows what (anything from copper wire to New York City's trash - literally).

I hadn't expected this, but it felt downright strange to not know what he was doing day in and day out.

So, of course, when the opportunity arose, I jumped on his truck with him to find out.



Oh, did I mention that I stayed on that truck with him for 10 days?

Do you see the size of that cab, ladies and gentlemen?

Let me just say, I have a hero in disguise as a dad.  That wonderful man slept on a mattress topper (not a mattress - just a topper!) on the floor for 10 nights so I could have the bed, bought me coffee every morning (I'd brought a coffee maker and coffee with me, but it turned out his power converter wouldn't support the amount of amps or something required by my coffee maker), and generally treated me like a princess.

We had a fantastic time, just driving down the road, sometimes talking, sometimes listening to music (his good old southern rock that Mom doesn't really listen to, some folksy stuff, and my Needtobreathe and Coldplay), and sometimes enjoying silence and pointing out interesting things along the road to each other:


"Look, Es" he said, "it's a coffee truck!"
And "Man, those poor horses without the blankets sure must feel discriminated against..."

Dad is a "moderator" on a truck-driving forum for new truckers, or people who are interested in getting into the career, and it just so happened that he had committed to write a "journal" of his time on the road that coincided with our time together.  He really enjoyed having me along as a "photographer" to record various parts of his job that he could share on the forum.  I had fun helping him understand a little more about blogging/getting photos on his blog and the forum.



As a flat-bed driver, as opposed to a dry-van driver, Dad has the responsibility of securing his own loads.  He says this is one of his favorite parts of the job as it keeps him active.  From what I've observed, this love for securement is pretty rare among truck-drivers.  It totally makes sense to me that he would love it, though.  There's a certain satisfaction that comes from doing something yourself and knowing that it's done right.
Every once in a while, I'd help him with securing one of the loads (and, of course, he went back over everything I did to make sure it was correct) and it was pretty cool to know that I'd had a little part in making sure that load stayed on the back of his truck through wind, snow, and high speeds.



Our first stop on this crazy journey was in Vidor, Texas, where we picked up a load of steel coils headed for Cincinnati, Ohio.
(Cincinnati, by the way, is one of the few words that I can NEVER remember how to spell...)

We spent the weekend at a truck stop on the border of Kentucky and Ohio.
That was quite the experience.  A truck stop is like it's own little world.  It was actually much cleaner and pleasanter than I expected it to be.  Our weekend consisted mainly of doing laundry in the truck stop, watching movies in the truck, and taking lots of walks to enjoy the Fall foliage.





When Dad stopped in Cincinnati to unload, I was still asleep.  I woke up and looked out the window to find this charming old brick building with various international flags hung along the roofline and a beautiful Holly full of red berries.



After this stop, we headed across the border into rural Southern Indiana to pick up some sheetrock bound for Syracuse, New York.

While driving through Indiana, we saw lots of these lovely, bare, almost wraith-like, white trees - Sycamores, right, Indiana friends?



On our way to New York, we started seeing a bit of snow.  I was so impressed at the way they know how to maintain roads in the North! (In Texas, or the South in general, I guess, everything would have been closed for even this tiny amount of snow.)



Now, before we go any further, let me acknowledge that these are not really the quality of photos you are used to seeing on this blog, but please keep in mind, I'm taking a lot of these through the windows of a truck moving at approximately 65 MPH...

This particular day was a long, long, long one.  By the end of it, we had dropped off one load, and were picking up the next at about 11 PM.  I was sitting in the truck and feeling very sleepy, and possibly a bit delirious if I'm honest.  I looked out of the windshield and saw this little fork-lift staring right at me:


I may or may not have taken way too much time trying to decide if he was friendly or not...

I was so tired that I decided to sleep in the next morning while Dad got on the road, but he wisely woke me up, knowing I would want to take pictures of the snow-covered houses in this precious little town that we drove through.



Let's just be honest and say that I was FREAKING OUT the entire time I was taking these pictures, because this was The Most Snow I'd Ever Seen.
I know.  I'm a little bit pitiful...

