bright friday

i had good intentions, i really did.

my plan was to get up at 4 a.m. this morning to brave the black friday crowds with my mama and sister. though i'm trying to buy homemade and secondhand this christmas, i wanted that experience. of trekking to target in the dark. of starbucks at 6 a.m., shopping bags full at our chilly feet. but mainly, more than anything, i wanted to make a memory with those women so special to me. black friday was more than a crazy shopping day to me. it was a chance to create one of those "remember when" moments that i could look back on fondly.

but a few things stood in my way.

the first was a sleepover. the kind that i haven't had in a long while.

my mama spends the night with my grandpa, nanno, on tuesdays and thursdays. since his pneumonia, he has just felt more comfortable having someone in the back bedroom, in the off chance that he falls in the middle of the night or has an emergency. he has five children, three of which live within walking distance, so they just all switch off spending the night with them. last night was mama's night. since my sister is home from college for thanksgiving and we want to soak up our time with her, enjoy every second of her sweet, kind presence, we decided to make a
night of  it.

we painted nails. stayed up watching chelsea lately and talking. nanno retired early, around 10, and mama held her heavy eyelids open until around midnight, finally retreating to her childhood bedroom in her flannel pajamas and warm socks.

my sister and i, knowing that our black friday adventure was to start at 4, stayed up the entire night. on nanno's couch, we sat with our legs crossed facing each other in our pjs. for a while, we watched mindless television. then, without discussing it, we simply muted the shows and began to talk. a good, heartfelt talk like we used to have when we shared a bedroom. it made my heart smile to listen to her talk about her  life, and to share mine with her.

then 4 a.m. rolled around. we woke up mama. all three of us prepared to go shopping. and i  realized i just couldn't do it. i didn't need to. i had already made my memory that night. i had bonded with the women in my life over so much more than early bird specials. so i let them go on, and i headed back to my cottage in the dark, where i saw this:

and i knew i had made the right decision to stay home. as quietly as i could, i slipped into bed, barely waking my sweet husband and pablo. and then, just as i had spent the night with the two top women in my life, i rolled over on my side and said my prayers, thankful to spend the wee hours of the morning with my two top men.

yellow tights and buttons

pre-post note:
thank you to the sweet readers who requested a vintch blog button. there's now a little link to the button on the right sidebar. blog buttons are super fun and remind me of american girl grin pins.


now on to the story...

i wore yellow tights to work yesterday.


when i slipped them on that morning, i was so happy. everything about them--from their retro mustard shade to their velvety texture, made my cold, gray morning a little brighter. they also made me smile with love, because they were picked out and purchased as a surprise for me by my sweet mama. late monday evening, she came to me, her hands sneakily behind her back. close your eyes and hold out your hand, she said, unable to hide her excitement. when she laid them in my open hand, i looked up at her. she was beaming. i found these for only $2! they're nine west! she exclaimed (if there was ever a question about where my love for thriftiness comes from, look no further than this woman).

and i loved them. i loved them so. and i loved her for knowing my style so well. for embracing what makes me unique and special and investing her time and money (no matter how much) into making me feel beautiful.

so i hopped into my car, played my favorite christian radio station, ran the heat on full until the cold left my bones, and started the day with a full heart.

then i got to work and it happened.


the stares.

the polite, quick look-aways, as if my tights were blinding and they shouldn't look too long at them, like the sun. like it wouldn't have mattered if i had shown up to work completely naked sans the tights.

one man was walking a new employee around the office. he stopped at mine and introduced me as the girl with the yellow legs. 

one woman came to my office, sat down beside me and said those are the most...unique...tights i've ever seen. i asked if that was a compliment. she said i don't know. i just really don't like that color.


to which i promptly thought:


well then, good thing they're my tights and not yours.


because i knew something she didn't. i knew that these tights were more than a fashion statement. more than just an accessory with my floral skirt and white sweater. more than a fabulous steal. more.than.yellow.


they were the physical manifestation of a bond between mother and daughter. of sweet sacrifice and thoughfulness. of monday night surprises after crockpot suppers.


and for that reason alone, i will wear them.


i also happen to really, really love them. and that realization fills my heart up so much that all the judging stares and rude comments, all of the slow-downs and second glances, corporate kitchen pauses and head-to-toe once overs


just
simply
won't
fit.

baby steps and bananagrams

my grandpa, who my family refers to as nanno, played bananagrams a few days ago. this is a game similar to scrabble, where you try to make words out of little plastic letters. however, unlike scrabble, bananagrams houses its letters in an adorable yellow bag shaped like-you guessed it.

