Variety, the Spice of Life

"Variety's the very spice of life

That gives it all its flavor."

William Cowper  

According to Google's dictionary variety is:
1. The quality or state of being different or diverse; the absence of uniformity, sameness, or monotony.
2. A number or range of things of the same general class that are different or distinct in character or quality.

Friends and friendship have come up in conversations recently, and I hold to the belief that people ought to have a variety of friends, friendships, and relationships. Personally, I enjoy my varied assortment. As I sat at a four hour lunch yesterday catching up with a dear friend and former coworker from my Hallmark days, I smiled at how diverse and different Sandy and I are. Despite the diversity, we are good friends who can spend hours talking, listening, and sharing without realizing how long has passed. It doesn't matter that Sandy is forty years older than I (give or take a few) which puts us in diverse life stages, and it doesn't matter that we hold to different beliefs; in fact, our differences are what add, "the very spice of life."

I'm dumbfounded that so many people would choose to have their life flavored so blandly when they could live a life filled with delicious and varied flavors. Instead of eating the same meal with the same flavors repeatedly, you eat to enjoy. You eat to expand your horizons, your taste-buds, to become a more well-rounded person. You're not afraid to give the varied people a chance because you know that each spice brings a different flavor. Some flavors take time getting accustomed to, others you like right away and become a staple in all of your cooking, others you can take only in small batches, others are precious and are saved for special occasions. Regardless, you're always incorporating and adding a variety of spices. And you're always trying new ones. Add some flavor to your life and have a variety of friends, friendships, and relationships.

One More Week!

One week from today, I will be moving into my apartment in my new city!!!

Excited isn't my emotion; it's more like ecstatic. Charity and I were talking last night about what we wanted to do first in our own apartments. Mine was waking up, and being able to get ready with out carting all of my shower and clothes stuff back and forth from the bathroom, and then getting ready to music. I know it's an odd first thing, but I don't care. You know what, I might have to  change that to closing my bedroom door. After a curtain as my bedroom door for the past ten years, I'm jubilant over a bedroom door.

It's the small things that make the move.

Grieving

I can't but help grieve as I write this as I ponder good byes. My good byes to my Little Sister pale in comparison to those family members and loved ones who didn't get to say their good byes to the three who passed into eternity this afternoon. A young couple and their unborn child lost their lives this afternoon plus another teen. Many more are in the hospital being treated for injuries, some in critical condition.

I can't even begin to imagine what the families are going through. The young couple were 24-25, not much older then I. I was her stand partner when she was in college. We were friends of a sort when I was in orchestra. Now, she has passed into eternity. So young. The couple leaves behind a toddler. My heart breaks for this boy who has been orphaned at such a young age. The parents of the young couple and the teen--oh the suffering and grief!

How quickly, how quickly our lives are. How my heart is grieving and broken over this accident and those who the Lord carried into eternity this afternoon!

Good Byes

I've been busy this past week saying good bye to friends and acquaintances all the while hoping that today wouldn't come, and I wouldn't have to face this good bye. I didn't want to say good bye to her; I knew it was going to be the hardest of them all. 

My Little Sister is only nine-years-old. I forget that. I forget how young she is. She's had to deal and live through junk and crap no nine-year-old ought to deal with which has made her more mature for her age which leads me to forget that she's nine.

I loved our lazy and relaxing day together. We visited the library, made mac & cheese, read, played computer games, went to the park, made stuffed shells for dinner, took pictures, and talked. Real and deep talking doesn't usually happen because of my Little Sister's age, but today, we had some good conversations. 

We talked about good memories, the future, her life, my life, and us. We weren't afraid to admit this good bye was difficult for both of us. Somehow, I managed to keep my tears in until I dropped her off and started my drive home. 

I have to keep reminding myself that, like I told her, this good bye is not forever. We will be in each others life, I pray and hope, for the rest of our lives.   

 

Preparation

The worst part is the guilt. I know I ought to spend the majority of my time preparing for my classroom.