I don't remember the name of this town, but I remember thinking how really it wasn't that much different than being in the South.  That house looks like it could be my next door neighbor's, in fact.

Well, that thought quickly changed when we made a stop in Walmart.

We walked into this New York state Walmart like the normal Southerners that we are, me chattering to Dad about something and him laughing at something funny I said, and slowly it dawned on me that no one, NO ONE, else in this store was talking.
No one smiled back at us as we passed them in the aisles.
Someone looked at me like I might be an alien when I said "excuse me" because I had to walk in between them and the shelf they were perusing.
Everyone just kind of walked around in their own little worlds and totally ignored each other.

You guys.  That was one of the weirdest experiences I've ever had.  Come to think of it, I have a long list of weird experiences in Walmart, and I guess we can just go ahead and add this one to it.  Maybe I should just never go to Walmart again?  It always seems to unnerve me.

I have to admit that I was a little sad we ended up in New York and I didn't even get a chance the see The City.  Honestly, though, I wasn't too sad.
Seeing New York City has never been on my bucket list.
I mean, I always figured if I was ever anywhere near it, I would at least look at it a little bit...
But who am I kidding?  I was more than comforted by those adorable snow-covered houses, and the best peppermint mocha ever (Trust me.  I'm a peppermint mocha connoisseur.) - at a random little chain in a rest stop!

You did good, New York.

That load we picked up in the middle of the night was headed down to Alabama, so I bid the snow goodbye a little sadly, and we headed back the way we'd come - through Cincinnati.  On our way there, we saw the most fantastic sunset graced with an "airplane spaghetti bowl" as Dad said.



I'd kind of wanted to photograph Downtown Cincinnati (it was the only city we drove through - we skirted around all the rest), but it was dark by the time we got there.  I got one semi-good shot, but that was it.



Dad warned me before we got into the city to be prepared for a tunnel.  In other words, he told me I should have my camera ready.  Unfortunately, I was too busy trying to get night skyline pictures to really prepare my camera for the tunnel, so all in all, it wasn't the most rewarding night for the little perfectionistic photographer that hides inside of me...

It was lovely going through that tunnel, though.  Tunnels always make me think of my Pop.  I don't have too many clear, specific memories of him.  I have lots of everyday knowledge, but as far as particular memories outside the norm, I only have a few.  One, though, involves the tunnel that crossed the Ship Channel in Houston before the Fred Hartman Bridge was built.  I think of him every time I go through a tunnel now, because of that one memory.



At our stop in Alabama, I sat in the truck and knitted.  I did, however, take a moment to enjoy the lovely fall foliage that was beginning to appear here in the South.



After that stop, we wound our way home through the Smoky Mountains.
Now, the Smoky Mountains are another thing that I have never had any great desire to see.
I know, I know.  I'm probably crazy.  But, honestly?  Mountains just aren't my thing.  Give me an ocean and a coastline, and I will sit and stare and take it in all day.

I was pleasantly surprised by the Smoky Mountains, though.  They really were "smoky" - sort of veiled in a constant blue haze - and so peaceful.  I did take pictures, but none of them turned out very well (65 MPH, remember?).  So, mostly, I just sat back and enjoyed the scenery.

When I saw these bridges coming up, though, you can bet I whipped out my camera and took as many pictures as I could, hoping I'd get at least one good one.



There's just something I really love about bridges.  I probably wouldn't make any sense if I tried to explain it.






Sometimes there are just things that you love for no good reason.

I have to admit, by the time we got home, I was really grateful to be back in Texas and on solid ground.  A tiny part of me had gone on this adventure thinking how crazy cool it would be if I could team-drive with Dad, so I'd been analyzing whether this would be a good idea or not.

Hey.

I know you're laughing right now, so I'll just give you a minute to laugh.

