Closing time

I go through phases where I analyze different aspects of my life, and lately I've been thinking about this blog. And I realized a few things:

1. Only about a half dozen people actually read this blog (and half of those, I believe, are family).
2. Most of what I write is not really of much interest/importance to the general public (as 99% of my posts spark zero commentary).
3. Anything I have to say that is of importance/interest, I could just share directly with that half dozen of friends and family, instead of posting it on a public blog.

Meaning that--this blog is pretty much unnecessary. It is kind of a sad realization, because I think that we all like to believe, at some level, that our every thought and musing should be infinitely interesting to others, and that everyone who stumbles upon our writings would be instantly hooked, and we'd soon have so many followers, we'd be rivaling dooce in popularity.

But, I know that I do not fall under that description. I lead a quiet, insignificant life that is only interesting to myself and a very small, select group of others. And that's ok.

So, I am suspending my blog. I don't have the heart to delete it entirely just yet, as it contains elements of a journal of the past four years for me, and I sometimes like to look back on those old stories. But, this is my final post.

For those of you who have read regularly or who have stumbled upon this blog and taken time to look around, thank you. If I know you well, I will still be sharing my musings with you, just in different ways.

thanks and love,
Aunt TT

two years

Two years of sharing: time, laughter, meals, home improvement projects, secrets, a bed, songs, car rides, drinks, kisses, responsibilities, ideas, sicknesses, hugs, bills, disagreements, adventures, friends, family, chores, inside jokes, tears, dogs, dances, trips, pictures, holidays, porch swings, games, celebrations, and lots and lots of love.

Or, as I would have written in fourth grade:
2 people
+ 2 gether
= 4 ever

Happy 2 years, honey--I love you bunches!

superfluity

Sometimes, you buy things just because they make you smile:

(meet my impulse buy from Hobby Lobby on Saturday)

Fall-ing in Love

How do I love Autumn in Nashville? Let me count the ways:

* Shakespeare in the Park
* Live on the Green
* Greek Festival
* Fall TACA Arts Fair
* Wine on the River
* Oktoberfest
* Southern Festival of Books
* HallowEast

Sure, September and October are my crazy-busy months at work...but they are also the months when the heat finally drops below hell-levels, and countless festivals and impromptu backyard bbqs fill in the beautiful, temperate weekend hours.

I love inhaling the crisp, clean air...
I love watching the trees change into their red and gold finest, like they're putting on party dresses...
I love picking out the funkiest, misshapen gourds at the farmer's market...
I love sitting by a fire pit, sipping wine under the stars...

I. Love. Fall.

"O" is for overshare

When you have a platform from which you can share all of the minutiae of your life with anyone who wants to read it, there's always the temptation to overshare. It's just there. And I think I am falling into that temptation with this post, so I will go ahead and warn you: if you have any problems with reading about bodily fluids or things that are of a womanly nature, you probably want to stop reading HERE.

You've been warned now.

So, since I got back from Africa, Todd and I have opened ourselves up to the possibility of having children. Which basically means that I went off birth control. And that was over a month ago. Notice I said over a month ago. And nothing regular has happened since then, but my body has been feeling all sorts of strange, and I've been an emotional rollercoaster, and I've realized just how much that tiny little pill regulated my body for 10 years.

So, since nothing regular has happened, I decided I should probably take a pregnancy test, just to be sure.

And ladies, I am here to tell you that peeing on a stick is not easy. Seriously. Take the difficulty of peeing in a cup and multiply it by oh, 175. Because as we all know, a woman's urine stream is not predictable. For a man, he can just point and shoot, and it pretty much goes wherever he aims. Not for a woman. It can start off one way, and then all of a sudden, it's like a gust of wind just sweeps through the toilet bowl and sends it in an entirely different direction.

And here's the thing, the instructions of the pregnancy test say that you need to hold that stick in your stream for exactly five seconds--no more, no less--because if you get too much or too little on the stick it can cause a false reading. What the...? Sorry, but when your pee stream is as unpredictable as Sarah Palin on crack, how are you supposed to make that happen? I don't know about you, but I am definitely not that coordinated. If I meet a woman who can follow those instructions exactly, I will shake her hand (after, of course, she has washed it). Who knew that peeing would be the most stressful part of the whole pregnancy test experience?

All I can say is, thank God that Todd was not awake for all of that, or he most certainly would have been making fun of me the entire time. In a loving way, of course.

So, there you have it...my total overshare. I feel better now, having gotten it out of my system.



What--you were wondering about the results of the test? Hmmmmm....

Nine

My lovely niece (she who changed my name to TT) turns nine today. It seems like just yesterday that I witnessed her birth (although, that's probably because witnessing a birth is one of those images/experiences that you don't soon forget--it etches itself into your brain, so it is always a salient memory).

But, in those nine short years, she has turned into a beautiful, witty, mature, confident, caring, intelligent young lady, and I am so proud of her.

Happy Birthday, KK!

home

I've been back in the states now for almost 48 hours--and my body seems to be adjusting very well from the jet lag, although my mind and heart are still busy processing everything that happened in the past two weeks.

