Real Quick

Loving the open road. And clean gas stations.

Back to your Friday, everyone.

Labor Day Weekend Eve

Tomorrow's the last workday before I leave for my trip to see my sister, and I can guarantee I'll be generally useless, at least professionally speaking.

Not personally speaking, I mean. I'm going to rock hard at that. After work is over, I mean. Because, after work, I'm gonna be on the open road.

Am I going to Lester's Possum Park? I'll neeeeever tell.

Pleh.

24-hour bugs are the worst, guys. Upside is that I'm feeling much better since coming home at 1:00pm and sleeping for seven hours.

Took a shower (which helped my general achiness considerably), and after indulging on some saltines and ginger ale, I'll sleep through the night and be 100% tomorrow.

So it is written. So it shall be done.

Oh, professional life

Scene: Today at work, when I answer the phone.

Employee: I need my password for herpderp.derp.*

Me: Okay. Let's try clicking that "forgot your password?" link on the login page.

Employee: ...

Me: ...It's on the left-hand side. Go ahead and click on it. It'll ask you for your email address. Go ahead and type your email address. It's herp.derp@herpderp.derp *

Employee: (Repeats the email address back to me 100% incorrectly)

Me: ...

After much correction, we finally get the email address correct, and I effectively guide Employee to click the Submit button.

Employee: I think it sent.

Me: Okay, great! Now, check your company email in a few minutes, and the password reset instructions will be sent to you.

Phone rings. It's Employee again.

Employee: So, I'm looking at this password reset email, and I don't quite know what to do with it.

Me: ...

Me: I'm not sure what you mean. Would you mind reading the email to me so I can help you out?

Employee: "To reset your password, click on the following URL." What's that mean?

Me: ...

Me: There should be a web address that follows that sentence. Do you see it?

Employee: Uh huh.

Me: Click on that, and it will take you to a web page that'll allow you to reset your password.

Employee: It won't let me click on it.

Me: That's okay. If it won't let you click on the text, let's try copying it and pasting it into your web browser.

Employee: I don't know how to do that.

Me: ...Well, maybe I can try to remote into your email account, and--

Employee: My email? I'm not in my email.

Me: You're not?

Employee: No.

Me: But you're reading the email to me.

Employee: Yes.

Me: ...How are you reading me the email if you're not in your email program?

Employee: Oh, I printed it out.

 

This is my life, you guys.


* Proper nouns have been derped to protect my employment.

Don't wanna

Mondays always bring out the "I just don't wanna" in me.

And if I was a kangaroo, my dilemma would look just.like.that. "Enph. I'm done with this blankety-blank ball and this awful floor. Can't we get some tile in here? I'll even take laminate, because this shiz is inexcusable."

Sometimes

All you need is a hug and kiss from your husband after a weekend's absence, the comfort and genuine nature of good friends, and a peaceful cohesion of faith to make a day really worthwhile.

I'm grateful, guys. So grateful.

Caturday

I'd say it's been as good of a Saturday as it can be sans-David: morning Skyped with RachRabbit, last day at the History Center, and then culminated with snacks at Stone Mountain Park with BeckyBadger for the laser show.

Not too shabby.

Here it is

Your Friday moment of zen, brought to you by Pirates of the Caribbean at Disneyland.

I've only been to Walt Disney World, but good heavens, this ride is so much more amazing in California, it would seem.

Devils and black sheep, and really bad eggs!

Tersday

Not really feeling up to blogging extensively this evening, but here I am, making my stamp on the day. Today's one of those days I wish I could just write in a trusty Moleskine. Blogging has only succeeded in doing one thing over the course of the three-fourths-of-a-year, and that's making me feel as though my opinions are being shouted into a hole most of the time. Empty. You know?

I'm fairly tuckered out due to practicing my running -- definitely not where I should be, but I'm getting there. Maybe there'll come a time when I'll enjoy long-distance running, but now's not that time. It's an improvement over where I used to be, though, which was the couch.

So that's progress. Oh, and tomorrow's Friday. Mustn't forget that.