There.  Are you back with me?  I am being perfectly serious here.  From about the time I was 18, I've had secret thoughts that I might enjoy the truck-driving life - exploring all over the country, and seeing the sights.  However, the fact is, I'm a girly girl, and ten days out on the road was enough to convince me that, no matter how pleasant and clean they are, I don't want to spend any majority of my time taking truck stop showers.  Nor do I want to be always getting my hands dirty doing load securement.
I'll stick with my pencil skirts and phone etiquette, thank you.

Another thing?  It was so hard to drive past these three things and not beg Dad to stop.


Clockwise from left:
1. Poplar Avenue - the road in Memphis that Mom travelled down every year of her childhood to visit her Grandmother
2. Elizabethtown and 61 - Need I say more? (It's one of my favorite movies.)
3. Niagara Falls - I  WAS THAT CLOSE TO NIAGARA FALLS AND DIDN'T GET TO SEE IT!

I cannot imagine all the other things around the U.S. that I would get this close to and just miss.
For a short jaunt, I was fine - quite happy, in fact - but I now know for sure that truck driving is not the life for me.

I have to say, though, it was the best decision to go with Dad and learn more about what he does.  I feel so much more educated now about his daily life, and, just the other day, he was able to call me and tell me that he'd stopped in a spot that I remembered from our trip.  How wonderful is that?!

High Five for Friday #3

This has been quite the week.

1. On Saturday, I made my way home to Nacogdoches for good.  Yep, I moved again.  Is anybody really surprised by this?
I haven't move my furniture yet, but most of the rest of my things were crammed into my poor little car, which kept freaking out about my passenger (which happened to be a big box of kitchen gadgets) was not buckled in. The. Whole. Way. There.

At least I know it won't ever give up reminding people to buckle up?

2. As many of you know, Sunday was the Super Bowl. Being a member of a family with all Ballerina daughters (one of us tried organized sports for a year or two, then decided it wasn't her thing), we don't get particularly excited about watching professional sports on TV.  My dad isn't even into that, although he has been known to watch Tennis for hours on end...

High school football, on the other hand? Yeah, we are Texans after all.

Anyway, once upon a time, many Super Bowls ago, all of us girls (not even knowing what Super Bowl Sunday was, much less that it was that very day) asked Dad to rent Mary Poppins from Blockbuster for us.  Being the wonderful father that he is, he went right up there and got it for us.
The college guy at the counter took one look at the movie in the case and one look at my bearded Scotch-Irish father, and initiated this conversation:

College Guy:  You do know this is Mary Poppins, right?
Dad: Yes.
College Guy:  You do know the Super Bowl is today, right?
Dad: Yes.
College Guy: Blank Stare..........
Dad:  My daughters wanted to watch Mary Poppins.
College Guy (with the best intentions, I'm sure):  Do you want to come over to my house?
Dad:  No.  I want to watch Mary Poppins with my girls.

And thus began one of my favorite family traditions:  Our Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious Party, which just happens to coincide with everyone else's Super Bowl Parties.

3. I found this yesterday and could not stop laughing all day.

4. Last night I went to a house concert of Jason Harrod.  I really wish I'd thought to document this in some way, but I was so enjoying myself that I didn't even pull out my camera.  I realized later that I might should have invited some old Nac friends along, but there was something so wonderful about just sitting in the third row on my own.  It was so lovely to just sit and watch and listen to a truly talented man who actually supports himself through his art.

5.  Also last night, I started the "Oil Cleansing Method" for washing my face.  I won't even post a link here, because if you just google it, you will find lots of results.  I researched it for an embarrassingly long amount of time.  The summary of what I found out is this:
Supposedly (though I don't remember it), in High School Chemistry, we all learned that "like dissolves like," therefore, oil dissolves oil, so you should be able to wash your face clean with oil.  There are some oils you don't want to use, and it sounds like it takes some experimenting to get just the right blend for your skin.

I'm interested to see how this turns out.  Maybe there will be a blog post about it soon?

On another note, I've been missing real pictures around here, and I am happy to report to you that they will be returning very soon!
I'm hoping my successful 8-posts-in-January accomplishment is an indication that this blog will have a little more life in it this coming year.