let time linger

In the last ten years of my life, I can say there have been possibly three times that I have been fully content. It doesn't happen to me often. I know this is a flaw; I am aware.

I have always been impatient; I have always sought instant gratification. I have always been counting down days for something - something better, something more fun, something that was not what I was doing right then, something different. The last decade of my life has been an experience of impatiently pushing for the next best thing, a better time in life, a stronger feeling of contentment and peace. I have spent 10 years yearning for time to pass quickly, wishing to just get through this part and on to the next phase, which surely must be the life that I have been wanting. Or, at the very least, just get through life in general; just get to the end.

But something in me has shifted this last year. I feel a peace and contentment with where I am in my life and what I am doing with my life, which is a new neighborhood for me. And now I am suddenly aware of my life moving forward at a pace that I am not quite comfortable with anymore. I have gone from counting down days and wishing time to move more quickly to holding on to days and savoring the time spent looking forward to something important. I have moments of brief panic when I think about how my life is moving so very quickly. I just know I am going to wake up tomorrow and be 80! Maybe it's the weddings and babies and graduations and relocations and gaining and losing and change, change, change. It all feels like too much at times.

I am feeling the need to be intentional, to savor this time, enjoy this time. I want to work at actually living each day of the next ten years (maybe just a good percentage of days would be more realistic). I want to remember, and I want it to be worth remembering. I need time to linger just a little while longer.

the spider pact

I live in my sister's basement. For the vast majority of the time, this is a grand arrangement. Perhaps it's a bit chilly at times, but that's nothing that a sweatshirt and a space-heater can't remedy. And no, there are no windows, but really, it's Indiana - the sun doesn't shine all that often anyways. And on the plus side, it's private, I have a bathroom of my own, and the niece and nephew think it's super cool to come visit me - usually in 5-10 minute increments, which works out well for everyone since Gage's favorite game is "break Abbey's stuff" when he is down here.

There is one small, little thing that I don't appreciate about the basement, and that would be the creepy arachnids that enjoy a nice cool basement environment too. I don't see them too often; well, honestly, I try not to look for them because there's a pretty darn good chance that I would actually find one. Unnecessary. However, on occasion they invite themselves into my shower, try to skitter across my bedroom floor unnoticed, or even have the audacity to slink down their nasty little webby strings right in front of me. None of these actions are permitted in my basement. I have made a pact with the spiders. It's a little cooperative; they agreed to the pact as well, so I'm pretty sure it's legit and all.

For example, if the Sammy Spider chooses to stay in the corner of the ceiling or nestled up close to the baseboard, he has every right to remain untouched and confident that he will live another day to spin another web. Sammy can even roam about freely as long as he stays clear of certain areas, namely, my line of vision. If he so chooses to enter into the area deemed as "human only - spiders enter at your own risk," the peace pact is instantly rendered null and void. So, if Sammy decides to visit me in the shower, he must be squashed. If Sammy wants to make his presence known and crawl down the wall while I am standing right there, Sammy must have a death wish, and so be it. I have no issue with getting my spider squash on. Plus, I happen to believe there is a serious upside to spider squashing ---

When you smoosh a spider, the spider dies, obviously. Dead spiders leave what I have coined a "squashed spider scent" that all other spiders can sense. They are very scensty creatures and all. "Squashed spider scent" remains in the location where the spider was murdered (he should have followed the rules; the rules are very simple) and serves as a warning to other spiders that if they choose to roam in that region, death is eminent. It's like being a martyr, only they are spider martyr, and they really didn't even need to be a martyr in the first place if they had just stayed put in the corner. On the upside, I think it's quite noble, warning your spider friends through your death scent and all. Ah yes, the noble basement spider, indeed.

dating 101: there's never an appropriate time to say that

So last year I went out with this guy a few times. We had "the great date." For all of you non-daters out there - this is the ever elusive date. The kind of date that lasts for at least 6 hours but it feels like you just walked out your front door. The kind where the awkward silences are slim to none and the witty banter and casual flirting are abundant and well placed to create "that feeling." For girls, I think we may get this feeling about once every 3 or 4 years; boys seems to experience this every time they turn a corner...or blink. But, if you are like me, and I know lots of chickies out there that are...it's a rare and beautiful thing to get excited about a boy.

Anyhoo. We went out a few times. Things were going well. And then things kind of blew apart in a rather quick and dirty fashion that is not uncommon in my life. You get over it. However, that is not what this lesson is about.

Let me set the scene for you. We are watching tv at his place. There has been fun and flirting all night. We start to do a little kissing. And this is what comes out of his mouth...
"Ya know, if you got a dvd or something you could really flatten out your abs."