Barbie Dream Home

I didn't want to post anything until we'd at least gotten somewhere with this one, but looks like the this one's got some potential. We've completed many of the steps already to getting this adorable little beauty:

Master Plan for Getting An Adorable Craftsman-Style Home in the Heart of Suwanee:

1. See the house
2. Like the house
3. Make an offer on the house
4. Get the seller to accept our offer
5. Get the seller to sign the contract
6. Obtain bank's approval for short sale
7. Get home inspection
8. Ensure all finances are squared away (kinda crossed off; we've gotten our loan pre-approval)
9. Pray nothing mysterious goes wrong
10. Close on the house
11. GET THE KEYS TO OUR VERY OWN HOUSE
12. MOVE-IN TIME YAY OMG YEEHAW

It's involving a lot of time (though not as much as some people have been burdened with), a lot of money (buh-bye fun money and all other superfluous funds for the next few months), but I've got a feeling it all will be worth it.

Praying types? Please keep on a-prayin'.


Addendum:  How did I not realize that this house is quite cottage-y? Just.Like.Belle's.House. Too much of a stretch? Should I go sit down? ...I'll go sit down.

Most Enchanting

Guys. Just look at this. Just LOOK, you.

I have zero shame in admitting that I teared up like a little doofus at the sight of this gorgeous display of Disney's attention to detail. Guys. We haven't even gotten to the castle yet, and it's already amazing.

CAN YOU IMAGINE THE CASTLE?!

Annnd David even hinted that our anniversary dinner might be at the Be Our Guest restaurant so I'm slightly unable to control my emotions.

I can't. I'm unable to can. Just... I'm done. I'mma be in the car on the way there and be all like

Happy Working Song

I cleaned the apartment today. It's a remarkable thing when you clean house in a good mood. You instantly feel like some hybrid of Giselle or Mary Poppins.

Above: Real photographic evidence of my cleaning the house. Promise.

Maybe that had something to do with the abundance of Disney songs I was singing while scrubbing stains from underneath my stovetop's burners. Or it could be that I had animals around that could've helped me if they weren't so dag-nabbed lazy. Then again, I don't think I want my cats washing the dishes. Too much of a margin for hairballs, cat spittle, et cetera.

Y'know

There's a true sense of catharsis one gets from hammering away at a keyboard to air one's thoughts. That being said, I still kind of hate blogging daily. But I committed to a year of it back in November and, by golly, I'm too far gone to give up now.

You know what's really making me happy though? Looking at Moleskine journals online.

Above: the only journal that's worthy of Heaven itself.

If you haven't had one, you're not really living life to the fullest. Maybe that's a bit of a stretch but see, it's kind of true. Those things will make anyone into a journaling fool. The books will stay flat when you write in them. They've got a handy rubber band that will keep it closed. The books can be lined or full of graph paper.

I mean, just look.

What I'm saying, I guess, is that come November, I might spill my guts out on a paper journal instead. When you're writing on paper, you don't have to run the risk of offending an audience (not that I really had much of one to speak of). You can just spill your guts.

Yes sir, maybe I'll invest in a Moleskine after all this is said and done. I like to write; I love painting pictures with my words and creating a memory for others to read, but I'm not sure if blogging is the proper outlet for all that. Besides, most successful bloggers have a theme (cooking, some sort of fandom, crafting, etc.). Me? I just produce word vomit onto a keyboard.

Until then, I solemnly swear to yammer incessantly on this blog until November. Aren't you just glad?

Go Silverbacks

Our first outing to a semi-professional soccer game resulted in delicious chicken fingers, a free inflatable soccer ball, a real soccer ball kicked right at us, and David's entertaining heckling earned him an invitation to the Atlanta Ultra fan section.

I'd say it was darned productive.

Here it is

Your Friday moment of zen, brought to you by an ad in a local Virginia Beach wedding magazine.

Basically, my husband's a model.

Kudos

Guess who combatted a lousy first half of the week with a kick-butt day at work? This girl.

Yessir, if you need catered lunch in a pinch or a need to move 200 users in a database last minute, I'm your girl. That's valuable... right?

Hump Day Trudgery

It just hasn't been a good week at work, and it's only Wednesday. I've been flooded with things that are beyond my knowhow, and when I don't know how to do things, I get flustered. When I get flustered, I make stupid mistakes. And when I make stupid mistakes, I make big messes. Big messes that I have to clean up. Which make me flustered. And so it goes.

All this nasty cycle just leaves me lacking. The fact of it is, I don't want to be defined by my career. I don't even need to love what I do. I want to make a reasonable amount of money at a decent-enough job with decent-enough folks around me. For the most part, I have that.

