what I'm learning

Packages never arrive when they're supposed to. Also, I need to stop ordering things off the Internet because the anticipation just about makes me crazy to the point where I suddenly cannot function until I receive my package of fruity tea, or that necklace from Korea.

Organic coffee is just as good. Maaaaaybe better.

It's best to just accept that I do, in fact, look seventeen. ("Bless your heart," one lady said to me the other day, "you've just got one of them baby faces.") Perhaps top knots and pink jeans don't help.

I am so much more creative and energized and free spirited when unemployed. Dang it.

Also, husbands don't fall for that, "But I need to stay home to be free to explore my creative potential!" talk. (I guess he's already seen how far my artsy degree has gotten me?)

At least I know, from my week and a half of unemployment, that I would make a superb housewife. Laundry is great fun when you have a whole eight hours to do it.

Fake flowers? Eh, they do the trick.

Women still have a bump after giving birth. Not to sound totally ignorant, but I truly did not know this until I saw the Kate Middleton pictures. She looked incredibly gorgeous and elegant as always, but I was so confused that she was holding a baby...with a baby bump. But after some quick research, I now know just a little more about the facts of life. The Internet has cured my naivety once again.

Good intentions don't count.

Poetry is great. Being an English major made me anxious around it, like it was something to be dissected and gutted like a fish, and I'm not really into getting my hands dirty. Does anyone even know what that red wheelbarrow poem is all about? Because I'd really like to believe it's just about a wheelbarrow. And now you know why I am, to this day, still afraid to see what GPA I graduated with. I may never know. But I've been reading some (modern) poetry for fun, and I may just be a convert. Much better way to spend those spare moments than scrolling through my phone.

Scrambled eggs and avocado are changing my life.

One month later, that no-shampoo gig is also changing my life. So worth those couple weeks of suspiciously slick ponytails.

Always check to see if your clothes are on backwards.

I may never get out of this cycle of random temp jobs. Getting trained and starting something new every couple weeks and not knowing what's going to happen next. I guess it's nice, in a way, better than being strapped down to a job I hate. But I'm suffering from recurring day-dreams of getting hired at that cute book shop downtown and shelving the classics in my poofy white skirt and cardigan. Recommending my favorites while pushing my glasses up my nose. Is it too much to ask?

The fact that I was born after eyebrow pencils were invented is proof that God loves me.

some awkwardness for your week

Awkward things:

- Self check-outs at the grocery store. My husband loves them but by the time I'm through with them (that is, if I don't give up and find a real cashier) I want to take a baseball bat to the thing. It's just never the smooth, uncomplicated experience you want. "Place item in bag. PLACE ITEM IN BAG!" I don't like being yelled at by machines; I guess I'm sensitive that way. If someone is being paid to do all that nonsense for me, why not just let them? That's pretty much my life philosophy.

- Eating out with other Christians or, more specifically, saying grace. It's tricky because everyone, I've learned, has their own concrete idea of when exactly this should take place. So every time I eat out with a Christian, I have discern what type they are: the pray before the rolls type, pray before salad and/or appetizers type or, worst of all, the pray before taking a sip of water type. Personally, I think it makes sense to pray before the actual meal (or even afterwards!) But what do I know.

- Finding a paper on marriage I wrote in the seventh grade. It read, "When I'm a wife, I will always be obedient and cook breakfast every morning." Trevor laughed just a little too hard when I read it to him.

- When someone hits my car. Normally I'm the one doing something illegal or idiotic on the road (unintentionally, of course), so when someone hit my car in the library parking lot the other day, I had no idea how to respond.

There I sat in the parking lot, ready to pull out, when this girl starts backing out, oblivious that I was directly behind her. Never having a reason to use it before, I fumbled to find the horn, not quite ready to die (although somewhat pleased that, if it had to happen, it was with a pile of newly checked out books beside me.) It was too late, though, and she bonked into the side of my little Honda.