to an outside, undiscerning eye, this would look like an ordinary saturday night. lawerence welk was playing on the t.v. in the kitchen. dishes from our family supper sat bubbly in the sink. my brother was in the living room doing his homework. but i assure you, this was a moment that made my heart soar.

about a month ago, nanno was rushed to the hospital with shortness of breath. he had just celebrated his 90th birthday the previous weekend. his sisters, children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren gathered to celebrate him and rejoice in his good health. at his golden age, he still finished an entire crossword puzzle every day and was a voracious reader, devouring anything he could get his hands on, no matter how random the content. case in point--his latest book finished was kathy griffin's autobiography. it didn't matter to him. as long as he could keep his mind sharp and engaged, it was enough.

nanno had pneumonia. this is bad news at any age, but at 90 it's like he crossed over into the realm of fraility and we were all worried sick about him. that, coupled with the fact that he only has a fraction of his lungs due to a post-war surgery many years ago.

so we waited. and watched. as this proud, sweet man weakened. it broke our hearts and threatened to break our spirits. nanno used to be the champ at bananagrams. he would beat our entire family, triumphantly exclaiming BANANAGRAMS when he reached his victory. he would come up with the most obscure words, all of which were always in the dictionary.

but we didn't play bananagrams for a while. he didn't feel up to it. instead, he wanted to sit in his chair with a little white blanket covering his feet. he wanted to watch jeopardy and wheel of fortune and let his mind wander. and didn't he deserve it? this is a man who has lived his life in the shadows, serving and helping. shouldn't we serve him and just let him rest?

but last weekend, he did something spectacular. after supper, like usual, we asked do you want to play bananagrams? expecting the usual, "no, not today." but he didn't say that. his little ears perked up and he said sure.

so we played. my sister and her boyfriend won the game, but it didn't matter. nanno had the true victory. that little act was a big feat. it symbolized a return to hope, life and a sense of normalacy. it was tangible proof that God answers prayers.

nanno was back, and it was a beautiful thing. he's not healed--that will be a long road, but he has taken the first baby step toward recovery. and isn't that what life is? just a sweet succession of baby steps along the way? there's a reason babies aren't born with the ability to run. they'd be out of the house in no time, out exploring before they were ready.

crawing, baby steps, time. it's all about preparation. building up your wings before taking flight. because then, when you're truly ready to fly away, it will be more glorious than you ever imagined.

nanno at his 90th birthday

i go where the trees go

there is a little cottage in the mountains. it's a tiny little thing nestled between high arching trees. there are rhododendrons on its sidewalk and rosebushes decorate its split rail fence. the rooms aren't large, but there are flannel sheets, a soft floral couch, perfect showerhead water pressure, and heat that echoes off the floorboards.

i spent the weekend here with robert and my brother. the cottage, owned by robert's parents, is on lake junaluska, near asheville, north carolina. robert's dad is a methodist minister, and the lake community serves as a retreat center for the methodist church. there is peace here. this is a place where street lights stay on all night. bed and breakfasts, with their faint evening glow and dimly lit dining rooms, are scattered along the water's edge. old men talk on rocking chairs on front porches. people walk the "prayer circle" outside the little waterside chapel, praying for someone different with each turn and arc.

this weekend, i took my two favorite boys up here to soak in the glory. highlights of our weekend include:

• walking around the lake at 1 a.m., finally reaching the mountainside cross around 2:00 in the morning.
• seeing the fabulous joanna newsom live at the orange peel in asheville
• eating all the fabulous diner food we could manage (hot dogs, BLTs, homemade vegetable soup)
• seeing the movie unstoppable at the rocky mountain cinema, a little hole in the wall that hasn't changed in about 20 years, with only a few rows of chairs for each screen

and finally, venturing to this book store:

this store was crazy. it was about two miles off the beaten path in the heart of the mountains. it was a total fire hazard, with thousands of books packed into this trailer outside a house. all the books were ridiculously overpriced because we believe the woman doesn't really want to sell them. she just wants to live in them.

the owner, an older woman with short hair and strong country accent, was hard to find at first. then we spotted her. she had created a little cubby inside all the books, where she would poke her little head out. please notice our shocked expressions:

it was all fun and games until we saw the millions of no-stealing signs the woman had posted up. all were handwritten, scribbled on plain white paper. one said "attention thieves: if you steal from me, your blood will flow." this seemed a bit much, so we got scared and left. my brother managed to find a book of wordsworth poetry for less than $5, which he quickly purchased.

overall, the weekend was awesome. packed with tranquility, peace and relaxation. with just the right amount of adventure.

relay of friendship

relay races always scared me during field day. i felt as if all the pressure were on me-if my leg slid out during the sack race, the pair behind me would be delayed, thus making our whole team lose. if i suddenly got a bad case of butter fingers and dropped the baton during a race, what would happen then? the pressure was insurmountable.