So I slapped him. Well, I wish I had slapped him. I am about 99.99% sure that a statement like that deserves a hearty, well-placed, open-handed slap right across a boy's kisser. But, I think I was in shock. So, I didn't really say much of anything. (I know! Such a waste of an opportunity to let the jack*ss really have it. sigh.) And then I got to thinking of a time when a statement such as that would be considered appropriate. Here's the one and only scenario that I came up with

If we had been together for many many many years...
and we were at the gym...
and I specifically asked...
and really meant it...
then it would be appropriate; then and only then. No exceptions on this one. Not even a hint of one. I'm sorry; you're dumb. And I'm fabulous.

blessings....I'm counting 'em

I realize that counting one's blessings is usually reserved for the Thanksgiving holiday of which we just celebrated. However, I am a little bit of a rebel and don't like to do things just because I am "supposed to." (want to add an "amen" in there, mom?) I am thankful for a lot of things, but I will express it in my own time, thank you very much, and not because the calendar is making me. So, I thought that since the holiday of thanks has safely passed, I would take a page out of my friend's blogging repertoire and make a list.

I am full of thanks for...

1. a rockin' brother-in-law and sister that let me live with them for free just because they can. this still amazes me. especially since they thought it was only going to be about 2.5 years that has since bloated into a minimum of 3.5 to possibly 5 years. and they still haven't mentioned kicking me out or kicking me over to mom and dad's.

2. a job that allows me to change my hours every other month, work nights/evenings/weekends or whatever combination that I need to in order to fit everything in; gives me scholarship money every semester; provides affordable insurance; and even gives me vacation time (which takes forever and a day to build up....but my sister reminds me that I should be grateful that I get any vacation time at all since I work part-time. humph.).

3. classmates that I have come to thoroughly enjoy and appreciate. (and I was pretty sure that I was going to have to kill most of them before we ever got close to graduating.) thank goodness most of them think my cynicism is witty.

4. a niece and nephew that I get to see almost every day. (ok....sometimes I don't think this is a blessing when it's play date morning and I am trying to sleep right below a game of "let's-see-how-many-times-in-a-row-we-can-jump-off-the-bed-and-scream-at-each-other-cause-it-will-be-so-much-fun." but, 98% of the time it's kind of an awesome deal. i mean, who can resist two stinkin' adorable kids that cheer and clap and run to meet you nearly every time that you walk up the stairs? yeah, it's that awesome. no aunt could ask for more.

5. new friends and old friends. so, no, I don't have very many friends. I probably wouldn't even need to use my toes to count them all, but I think that's okay. I can keep track of these friends and make time for them and make a friendship that is actually worth something. quality over quantity...and even that takes a lot of effort and work sometimes. so, I am thankful for friends that still want to be a part of my life even when we haven't had a night to hang out since sometime last summer.

6. bad dates. yes, that's what I said. because....even though this kind of blows for me and the relationship side of my life....it provides a good amount of fodder for story telling (see previous posts). and any one that knows me at all, knows that I appreciate a good story, especially if it's mine, and in spite of the fact that it's usually at my own expense. entertainment value is worth a lot in my book. so....I should also be grateful that God gave me a pretty solid sense of humor...

7. going back to school. this has been as much of a curse as a blessing at times. I should have been done and working as of this past May. However, that isn't the way my life works most of the time. so, I will be seeing two more Mays come before that BSN is in my hand. I am okay with that now (took me a while to get here, for sure) because the more I learn and progress in this program, the more I realize that not only am I in the exact profession that I should be in, but I am in the exact program, with fantastic professors, great classmates, and a huge support system. I am precisely where I am supposed to be at this time, and that feels pretty good when I have my "thinking clearly hat" on (it does get lost from time to time though).

there are more, but those are the biggies in my life at the moment. I will get back to posting the usual fare of general wittiness (ha! yeah, I know...) in the near future. I've been busy!!!

dating 101: if you don't let me out, I swear I'll scream

everyone once in a while, okay more like every other month or so, one of my friends or co-workers decides that it's a great plan to set me up with someone. I usually go along with it because 1) it's something to do on friday night 2)it's a usually a free dinner/movie/and sometimes even dessert, and 3) I am always looking for a good story :) (ok, I am a little evil sometimes, but it's just for the entertainment of those around me. kind of like britney spears but with all of my clothes on, no babies, and no marriages...or divorces. ok, so not like britney at all, but whatever.)

so, this time one of the teachers that I used to work with decided to set me up with a buddy of his. I do believe his last name was "pancake." this was unacceptable. abbey pancake? um, no. I think not. but, anyways we met for dinner and began the usual dance.

