Just something to ponder on…
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
Jeremiah 29:11-13 (NIV)
CandE (can-dee) Day!
After reading about Mr. Z Day, my friend Carrie and I decided we needed to have C and E Day. I mean, how can you not copy something that great? We decided to celebrate C and E day during breakfast for two reasons:
- We teach different grade levels and it is impossible to synchronize our lunch times.
- Apparently we are not the same caliber of teacher as Mr. Z is. We felt like there would be more ambiance without kiddos around!
I gathered up some greenery, dainty tea cups and the least spotted silverware I could find. Carrie got out her hope chest and pulled out some place mats. I awoke at 5:30 to ensure I would have plenty of time to stop by Einstein’s Bagels. Carrie ran by Starbucks and grabbed a raspberry white chocolate mocha for me and a regular chocolate mocha for herself. Though the finished result is not as polished as what Mr. Z pulled off, I’d say we did pretty good for a couple of first timers…
The pair of heart-shaped cups is a nice touch, don’t you think?
Carrie is toasting the fact that her recent haircut looks so much better than mine!
What a lady I am. Such dainty cutlery skills.
And a huge thank you to the lady that made CandE possible! Thank you Claire for covering Carrie’s morning duty! How did we survive last year without you?
Thank you Mr. Z for inspiring me to slow down and smell the roses! I hope that we’re not the only ones to follow in your footsteps!
And like Mr. Z, we did get a few stares and a lot of questions. Some lingered and celebrated with us. It was good times. Perhaps we’ll have CandE day again real soon.
No mo mojo…
I got a not-so-good haircut. I went to my normal hairdresser, who is absolutely amazing! I’m not sure what happened. I should have taken in a photo of my last haircut, cuz it was lookin’ pretty good. But instead of planning ahead, I tried to find duplicates of it in some magazines layin’ around in the lobby. Big mistake! Here is a pic of me right after my last good cut.
Not bad if I say so myself!
I was freaking out yesterday with the new not so good cut, and I had hopes that my distaste with the cut was because of the style. Maybe it was more of a curly cut. So I got home and washed it, and low and behold, it’s not a curly cut either. It’s an ugly cut. And then I proceeded to cry.
I haven’t cried over a haircut since I cut my own bangs when I was about fifteen. I cried for days and days over that mishap. So, I am currently on day 2 of crying over this new cut. My family has given me a few words of encouragement. Noah said it makes me look like a woman in a vintage cigarette ad. This is a vintage cigarette ad. Enough said.
Although, I’m certain Noah meant it looked more like this, I really miss the longer locks framing my face. Chris said I look like a flapper from the 20s. Maddie said if I pin it back it doesn’t look so bad. Carrie said that it is just an average cut, and I’m not used to seeing myself with an average cut because my hair usually looks fabulous when I leave my hairdresser’s. So, between cries, I have been trying to play with it to see if I can figure out how to style it in a way I’m not embarrassed to step out into public.
I guess I needed a reality check. I had no idea I had become so vain about my hair. I mean, I definitely feel good after visiting Mrs. Nancy, and I talk about how good I look, but it’s mostly in jest. I guess even the best of us make mistakes every once in a while. I’ll post pics in a bit. I am still trying to fool with it enough so that it’s bearable to look upon.
Family and Death: A Complicated Topic…
These are my maternal grandparents.
Last week my dear sweet grandmother passed away. It’s odd, because things like this don’t choke me up the way people expect them to. I’m not sure why that is. A cousin of mine has a theory that she and I do weddings, not funerals. Maybe she’s on to something. I do cry at weddings. They are such a beautiful beginning. But I don’t cry as often at funerals. If a death is tragic, then I tend to get more emotional. But if someone has lived a long full life, and illness preceded their death, then honestly, I’m thankful to see that their time has come.
In the last year, I have lost two of my grandparents. I lost my paternal grandfather a little more than a year ago, and after visiting with him right before he passed, I felt it was time for him to be reunited with his Maker. Last week, I lost my maternal grandmother. Though she only passed away a week ago, I mourned her death several years ago when Alzheimer’s began to kick in. It was very difficult to witness someone’s memory die off bit by bit day after day. My grandmother’s quality of life had diminished to the point that she barely knew who she was. She was constantly in a confused state of mind. I draw comfort knowing that she is now able to sit in the uninterrupted presence of my Father.
When I think about both of my grandparents, I am saddened most by the relationships I had with them. Though I was close to them as a child, my relationship with both weakened as I grew into an adult. I don’t necessarily feel guilty, but I do feel sad. As an adult we gain wisdom, and we are able to see more fault in others. I don’t agree with a lot of choices people in my family have made. Dysfunctional patterns have been repeated, and I try my best not to repeat them. But despite my family’s shortcomings, there are certain memories that are so good they overshadow the not so good ones.
I remember my grandfather playing the fiddle and singing. It drove me nuts as a child; it brings me to tears as an adult. In fact, my grandfather is primarily the reason I love bluegrass music so much today. My grandmother sang beautifully. Anytime I hear someone sing an operatic tune, I think of her. I have many memories of my grandfather being grumpy and snappy. They make me laugh. I have many memories of my grandmother freaking out and chastising us. They make me laugh too. It’s funny how the fondest memories we have aren’t always the most pleasant ones.
Perhaps I don’t cry at funerals like this because I don’t want to let my wall down. I’ve gotten good at building walls when it comes to protecting me from the heartaches that come from loving others in my extended family. I’m 33 years old, and I’ve still not figured that one out. Maybe in 33 more years I’ll be a bit closer to understanding things.