 I thought maybe I should have been angry? or got her insurance information, perhaps? But when I caught a glimpse of her in her rearview mirror, she looked a lot like me; young, a little ditzy, the type of girl whose nose was always in a book. So, unsure of what else to do, I simply smiled and waved like, "Me too, girl. Me too." I've yet to inspect my car.

that time we made out on the news

Trevor was my very first boyfriend, so needless to say, I was quite excited to spend our first Valentine's Day together. I was still in college, and he had driven five hours to come see me. What he didn't know, however, was that I had entered us into a little radio competition.

I had heard about the contest on the radio, entered it on a whim, and literally screamed out loud when the DJ called me one morning on my way to class to tell me that we were chosen to compete. I mean, a radio contest. I thought people only participated in those things on 80's sitcoms. This was the most exciting thing to happen to a girl who entered every contest imaginable and had only won one--the prize of which was a membership to a gym at which I was already a member.

Trevor arrived that Friday afternoon and, as we were walking towards my apartment, I casually dropped it into the conversation.

"What kind of radio contest?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Um, it's like...it's a kissing contest."

His eyes bugged out. "A what?"

"Yeah, it's a contest to see which couple can kiss the longest and whoever wins gets a diamond ring. Not that I am in any way suggesting I need a diamond ring right now." It's the principle of the thing, really. "You want to do it?"

And after the initial shock wore off, he wholeheartedly agreed. After all, we only got to see each other once a month, so it seemed like a pretty good way to spend the afternoon.

So we spent our Saturday in a jewelry store, surrounded by radio hosts and the local news crew, as we kissed. And kissed. And kissed. All while hearing our names announced over the radio show in between Phil Collins and Michael Jackson. Unfortunately the jewelry store was still open for business as all this was going on, so strangers were inches away from us, awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact. It was only then that I realized how absurd the whole thing was.

Two by two, couples were dropping out until it was us and one other couple. At the end of every hour we were given a ten minute break, and during our last break we learned that the other couple had just gotten engaged.

And we kind of felt like slime because we secretly thought the ring was ugly and had made plans to pawn the sucker. So we took ourselves out of the competition and we came out the runners-up.

Although, if you think about it, there really were no losers that day.

We kissed for six hours. And were on the local news and radio, which I didn't think much of until I was sitting in class the next Monday. Some girl called out across the classroom, "Heather, I was listening to the radio the other day and, well...were you in a kissing contest?"

So that, friends, made my twenty-one years of waiting for a boyfriend on Valentine's Day totally worth it. I promise that I am not a, how you say, hootchie-mama. Nor do I promote making out in public. Unless, of course, there's a diamond ring involved. 

Word on the street is that there is a news clip of said event floating around the Internet. As if I haven't located it at least five times and watched it with popcorn. But I didn't want anyone to lose their lunch. You're welcome, and happy Valentine's Day.

awkward: college edition

College: almost as awkward as my orange eyebrows.

- My first day as a college student. I was chatting with a couple of my friends from high school, one of whom was a guy I'd secretly had a crush on for years. I was heading out the door, smiling and batting my eyes at this guy, when suddenly every single alarm in the building went off. I had gone out the emergency exit. In front of this guy I'd been trying so hard to impress. Fortunately, he still married me a few years later.

- On one particularly sunny day, I pulled on my sunglasses as I walked across campus. The moment I put them on, I knew something was odd. Something was messing with my vision, but I just shook it off, assuming that my contacts were just blurry. When I got inside and inspected them, however, I saw that one of the lenses had popped out. I had walked across the entire campus with one lens out of my sunglasses.


- My many attempts at intramural sports. sigh. I was one of those girls who always made excuses to sit out during gym class--I hate sports and exertion in general.

 But, inspired by the many talks we were given as college freshmen about finding our "niche", I was eager to fit in somewhere...anywhere. So I tried intramural soccer. Fail. Tennis. Fail. Flag football...major fail. Who knew that all the girls were actual athletes who were the freaking all stars on their high school teams? They meant business and had no patience for little me saying, "Yeah, can we talk about what an interception is again?" Needless to say, I made no friends this way.