The second to worst part are the options. There's so much to do for my classroom, but I don't even know where to start. So I make excuses and putz around on the computer, compiling helpful information without actually formalizing anything. And I make lots of excuses:

I don't know what my classroom will look like, so I don't know how to prepare. I can't organize or arrange it without the visual. I can't prepare bulletin boards without knowing if I have bulletin board space. I can't look over curriculum because I'm not sure if I'll be starting with 4th or 5th grade. (Though, I have read through those two portions in Common Core.) I can't level my books because all of my books are in boxes. I can't buy organizational and decorational items for my classroom because I don't have extra money.

Excuses aside, I honestly think there isn't much I can do right now. Come August 6, my excuses will run out. I made an appointment with my principal to have a building tour of CI, receive my keys for school, and ask him any questions. I will, also, meet the two other new teachers at CI that day. Then I'll be in a frenzy preparing, planning, organizing, settling in. I'm so happy I'll have the keys, so I can use those weeks to be in my classroom and at school getting ready.

Excitement, worry, joy, and terrified are just the tip of the iceberg. Then guilt gets added on because I'm not doing enough to best prepare myself for this school year which I know will be absolutely crazy. I need something to do until August 6. Hmmm . . . Oh, I can make lists. I'm great at making lists. Now that I have a plan, I'll start making my lists. Not sure what the lists will be about, but I promise I'll be making lists which will aid my classroom preparation.

Writing

I think about words. I think about how to put them together, how to phrase certain sentences. It's funny because when I'm talking to myself the words flow smoothly and articulately. Then I sit down to put those thoughts to paper (or screen), and my mind goes blank. When my thoughts finally return, they come together flat and stale. Words are powerful yet I can't seem to string them together coherently to accurately project and portray the thoughts I've been pondering.

The joys of writing.

Even though writing is excruciatingly difficult, I couldn't live without it. It's my life-line. It's cathartic. It's my thinking outlet. I come to my journal, my scrap of paper, my Jane-a-Day journal, or my blog; and as I write out all my thoughts, feelings, and conversations, I process, filter, think, and make decisions. I need all those various writing outlets, and each outlet has it's own unique purpose.

My journal documents those close, personal, and private thoughts which I do not need to share with the world, but those thoughts which I must think through. Journal entries, after much refining and continued thinking, may become blog posts. My scraps of paper records the thoughts which pop into my head and must be written down immediately before they fly out of my mind.

My Jane-a-Day journal is a 5-year journal which I started in January. Every day has a quote from of Jane Austen's books, and I write a short reply to the quote--what it make me thinks of, how I react to it, if I connect to anything, agreement or disagreement of her statement--or sometimes I just write a short recap of my day. My blog preserves pieces of writings and memories which I deem fit to share with the public while I can still, currently, be anonymous.*

I love preserving the thoughts, feelings, emotions, memories, and many happenings which my memory won't always be able to recall down the road. I love reading through my journal and blog entries, my random scraps of papers, and my Jane-a-Day journal to see what I wrote, how I reacted to a situation, my thinking process for a decision, and how I've grown and changed.

One of the great things about friends is when they in ordinary conversation, reveal to you a part of who you are but have never realized how you were defined by that part or how important it is. I showed Jessica a couple of quotes from my Jane journal, and this one was across the page:

I am not at all in a humor for writing; I must write on till I am. 

Personal Correspondence 

My comment was this, "I don't understand this statement because I'm not a writer. I've heard that sentiment voiced by other authors but have never experienced it myself."

Jessica read the quote and statement, looked at me, and made a comment that she wasn't sure why I would say that since I am a writer. No one had ever told me that before. Being me, Jessica's statement wouldn't leave my head, and I've now been pondering the thought for the past seven months that I am a writer. (Another aspect of myself that I hadn't been honest about to myself about myself, read here for my initial post on being honest to myself about myself). My conclusion: I'm a writer, and writing is vital for my survival and sanity. And I like it that way.

*There are days when I wished my blog would have more followers, but I'm not ready for that yet. I really do enjoy my anonymity and small following. 

My Last Saturday

Today has been in my thoughts for years and years. Every Saturday morning when I didn't want to get up early and start another incredibly long day, I would remind myself that one day it would be my last. My last Saturday.

After a fun and talking-filled Friday evening with an amazing group of people from my church, I finally fell into my bed around 11:15 knowing I would be up in a few short hours for my final Saturday morning 6:00 shift. The late night was made better with the thought that this would be my last Saturday shift.