But when I get flustered and make stupid mistakes, I don't feel valuable as an employee. I may not be a career woman, but I do want to be of some value at my job. Here lately, I don't feel that way. And it's crummy. So crummy, in fact, that I envy people that leave the company. They're getting a way out. They're going on to better things.

The thing is, I'd like to go on to a different job, but I also want to be a mommy in the foreseeable future. When I become a mommy, I'm staying at home for a few years, at least. So, y'know, I'm trapped.

For now, anyway.

Cluinn mo ghuth

This song has been on repeat for the past few days, and it's making me all the more itchy to learn Gaelic. Is there even a Rosetta Stone for that?

My heritage is largely Scots-Irish-Brit mutt (apart from the legitimate one-fourth Italian), so maybe I can pick it up?

Still I will say

Well, there was going to be potential good news from this weekend's shenanigans: we'd found a house (very close to where we used to live pre-Dunwoody), and we'd even made an offer. But, big surprise: someone else snuck in and made an offer just as we submitted the paperwork.

So, y'know, back to Square One. Again.

But here's the thing: I'm grateful for it. Yes indeedy, I'm thanking God that He let that process end very quickly with that house (as opposed to drawing it out for weeks, only to slam the door in our faces later). Not only that, but David and I are finding more houses to look at on Saturday, and they're (1) gorgeous and (2) in our price range.

I could choose to wallow in discouragement and self-pity. I could choose to blame God or the circumstances that be. I could choose to make my life difficult and get nowhere by kvetching.

But really, what's the point of resorting to that? Nothing gets done. What gets things done is action. And by golly, I'm an Action Jacquie. And we're gonna go get 'em.

Lazy Weekend Post part deux

Raise your hand if you're ready for Monday tomorrow.

Nope?

Me either.

All I'm saying is

I feel really awesome and excited about what God's got in store for us. Today was awesome.

#lazyweekendpost
#hashtagsonblogpostsareforthetechnologicallyincompetent
#toocontenttocare

Bringing it back

After a brief hiatus, here it is again: Your Friday moment of zen.

Don't know what I'm talking about? Check the original video here. You won't be sorry. 

God bless Korea. (Rach, I'm assuming you've heard this?)

My Dutch Man

Once upon a time, I met an amazing fella with a robot in hand, and he asked me to take a picture with it. My first thought: He's nerdy AND hot. Score one for me!

Two and-a-half years later, I became that handsome man's missus. And twenty-five years ago today, that amazing man was born.

David is my best friend. He's my husband. He's my accountability partner. His lips are fun to smooch. He's my workout buddy. We can walk together around new places and never tire of it. He's really really ridiculously good looking. He'll be the father of our children someday, and he's the keeper of my heart.

Happy birthday, my love. You're the most tremendous blessing I've known on this earth, and I love you.

(Oh, and I made him a Domo-kun cake tonight. Not bad for a first attempt. The gang seemed to like it, anyway.)

Gastrofantastic

Switched up the usual sitting-around-the-apartment-on-a-weeknight and went to downtown Decatur. And for my listeners in or around anywhere near the metro Atlanta area, Decatur is hella tight. Chock full of boutiques, restaurants, and all sorts of hipster-meets-thug shenanigans.

Tonight, David and I met up with my pal Christina (who I haven't seen since JMU graduation) and her husband James for dinner at The Brick Store Pub. Guys, this place is phenomenal. I loved the atmosphere, the food, and the prices. Totally recommend.

Besides, the company was outstanding. :) We'll have to have those two over for a dinner party or some such in the veryvery near future.

Not my best

Not feeling it today, boys and girls. Just... well, in general, but blogging's part of it. And it makes me realize, honestly, that this whole "resolution" was such a mistake. How on earth was I to expect I could blog once a day? I mean, really, truly, blog? And have people care about what I wrote?

More than that, could I really expect to blog about things people would even want to care about? Or would it be full of nothing but pity parties and self-centered drivel?

I committed to write once a day for a year, so this is me, writing my daily entry. It's not my best, but I reckon we can at least say I've stuck to a plan. Sort of.

Apparently you just run

In my latest and greatest endeavor for self-betterment, I've been trying to hone my jogging skills. Gotta say, it's tremendously rewarding once you huff and puff your way through a mile and a half, but boy howdy does it leave a body sore.

We'll see just how little I'm filled with resolve to get out of bed tomorrow morning. Yeeeeowch.