but this is a different kind of relay-the kind of relay i love:) the beautiful and fabulous a whole lotta love has tagged me in the Friendship Relay. it means so much that she would choose me, giving my little blog a chance to shine! now, like a true relay, it is my turn to pass the baton to my fellow blogging friends. i was chosen because my blog is new, and new blogs need love too! thus, i choose to share this honor with three lovely up-and-coming bloggers who i just know are going to explode the blogosphere with their awesomeness. some are brand-spanking new, and some have graced us for a few months. i'm privileged to be your followers, ladies:

1. Peaches from Living Peachy Keen
2. Ana from The World Through My Eyes
3. Emily from Little Things in Life
4. Amy from A Daring Little Life

if you've been tagged, simply answer the following questions in your own post and pass the baton to a few more friends. looking so forward to your responses! just watch those butter fingers.

1.   What did you first want to be when you grew up?
A writer. When I was 10, I made and bound a blue book of short stories. They were all created on Microsoft Notepad and were very simple, but full of imagination. On the last page, I glued a picture of myself and wrote a little “author’s biography.” The last line was “Courtney loves to get fan mail.”

2.   Favorite childhood game?
MASH. Not the television show, of course. Does anyone remember MASH? It is a little game you play on paper, where you predict the names of your future children, what kind of car you’re going to drive, what your husband’s name will be, how many kid’s you’ll have, how much money you’ll make, etc. and of course, if you’ll live in a Mansion, Apartment, Shack or House. Even as a young girl, I was obsessed with my future life—the life I’m living now.

3.   Most favorite birthday?
My best birthday was probably when I turned 16 and got my license. Such a cliché answer, but that day wasn’t important for the obvious reasons. I remember it instead because my grandma was still around, and we celebrated it around her kitchen table. I remember riding to the DMV with my mama. I remember just feeling so special, and the world felt so right. My grandma passed away that same year, so that birthday is especially special.

4.   Something you've always wanted to do and haven't done yet?
Have babies. I want them someday. Just not today. Sometimes I get emotional thinking about how my entire life will one day revolve around these little beings I haven't even met yet. I'll just be driving down the road and think about my future son's first love, or my daughter's wedding and it makes me so happy and sad at the same time. I can't wait, but I can. Does that make sense?

5.   What was your first love?
Cheerleading. I originally wanted to try out for basketball, but my dad forgot the tryout date. I cheered for eight straight years. It was part of my identity, but I tried to never let it consume me. I eventually grew a bit tired of it, but stuck with it through high school. Through cheering, I met one of the angels of my life-Suzanne. She was my stunting partner all through school. She passed away in a car wreck in 2007. There’s a huge, blown up picture of our squad hanging in the halls of my high school. Suzanne’s arm is around me. My mom works at the school and every time she passes that picture, she thanks Suz for watching over me. This isn't that picture, but here is beautiful Suz:

i'm the one in the back with the disgusted look on her face. we just won, so i'm not sure what caused that expresion.

7.    First musical idol?

Don't judge, but Billy Ray Cyrus. All growing up, I had a poster

of him the back of my bedroom door. The poster was created at the

height of his mullet glory. It was awesome. Once, a boy at my

church liked me, and to express his deep(unrequited) love, he

mailed me a shirt screen printed with the lyrics to Achy Breaky

Heart.

source

8.   Favorite gift?

I grew up with a gap between my two front teeth. Not crazy

wide, but enough so that I could spit water through it. When I

was 17 years old, my parents gave me the best Christmas gift

ever. In my stocking was a little gift certificate for a

dentist visit--I got the gap filled in! I am all for embracing 

what makes you unique and would never recommend this procedure

for everyone, but my self esteem increased tenfold. Robert, who

knew me even way back then, will every now and then tell me he

misses the gap.

9.    If a theme song played for you everywhere you went, what would it be?

Martina McBride-Blessed. Because I am. So much.

10.    Favorite city to visit?

Chicago! My awesome uncles live there, the air and streets are

clean, and the people are friendly. There’s just a special

feeling about walking those city streets. If you are ever there,

please visit Portillo's/Barnelli's and get the chopped salad.