I've worked every Saturday for the past five years of my life. Granted there was an occasional (and I stress the occasional) Saturday I would ask or have off if I was away on a trip or something special and specific was going on. But most of the time, I would work and then attend something else--concerts, parties, study groups, family outings, friend time, Little Sister meetings, visits to Joanna's, and the list goes on and on. I counted one summer--of the twelve Saturday's that summer break, I worked ten of them, and the other two, I spent in Florida on a church trip. During the school year, there might be one Saturday a semester I didn't work depending on concerts, tours, and tests.

I would guess that at least once a Saturday in the past five years while interacting with my customers, I wondered what it must be like to not work a job over the weekend. Now, I'll be able to live on the other side, not working weekends (even though I do realize teachers probably wouldn't survive if they didn't have time over their weekends to work and prep for school ).

It was a good Saturday shift today. Busy enough for the hours to go by quickly but not crazy enough that I was on edge always dealing with frustrated customers who had been waiting ages to finish their grocery shopping. Like the majority of the other Saturdays over the past five years, I came home and was off to something else. Today was, first, a wedding and then Little Sister time. All of which has left me, like normal, positively exhausted and unable to write anymore on this momentous day. So I'll bid you adieu for the evening.  

Salsa Blues

I adore chips and salsa; I could consume them very regularly. But my love has been suffering because of a lack of a good salsa--I've been having some salsa blues. Don't try to tell me that store bought salsa is good--it isn't and it never will be.

I started hunting around and quickly happened upon this recipe, and as soon as was feasible (tonight), I whipped up a batch.

It was delicious. Fresh, with a little kick, a hint of cilantro and lime but neither not overpowering. I pulsed mine, like suggested, until it was a smoother salsa. It tasted delicious, and it smelled fantastic. The only negative--it was a little watery. We, RuthAnn and I, think it was because the cilantro was awfully watery.

I highly recommend trying this if you too need to be lifted from the salsa blues.

My next experiment is to find a salsa which is delicious and which I can can. (Sorry, my brain can't think of another way to word the sentence).

4th of July

It's not that I'm unpatriotic; it's just that I'm not a huge celebration person. Plus, I grew up in a family where celebrations weren't huge and large. It may have been because money was always tight as it was, but we never had big celebrations. Celebrations were always low-key events with just the family.

This 4th followed the same format. I spent the morning and afternoon working at The Grocery Store. Which, by the way, was my last holiday to work. [Gleeful jumping up and down may now commence.] This 4th was much better than last 4th. After P and I finished work (his last shift at The Grocery Store for a good while), we, plus R, headed up to J's for dinner with the parents and some relaxation.

That was it--no fireworks, no parades, no cookouts (we ate spaghetti), no big celebrations. Just low-key family time, talking, eating, watching movies, and sleeping.  

Moving

I'm moving in thirty or so days, and that fact is starting to set in. Moving boxes are sitting in my room waiting to be filled and reminding me every time I look up that I ought to start packing up my books. Being me, I've been thinking about the specific reasons I'm looking forward to having my own place.

1. Buying house stuff. Buying kitchen wear, decorating and making my place homey and cozy, putting my stamp on it. Pots, pans, blankets, lamps, side tables, tables, and chairs--I get excitement shivers just thinking about it. But I've never let myself think about how I would like to set-up and decorate my home like, until now. So, in all honesty, I've spent a fair amount of hours on Pinterest looking at and pinning styles I like.

2. Space for my books. Now this aspect I've dreamed about for years and years. I've always wanted a whole room dedicated to my books where they wouldn't be cramped, and I wouldn't be as cramped with them around me. I can't wait to set them all up in alphabetical order on my own bookcases in my own apartment. I will miss staring at them when I wake up in the morning and being surrounded by them all the time, but I'm ready for this upgrade!

3. Cooking. Everyone I've talked to has said that cooking for one person is no fun, but I'm intrigued and thrilled about buying, preparing, and cooking my own meals. I'm ready to eat what I want to eat and try lots of different foods, and find ways to save money. I've been researching and thinking about how to prepare meals for one. As I've always cooked for four or more people, it will be a struggled I suppose.

So far, those are the three specific aspects I'm looking forward to about having my own place. Maybe, I'll come up with some more later.