Monday Eve

Maybe I don't speak for the class here, but I find myself spending most of the day Sunday dreading Monday's approach, as opposed to spending Sunday doing what I should be doing: recharging myself spiritually, making a point to honor God corporately, etc.. In this whole manner, I think the devil delights in us forgetting about what Sunday ought to be about (and, okay, I think the devil is behind Monday's wretchedness, too, but that's more personal opinion and less spiritual/scriptural).

Therefore, I'm determined to make Sunday God-centered, and less worrying-and-dreading-Monday-centered.

...Next Sunday. Promise.

Real World, Day One

First full day without social media. No Facebooking, no tweeting, no tumblring.

You'd think such abstinence from all things social media would leave me feeling more disconnected. Au contraire, y'all. I'm feeling MORE connected to the world. I deleted the apps from my phone (to avoid robotic reflexes of checking a feed), I enjoyed life today, and I feel downright human.

The only thing I find myself getting concerned about is how much I care whether my friends will go that extra mile to call/text/email to get in touch with me, or if I'm just not worth that extra mile. (Though if they don't want to call me, I get that. I hate talking on the phone, too. Don't you? I mean, there's always that one person that you have to do the "Well, hey, I've gotta run" bit with WAY ahead of time. Cause, I mean, they've got like two hours' worth of additional stuff to tell you. I mean, truly.)

Blackout

I'm not 100% sure why I felt so compelled to do this today, but I've resolved to refrain from social media (specifically Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr) for at least the end of the month.

My only "social" media's going to consist of Instagram (since I'm still doing the photo-a-day challenge), and this here blog (since I'm still doing the blog-once-a-day challenge). I'm hoping that this whole break will leave me refreshed, re-connected, and amazingly re-humanized.

'Til then, looks like you guys know where to find me.

Overexposure-fil-A

I'll be honest with you: I'm scared of airing my opinion.

Why? Because my feelings lean a little bit into either side of this argument. Which, of course, means everyone's going to find something to ream me about.

The Cliffs Notes version:


If you ate at Chick-fil-A yesterday, you hate gays, rainbows, unicorns, polyester, and the idea of equality (but you love Fox News). You probably also think that Hitler was a respectable young man for standing firm in his beliefs.


If you didn't eat at Chick-fil-A yesterday, you hate God, free speech, all Christians, apple pie, Betsy Ross, and the American way. You probably also spent your day stepping on baby bald eagles, because that's how much you hate America.


There. I think that covered everyone fairly, don't you? No? Read on.

Over the past day or so, I've developed quite a love-hate relationship with my Facebook feed. In a sick, twisted sort of way, I loved reading the discourse among my friends who were fired up (on either side of this whole Chick-fil-A craziness), reading the comments of dissent from friends who were threatening to defriend if they did/didn't agree with Dan Cathy's views on marriage, and kind of laughed to myself at the frenzied political fanaticism that's stemming from chicken.

Because you need to laugh at this stuff. Otherwise, it's going to make you cry.

That's where the hate of my love-hate Facebook feelings comes from. And I hate even using the word "hate," especially when it's been thrown around like a beach ball at a rock concert lately. Hate is serious. It's not the way you feel about broccoli (no matter how much you don't like the feeling on your tongue). It isn't the way you feel about that guy that cut in front of you on the off-ramp. Hate is deep, and it's rooted in some purely evil stuff.

And you know what? I saw more hate thrown around at each other yesterday than I saw in a unidirectional manner. Everyone was being cut down for their opinions. Everyone was throwing up walls and ostracizing one another if they didn't hold the same values. It was like a food fight, only instead of food being hurled all over the cafeteria, it was insults, degradation, and otherwise unsportsmanlike conduct.



"But it's not about the chicken," many of my friends defended. "It's not even about what Dan Cathy's singular opinion is on marriage. It's what Chick-fil-A is funding with its customers' money."

I wholeheartedly agree. Many of the organizations Chick-fil-A publicly donates its profits to are even controversial among Christians and involve more-than-controversial views of human beings. Does anyone think that Jesus would give the ol' thumbs-up to groups using electroshock therapy to allegedly knock the gay right out of someone, or to single out one specific group of people about how utterly, unspeakably different and "awful" they are? No. Regardless of how you feel about gay folks or gay marriage, it's not okay (and not Christlike) to treat people as though they were sub-human. Read my lips: it's not okay. I don't care if it's gays, Christians, or serial killers. God is inexplicably, immensely in love with every single one of them.