dinner was awkward. evidently it was intentionally so. he stated afterward that he likes to create awkward situation on purpose "just to see how people respond." and part of me gets this - the whole "shock value" of certain statements I throw out there from time to time (this usually makes my sister laugh and my mom give me that look that says "I raised you better than that, young lady." and she did - I am just ornery like that.). but, really, if you are trying to put your best self out there on a first date...I'm thinking maybe intentionally awkwardizing every conversation isn't the way to go. but, hey, what do I know.

so after the unending awkwardness of dinner, the date was over. we get back to his car to drive the 10 minutes back to his house so I can jump into my car and make my escape. however, he thought this would be a great time - with me being a captive audience and all - to share a special song that was near and dear to his heart. he began to sift through a few burned cds looking for something in particular. and then I realize that this guy has about 25 cds...all burned...all without any markings or indication of what may be on them. awesome. and then the search really got started. he was popping cds in and out of the player like a man possessed. skipping through to the first few notes of every song...skip, skip, skip, skip, eject, insert, skip, skip, nope, that's not it, nope, nope, maybe this one, nope, skip, skip, ugh no, nope...and on and on until...we passed his house and my car. he's still searching for the song that has changed his life and my face is smashed up against the window as my car goes flying past. i thought about making a jump for it, but skid marks are rather unattractive on a girl and I scar easily.

about 20 minutes later....I am not making this up, people....20 minutes...he finally finds the song that will end the night on a perfect note: howie day, collide. seriously? pretty sure we could have found that on the top 40 station in about 4.5 seconds. and then...he starts to quote the song to me as it's playing....

Even the best fall down sometimes (looking into my eyes)
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme (nodding his head in agreement)
Out of the doubt that fills my mind (reaching out for...something)
I somehow find
You and I collide (looking at me...expecting...tears, affirmation, understanding...?)

I was at a loss. again. talk about awkward. is this a song for me? for you? about us? what the heck? and why are you talking the song at me? that's weird. no one does that. stop. stop now. please let me out of your car. you are starting to scare me. i have mace. ok, actually it's pepper spray, but, it's the pepper spray for bears. big, black, angry bears. so, I am pretty sure that it'll sting. and I have a whole can of it, and I am pretty sure I can get ya good since you are sitting like 2 feet away from me.

so, I did eventually get back to my car that night....although it did take about 35 minutes longer than it should have. and I was starting to panic a little.

note to the men out there---if you are going to hold a girl hostage in your car to listen to a "life-changing song," it better be good. howie day does not cut it. please, people.

dating 101: don't order the spicy stuff

ok, so time for another dating lesson, courtesy of abbey. you're welcome. i feel a little bit bad about this post because this guy was really sweet and was trying really hard. but, this is the job, so here goes....

once again: blind date from a certain online site. yet again: we met down town, ironically at the same restaurant as the previous dating 101 lesson (maybe that should have been my first clue). this time i was smart, though -- i brought reinforcements in the form of my good friends amy and curtis (see...progress).

first thing i saw was the cowboy boots. i know, right? (side note: i have nothing against cowboy boots. i come from farm folk. i get it. but, you are in indy. cowboy boots are a no-no. cowboy boots on a first date, with a stranger, in down town indy -- triple no-no. just saying.) but, i let the boots slide (and then made a mental note to change that habit in the future if need be).

so kevin and i and amy and curtis get settled in our oh-so-cozy little booth (awww), and start to look at the menus. it's rather obvious at this point that sweet kevin is very nervous. every movement, every sentence is strained with nerves, and i was starting to feel bad for the guy. i mean, he was starting to sweat a little, that's how stressed this guy was. and being the oh-so-smooth socialite that i am (ha!), i was trying to help sooth his nerves as best i could -- easy conversation, lots of smiles, nodding the head encouragingly, you know the drill. it wasn't working. at all.

and then the food came. and poor sweet kevin had inadvertently ordered something a little spicy. bad plan. very, very bad plan. the little beads of sweat that had started from nerves became huge rolling balls of sweat dripping down his face. the linen napkin did little to help even though he was mopping up like he just finished a marathon. there was no stopping the amount of sweat pouring from his glands. it was amazing. pro athletes don't produce this much sweat during an entire basketball game--including a double overtime. and, i know he was embarrassed (duh), because he even excused himself to go wash his face and start fresh again. i got him a new napkin (cause i'm thoughtful like that). but there was no fixing this flood. before he even planted his boots back under the table, there were great rivers running down his face again. my heart did go out to poor sweet kevin, but i couldn't help but be a little amused by the whole production anyways. i thought a second date would be a great chance for a do-over.