Just warning you-your life will be changed.

weheartit

thank you, a whole lotta love, for this fun award. the questions were thoughtful and unique, which made this fun.

robert and i are taking my brother clint this weekend to see the lovely joanna newsom play her little harp out in the north carolina mountains. enjoy your saturday, sweet friends!



friday favorite: chickens don't have nuggets

i have a strange complex with meat. i am by no means vegetarian (hello chicken and biscuits in the crockpot). but i had an experience once. an experience that scarred me from eating meat in restaurants for quite a while. it was nothing dramatic like food poisoning, but it was still utterly terrible. i was in college, eating a chicken stromboli at a place near campus. it began deliciously. the pasta sauce was deep and hearty. the stromboli was doughy and perfect.

then it happened. i bit down on it. gristle. isn't that an awful word? the onomatopoeia aspect of it its terrible. it just sounds miserable to say. i got so confused and anxious. do i spit it out? keep chewing? i think i did a little of both and didn't touch the rest of my food. for a good two years after that, i inspected every piece of meat i ate, especially chunks of chicken.

but i knew i couldn't keep on living my life this way. chicken was nothing to fear! i remembered the chicken nuggets of my childhood. at my elementary school, at a very young age, i was introduced to the best combination ever. chicken nuggets with honey. i was one of those rare birds who loved school food. i looked forward to chicken pie tuesday and lasagna thursday. there, among those stark white walls and long tables, i would gingerly dip my chicken nugget into the little plastic cup of honey, careful to ration myself, lest i run out. 

so after enough time had passed from the stromboli experience, i decided to try again. if i were ever going to love chicken again, it had to be in my favorite form-with honey. it was then and there that i discovered it. wendy's spicy chicken nuggets with honey. the nuggets were perfect. crispy on the outside, lean in the middle, with just the perfect amount of kick. pair these bad boys with some honey sauce, and you've got the perfect combination of hot and sweet. of course i prefer to take it a step further and add a frosty to balance out my meal.

i had my favorite fast food meal this wednesday. and i meant to document it. you see, i'm a new blogger and i'm still getting used to capturing my life on film. so i started in on the nuggets. i kept thinking to myself, courtney take a picture of these beauties. show your new friends this awesomeness!  but i kept shoveling them into my mouth. i.could.not.stop. not for one second. by the time i was able to pull my salivating jaw away from that tender goodness, i saw this pitiful sight:

 

which made me make this face:

the end of the honey sauce was reached. i obviously forgot my elementary school rationing techniques.

still to be neat

there is a metamorphosis i undergo daily. every evening, around 5:30, as soon as I pull up into the driveway of our cottage, a change begins to come over me. at first, it is emotional. the day begins to shed off me. all the worries, stresses, deadlines, and anxieties that manage to creep their way into my soul during the work day begin to melt. this change is strengthened into full force when pablo greets me at the door. it's so hard to focus on any.single.negative.thing when a fifteen-pound fluffball is freaking out over you-just you. just the sight of my feet at the door is enough to send him into such a tailspin that i often have to cradle him in my arms, whispering calm down, for fear his heart might beat too hard.

but once inside, the real change comes. my first step is to slip out of my high heels. home is no place for heels. i quickly head to the bedroom and put them away, trading their hardness for warm socks. then the slacks come off, then the buttoned-down shirt, replaced instead with sweatpants and a hoodie. and i spend my evenings bundled up in a decidedly unsexy, but totally comfortable mass of cotton and drawstrings. and it's not just at nights. sometimes i do this on weekends as well. last weekend, robert and i went away for a few days so he could run in his half marathon. and i forgot my makeup bag. just plain left it at home. so i went with it. i threw my hair into a bun and rocked the bare face look all day. for some reason that seems silly now, i kept apologizing to robert for my appearance. sorry babe. i know this is a big day for you. sorry i look like i don't care.

then he told me he loved me best this way. in fact, his words were "you should do this all the time. it's beautiful." what a freeing thought. what a completely, totally amazing thing. of course i still dress up and play with makeup. i'm a girlie girl and will always love the imagination and glamour that femininity affords. but it's nice to know that i can also pull on my high school sweatshirt, toe socks and leggings, and feel just as feminine.

this is my favorite poem in the world, written by ben jonson.

  Still to be neat, still to be dressed,
    As you were going to a feast;
    Still to be powdered, still perfumed:
    Lady, it is to be presumed,
    Though art's hid causes are not found,
    All is not sweet, all is not sound.

    Give me a look, give me a face
    That makes simplicity a grace;
    Robes losely flowing, hair as free:
    Such sweet neglect more taketh me
    Than all the adulteries of art;
    They strike mine eyes but not my heart.  

before his wife was "neat" or put together, he so admired her. before the makeup, the tights, the hairspray. when sweet neglect flowed all around her, that's when she was most attractive. i just love that. home is made for comfort. for dancing on wood floors together and curling up on the sofa. it's for lying in the morning, watching the sunrise, and for lying at night talking in the dark. i'm thankful my home is the place where i can look like this:

and robert still loves me. i strike his heart.