That being said, have we evaluated what other unspeakable, inhumane things we fund with our consumerism? Apple was recently in the midst of a controversy over essentially using Chinese slaves to produce its sleek products, as well as using diamonds in their products that are steeped in African conflict. Every time we go to the gas pump, we send buckets of money to countries, many of which hold ages-old practices that involve stoning people to death, including gays, women, and other people who don't hold the same beliefs. All of this, in addition to countless other factories in all parts of the world that hurt people, hurt families, and have questionable motives at best. Would you like your money to go to any of that?

Should we boycott Apple as well, then, for keeping Chinese workers from earning any money to live off of, or for using African blood diamonds in their electronics? Should we keep away from the gas pump to avoid funding brutality toward humankind, persecuted just because they're different?

Or, are we going to cherry-pick and boycott something that's a little more convenient to give up, like chicken sandwiches and waffle fries, as opposed to our essential iPhones or gas tanks?




"But it's not about gay rights," said many of my friends. "It's about defending free speech. It's about being able to have an opinion without fear of retribution. That's our right as Americans."

That is absolutely true. We live in a country where we should (emphasis on should) be able to enjoy our First Amendment right to say what we want, to state our honest opinion and not be penalized for it. As American citizens, we also have the privilege of letting our dollar cast a vote, make a statement. If we want those dollars to support someone, we can. America did do that, by golly, in Chick-fil-A restaurants the world over. Places were running out of food, it was so successful.

As for all this hoopla about Boston and Chicago vowing never to let Chick-fil-A operate within their borders, I think that's a bit over the line. If Chick-fil-A legally has permission to build somewhere, they should be able to build. If the people of Boston or Chicago want to run them out of business by never setting foot in their restaurant, that's fine. Guess what? You have the freedom to do it. But Chick-fil-A has the freedom to set up shop wherever they'd like in this country just the same. And those who want to eat there have the right to do so without being branded with ugly, unfounded names (no more than those who oppose the restaurant's views should be given ugly names).

My high school government teacher explained our right to free speech a little like this: Having the right to free speech is like having the right to swing my arms around as much as I want, whenever I want, wherever I want. I enjoy that freedom as an American citizen. If I swing my arms so much that they hit someone else in the face, though, that's the problem. Ergo, we all have the right to free speech, until that free speech causes harm to others. Something to think about.




To my fellow Christians, here's a bit of required reading: Five Reasons Why the Church Failed Yesterday

I'm not going to pretend I have the same way with words as the author of that piece does. The whole thing is exceptional to read, but this is one of my favorite bits:

By rallying behind CFA, Christians put an issue above people. And it’s impossible to follow Jesus when issues trump people. Jesus never said “love God, love causes.” That is not the message that gets preached in churches all over America on Sunday mornings. I’ve heard a hundred different explanations from patrons of yesterday’s rally and nearly every one of them gives precedence to “the cause”. We can’t embrace love, mercy, hope, and peace when our causes (or a place of business) trumps people.

My fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, we're a bit more accountable than everyone else in this equation. Why? Because we're called to love the Lord with all our heart, soul, and mind, and, Jesus says, to love our neighbor as ourselves. If we claim to have the moral high ground, we'd better start walking the walk. If we falter in that walk once in a while, that's okay. It's just a reminder that we're sinners. We all are.

But that's the awesome thing about who Jesus is: he's come to feed the hungry. And whether or not we quench our earthly hunger with Chick-fil-A, Jesus is there to satiate something bigger.

Yes, world, something bigger than not even Chick-fil-A (or a lack thereof) can satisfy.


Jesus, friend of sinners, we have strayed so far away
We cut down people in your name but the sword was never ours to swing
Jesus, friend of sinners, the truth's become so hard to see
The world is on their way to You but they're tripping over me
Always looking around but never looking up I'm so double minded
A plank eyed saint with dirty hands and a heart divided



Oh Jesus, friend of sinners
Open our eyes to the world at the end of our pointing fingers
Let our hearts be led by mercy
Help us reach with open hearts and open doors
Oh Jesus, friend of sinners, break our hearts for what breaks yours

Back in the game

Well, so much for that little monthly experiment of a photo a day. Didn't seem to garner too much attention, so I guess I'll go back to waxing poetic on the blogosphere with words instead of pictures.

Anyone miss me? Anyone? Bueller?