unfortunately (i feel like this is a strong theme in my blogs...unfortunately...), a literal do-over is exactly what i got. i invited him over to amy and curtis's for a very bland, even slightly boring dinner--steak, broccoli, potatoes--no spice in sight, not even pepper, nada spice-o.

perfect.

wrong.

we no sooner finished a short blessing for the spice-less dinner, than the flood gates opened. again. only this time, there was no linen napkin. not good. and poor sweet kevin, as he was furiously mopping up, ended up with little bits of paper napkin all over his face. it's hard to take someone seriously when they have little pieces of paper napkin stuck all over their forehead. i could not stop staring (it was fascinating in a slightly horrible and definitely embarrassing kind of way.). amy and i were trading little furtive looks trying to figure out how exactly to fix this little situation without further humiliating poor sweet kevin. but, he got up to wash his face again (maybe a dinner time ritual? maybe it's cultural. yeah, that's it. culture thing.) and came back little-bits-of-napkin less. and that was the end of me and kevin. and, no, i did not ditch him just because of the sweating thing. i'm not that shallow. at least not all of the time. there were extenuating circumstances which i will touch upon in another dating 101 lesson in the future. (i know you are excited. you should be.)

so, i was wondering as to what the over-sweating situation was caused by. and i came up with a list. (i know you are excited again.)

1. he's allergic to any and all food. this would be a bummer. food is important. especially cheese. (i *heart* cheese)

2. i made him incredibly nervous because i am incredibly hot and amazing and awesome and my mere presence caused something akin to hyperventilation which presented itself through massively hyperactive sweat glands. i have that affect on men all the time. it's my cross. sigh. (i'm pretty sure this is the real reason.)

3. he was too hot. temperature-wise, folks. (pretty sure that's not the case (how dull would that be), but i'm just presenting options here, people. (it's called being thorough.))

4. he had a thyroid problem. (definite possibility) (hey...i'm not making fun. thyroids are serious. i have one, and it doesn't work right either. so, some might even call me an expert on the whole thyroid thing.)

5. he was allergic to me. like i was a long-haired dog or some evil breed of cat (which would be all breeds of cats. just saying.). but, i don't appreciated being likened to a dog, so this one obviously can't be it. please.

personally, i'm sticking with option 2, but feel free to believe what you like. (choose number 2. it's the best one.) and if poor sweet kevin ever reads this, i'm not judging you because you were sweaty or because you wore cowboy boots (even though that was much harder to do). i'm just trying to write a blog here, and possibly help all mankind in the process. kind of like mother teresa. actually, exactly like mother teresa. you're welcome.

milkshakes, hair buns, and karma

so college was rough. i won't really get into the whole nitty gritty of the whole mess, just trust me on this one. and even though i see myself as just barely surviving college and managing to get out with wounds that have since scarred over, there is at least one thing that i found in college that makes the entire experience (at least the first 2.5 years) completely worth the trauma and messes of my own making. her name is caron. and by some miracle direct from God, we have managed to stay friends for the last several years with only a few, brief weekends together scattered throughout. i love this girl.

however...when caron and i are together, we seem to create a magnet for disaster (this is usually a pretty big magnet). luckily, we both have an outstanding sense of humor (thank you very much), so a mess turns into a story (that's what this is) and frustration changes to falling into a heap in the middle of nowhere (ie: cedarville university) and laughing until you think you might pass out from lack of oxygen. it's usually that awesome.

so, it was a week night and we were studying like good little college girls (happy, dad?) and when there was studying, a break inevitably followed, and usually this break required chocolate of some variety. this night was no exception...except (haha)...that we decided a milkshake was in order. and since our college was located in a remote cornfield in the south western part of ohio (no one lives in ohio on purpose...it just kind of happens to you), we had to drive a minimum of 25 minutes to get to the closest milkshake. but chocolate is worth driving that far and then some, so it wasn't really a deterrent at the time. so caron and i hopped in my car and off we went. we had a good couple of hours before curfew -- plenty of time(yes, there was a curfew. yes, it did suck. no, i didn't sneak around curfew--usually. (i swear, mom)).

just for the record -- as we were driving through the back-country-corn-lined-desolate-murder's -best-friend roads of ohio, i told caron that we needed to get gas before we came back. (i told her--therefore, it becomes her responsibility to remind me to put gas in the tank. her job. not my fault. her fault.) betcha can't guess where this is going...