- Riding my unicycle. So, if you didn't know, I have a unicycle. Because why not, you know? But I was always too embarrassed to ride around campus (not the sort of thing you want to do if you don't enjoy drawing attention to yourself.)

 At my job on campus, my coworkers kept begging me to ride it to work, so I finally gave in. Much to my surprise, however, the day I rode it also happened to be the day when hundreds of high school kids were visiting the campus. And they were ALL staring at me and laughing and following around like I was the freaking pied piper. Not sure what that did for the school's image, really. And I never rode the stupid thing on campus again.


- That time (okay, one of the many times) I rushed a sorority. You can probably imagine the awkardness without further commentary, but let me just expound on that.

So I was sitting in the interview in my very best outfit, trying not to be intimidated by the thirty girls staring me down. The interviewer asked, "If you were an animal, what would you be?" (That should have been my first clue.)

And I said the first thing that popped in my mind. (A major character flaw, really.) "Oh, I'd be a sea turtle. Because, you know, they're just kinda slow..." I did not get into the sorority.


- Speaking of interviews, I interviewed for a job on campus that I was really, really hoping to get. And, just like the sorority girls, they asked me this one ridiculous question: "If you were a car part, what would you be?" A car part. Coming up with intelligent answers on the spot is not my thing, apparently.

"I'd be the fuzzy dice." I know. "Because, I mean, they don't really serve a purpose; they just kinda hang out..."

Blank stares.

"But they're fun!"

I basically told them that I don't serve a purpose and just kinda hang out. 

I surprisingly did not get the job. But I do have fuzzy dice hanging in my car to this day.

coffee date

Click play...if only to make whatever face I'm making go away. K, thanks. 'Preciate it.

'Ello friends! I am linking up today with Rags to Stitches and 5oh Wifey for Coffee Date/Girl Behind the Blog. You guys, this is my first video...ever. I've never skyped or video chatted or anything, so this was...new. Eye-opening, to say the least (sweet mercy, let's hope I don't really blink all slow and dramatic like a drunk sorority girl.)

For the record, yes, I am aware that I have serial killer eyes.

(I was not, however, aware that my voice sounds like an Olsen twin. From ten years ago.)

Enjoy the awkwardness. And maybe make your own awkward video. 

If you want to link up, go over to this lady's blog:

Happy Friday!

awkward moments as a youth pastor's wife

I'm normally pretty good at embarassing myself on my own, but being married to a youth pastor has greatly increased my opportunities to do so. Here are some examples.


- That time I tried to lead a Bible study.

There's something terrifying about sitting there with  twenty girls and several adults just staring at you, waiting for you to say something profound or holy or, at the very least, funny. I pretty much froze. I'd read a Bible verse and be like, "So, like, what do you guys think about that?" It was awful.

They just blinked at me until one girl randomly piped up and said, "Yeah, but how did you know Trevor was the one?"


- The first time I met the youth group was at a party. Somehow I ended up sitting in a room with about three kids, and no one was saying anything. Awkward silence for several minutes. So I took it upon myself to remedy the situation by saying, "Well, hey...we all have red hair!" Because we all really did have red hair. But no one else seemed to be as amused by the fact. More staring.


- My first Sunday at the church.

I was about to walk out of the bathroom when some girl said, "Um, hey, your skirt is tucked into your underwear."

I still have nightmares about what would have happened if that girl hadn't been there. I've actually never seen her since, so I'm just assuming she was a wardrobe malfunction angel. (If this is the case, I'd like to know where she's been the rest of my life).


- The pantyhose situation. Or, "When My Victoria's Secret Stockings Were Suddenly No Longer a Secret".


- When I brought a ginger beer to a staff meeting. For those of you who don't know, ginger beer is basically an intense version of ginger ale and is definitely non-alchoholic. But the bottle apparently looks like a beer bottle. Everyone was awkardly staring at it the whole time until someone said, "So, uh, what's in that bottle?"


- When I tried to welcome the new girl.

So this one night at Youth Group I spotted a new girl and, of course, introduced myself. "Hey, I'm Heather, Trevor's wife. We are so glad to have you tonight!" I said, all enthusiastically. "Hope you come back!"

Later that night I told Trevor about the sweet new girl I met. And he was like, "Huh. I didn't see any new kids tonight."

"Yeah, her name was Kayla."

And he smirked and said, "Kayla's been going to this church her entire life."

It's like, why do I try.


- When one of the fashion-conscious girls called me out for outfit repeating. Observant little turds girls.


- Summer camp. There was a no PDA rule for the campers. And, since I look all of twelve years old, people were constantly mistaking me for a camper, constantly telling Trevor and I to stop holding hands, until they realized who we were.

One night Trevor and I were walking into our cabin and this pastor literally followed us in and demanded to know just what we were doing.

When it finally dawned on him that we were adults and married, he kept apologizing. And it was just awkward all around. Because, that thing he thought we were going in there to do? That's exactly what we were going in there to do.



- Trevor was leading this summer Bible study for the kids, and was making sure that everyone had brought their Bible. He asked everyone to raise their hands if they needed one, and no one did.

"Good," he said. "I mean, who doesn't bring their Bible to a Bible study?" Everyone laughed.

And I slowly raised my hand.

awkwardness

Hope everyone is ready for another week of awkwardness...I sure wasn't.

My awkward moments of the week:

-Ordering a salad at Subway. The menu offered a vegetable salad, so I ordered the vegetable salad.
Subway girl: "What would you like on the salad?"
Me: "Oh, whatever comes on it."
Subway girl: "It's all up to you."

So I kind of start sweating a little bit because I hate these kinds of decisions.

I was like, "Hmm. Huh. Uhhh...wow, really?" And then it turns out all they have is banana peppers and onions. No carrots, no dainty little almond flakes. Don't they know that girls go to Subway?

So I paid five dollars for a bowl of leaves and some cheese. Never again.

-Discovering that my navy dress is actually black. Trevor casually remarked about my black dress and I yanked it out of the closet and held it under the light to discover that it is, indeed, black. And now everything I have worn it with suddenly does not match. Everything I know is wrong.

-Buying a bottle of wine with Trevor. The lady at the cash register gave me the evil eye and asked how old I was. I didn't have my ID, so Trevor had to tell her that I'm twenty-three (really). And I thought I'd help the situation by sticking out my left hand and saying, "It's okay, we're married!"

Her eyebrow was still raised.

And then I remembered that people under twenty-one can be married, too.

-Getting sick and losing my voice...at a wedding. I really wanted to talk to the sweet couple sitting across from us, so I attempted to croak out a conversation. An hour later I mention that I'm sick and they're all, "Oh, no, really?"

Please, please tell me you did not actually think I sounded like a warthog with tonsillitis.

Awkward

Awkward moments define my life. It's like a gift. Some people sing, some tap dance. I produce awkward/embarassing situations. Here are some recent favorites.


1. When people ask if I want cream in my coffee, for some unfortunate reason, my first instinct is to say, "No, thanks. I'm a black person." I *usually* stop myself before actually saying this.

2. Finding a hideous shade of lipstick in my drawer and throwing it away, only to realize that I wore it on my wedding day.

3. At a rehearsal dinner recenly, in line for food:

Me: Is that sushi?
Guy in front of me: Those are stuffed mushrooms.

I'm real cultured, y'all.

4. My Panera date with my sister, Christy. We were standing in line when a little girl looked at us and asked her mom why we looked like twins. My sister and I, quite amused and charmed by the little girl, explained that we were sisters. "Sisters?!" she said. "But you look like old ladies!"

Thanks, kid.

5. Walking into Starbucks and seeing another redhead wearing the exact same dress as me. Normally, I would make a big deal out of the situation and be all, "Oh my goshhhh! This is amazing! Let's be friends!" But she didn't seem as amused by the situation.