so we get to steak 'n' shake, get our delicious, well-worth -the-25 minute-drive milkshakes, and chill out for a little while. and, it must have been "bun night" there, because everyone and their brother had a bun on their head (not the bread bun, the hair roll bun...tracking now? yeah.) and, being the person that my mother raised me to be (maybe in spite of how my mother raised me...yeah, that's probably closer to reality.), caron and i had to sit there and poke fun of all the people with buns on their heads. it was entertaining. so entertaining, in fact, that we just hopped right back in my car and zipped on our way home so as not to miss curfew (cause we were such good little christian college students and not at all influenced by the $15 fine for being late) without a thought about my nearly empty gas tank. make that my completely empty gas tank.

we must have been running on fumes at that point, because right about the time we made one more turn into the depths of corn and side-road ditches, my gas pedal stopped working. and we were confused. that's how distracted we were about the hair buns. so i turned to caron and said something stupid, like, "hey, my gas pedal isn't working. weird." it took us about 10 seconds of coasting to a stop to realize just how dumb we were (or caron was, because it was her fault. i told her we needed gas.) i think that is what people might call karma. because you shouldn't make fun of people wearing buns in their hair, or even whole groups of people wearing buns and drinking milkshakes all together. it's not nice. and then you run out of gas in the middle of corn hell.

so there we were. crap. and being the strong, independent women that we were, we decided to call a boy for help (never mind that he was cute and i might have been slightly stalking him for the better part of the year). slight problem: we had no idea what road we were on. and finding out what road required actually getting out of the car in the middle of the now-pitch-black-back-country-corn-lined-desolate-murder's -best-friend roads of ohio. we needed a weapon, just in case we stumbled upon one of those corn hell murders, ya know. the logical choice for a weapon was the ice scraper. those bristles were pretty rough, and i was pretty sure i could leave a decent scratch on a murderer. unfortunately for caron, there was only one. so, she got the little scraper that was left over (if you can't remember to tell your friend to put gas in the tank, which is your job, then all you get is a 6 inch piece of plastic to defend yourself against murderers hiding in the corn. sorry. next time, you'll remember your job. (love you, caron!)).

armed with our ice scrapers we started to walk back towards the last turn to find the street sign so that the boy could actually find us and rescue us. we got within about 10 feet of the sign---our saving grace---when the murderer jumped out from behind the barn and ran at break-neck speed straight at us. and by murderer, i mean horse. now, it was really dark and creepy and quiet and scary in the middle of corn fields in the middle of the night, so it's not caron's fault that she dropped her 6 inch piece of plastic, screamed, turned around, and ran down the middle of the road....and then tripped over her own shoe and crumpled to the pavement...about 2 feet from where she started (this is one reason why i love caron. she can fall over anything, anywhere, anytime. (including the bushes outside of history lecture in front of pretty much every freshman college student. picture legs flailing, book bag flying through the air, bushes getting squashed. it was awesome.)).

so...caron was in the middle of the road, in a pile, without her weapon, with a murderer horse staring her down from behind his fence. so i did what any friend would do after her friend had a traumatic brush with a murderer horse--i laughed my ass off (sorry mom!). i laughed so hard that i had to join caron in her pile in the middle of the road. and there we sat for a good 10 minutes before we managed to crawl back to my car.

and then the cop showed up. and being the ever-helpful cop-type person that he was, he asked us if we were okay, nodded his head, and then left. awesome. so glad i pay taxes.

so, we waited for the boy to show up (which took close to a year, i think). and while we waited we sang songs. seriously. (hey, we went to a christian college in the middle of corn hell. entertainment was scarce. we made our own. no alcohol needed.) so we sang and waited and laughed about the hair buns some more (we didn't learn very quickly).

the boy finally showed up with approximately 1.2 gallons of gas and dumped it in the tank. and---the car didn't start. shocking, with that much gas?! really?! (did i mention that we might have shoved my car part way into a ditch in an effort to get it out of the middle of the road? and it might have been slightly nose-down into the ditch? hey--those back-country-corn-lined-desolate-murder's -best-friend roads of ohio can get busy at night, and i didn't want to take any chances *self-deprecating smirk*). so, now we had the boy and the gas, but not enough gas to actually reach the part of the car it needed to in order for the car to start and take us safely away from the murderer horse. bummer.

right about then God must have forgiven us for the hair bun jokes, cause a truck -- a tow truck, complete with two hillbillies and a hill-jack -- stopped and yanked my car out of the ditch and back on the road. and then the 1.2 gallons of gas was just enough to get us back to the closest gas station (back where the milkshakes were; the place where caron didn't do her job and got us into the mess in the first place (love you, caron!)).

and then we drove back to campus...three hours late for curfew (and with another reason to talk to the cute boy that i wasn't really stalking). but, that milkshake was totally worth it. pretty sure i would do it again if i got a milkshake out of it (and maybe a good hair bun joke or two).