The trip was truly incredible--much better than we ever could have imagined. The students we traveled with were wonderful, and we had no illnesses, no injuries, and no problems. Everyone worked well together, and we accomplished much in a short time.

As I sit here remembering, it is the faces that keep running through my mind. The children, the warriors, the teachers, the mothers.

The Maasai men who were our guardians on the mara:
Nalotwesha, the woman who showed up every day to help us work:Beautiful Joice, my friend with the sweet smile:Moses, whose singing voice was so lovely and piercing, it could break your heart:


...and so many more. So many faces and stories that I will not soon forget.

I will try to write more about the trip soon--for now, I am still in a bit of a daze and trying to get back to the grind of daily life here.

But--I am home.

mimi ni tayari

In five days, I will be on my way. If you need me, I will be here:

Specifically, we will be on the Shompole Ranch, which is located on the border of Kenya and Tanzania, between the Masai Mara Game Reserve and the Amboseli National Park, just north of Lake Natron.

You can keep up with the journey by visiting http://ensworth-kenya-2010.blogspot.com/. The first post should appear next Monday, once we have arrived in Nairobi.

I'll see you back here in mid-July with my own stories and pictures. Until then, kwaheri rafiki.

final countdown

Three weeks from today...I will be in Kenya.

I spent the weekend shopping and pulling together items for the packing list: sleep sack, hiking boots, work gloves, headlamp, bandanas, first aid kit, dry shampoo, etc. Packing for two full weeks of camping in Africa is daunting. I just know I'm going to be the person who forgets something vital, like sunscreen.

The only item I haven't purchased yet is the 30% (or higher) DEET insect repellent that is recommended. Reading the back of the bottles scares me. Anything with a high level of DEET carries warnings like "Do not spray on any synthetic materials." (ummm--like most clothing?) Or, "May damage leather." If something is strong enough to damage leather, do I really want to spray it on my skin? I'm struggling with this one. Spray really hazardous materials on my skin--or risk getting bitten by a potential malaria-carrying mosquito? I'm looking into other options...

While I am there, I will have zero access to phones, email, etc., but WLS is going to maintain a trip blog so that our friends and family back home can keep up with what we are doing. I'll post that link before we leave.

Oh, and did I mention that I AM SO STINKIN' EXCITED? Because I am. I most certainly am.

this is when those touch-typing lessons come in handy

Right now, I can't even see what I'm typing.

I lost a contact lens this morning at work, and it was only then that I realized how smart it would have been to have stored a back-up set somewhere in my office (they always say that hindsight is 20/20. Haha! That seems especially appropriate here.) Because my vision is so poor, I had to take the other lens out as well--otherwise I would be walking around all day feeling like I have some sort of crazy vertigo.

So how blind am I? Let's just say that the font on my computer screen has to be THIS BIG* in order for me to read it while sitting here (without having to lean in really close). And those letters are actually still really blurry to me, but I can at least tell what the words are.

I had to get a coworker to tell me if the goopy stuff on the salad bar was tuna salad or chicken salad. And it turns out that the squash casserole I thought I was dishing onto my plate was actually corn casserole. Still good, though. (Ironically, we usually have a lunch menu, but today was "What You See is What You Get." Haha! Joke's on me.)

So, I'll be sitting here, squinting at my screen, trying to identify the people who walk past my office (I think that one was a man), attempting not to eat meat accidentally, and probably sending emails with lots of typos in them...until my husband comes to take me home from work. (Lord knows I can't drive myself like this. I'd be up under a semi truck before I even realized it was in front of me.)

Maybe now is a good time to consider Lasik.

*For some reason, when my post publishes, this font doesn't show up as big as it does in the composing phase. So just imagine that those words are in font size 72.

unfortunate proof that fortune cookies lie

So I take my little sis Nai'Imma out for Chinese yesterday, and the message in my fortune cookie reads:

"Be generous, and the favor will be returned to you within the week."

And I think to myself, huh. Well, I feel like I've been pretty generous this week, trying to support flood relief efforts with both my volunteer time and my money. So maybe this little fortune is a sign of good things to come.

And then I get home to discover that someone has busted apart our fence (literally, ripped boards off of the wood fence) so they could get in our backyard and steal our new lawnmower.

I think I want a refund on my fortune.

the flood, part two

(for part one, scroll down to previous entries)

As I continue to think about all of the things I have seen over the past week, that word overwhelming keeps popping up. The overwhelming waters. The overwhelming destruction. The overwhelming loss and grief.

But overwhelming can be positive as well, and I have seen that connotation of the word in action, too. The overwhelming spirit of these ravaged communities. The overwhelming volunteer response. The overwhelming outpouring of donations and support.

Lots of people complained that the national news was ignoring us. The lack of coverage was a hot topic for many Facebook/Twitter status updates and blog posts. And yes, it was a little frustrating that something so huge, so tragic (so, well, overwhelming) for Nashville was barely a blip on the national news radar. But at the same time, it didn't really matter that they didn't care. We were taking care of ourselves. People were pumping water out of their houses and then turning around and helping pump water out of their neighbor's homes. Within a couple of days, Hands on Nashville had more than 15,000 people sign up to help with flood relief. 15,000 local people signing up with a local organization to help our neighbors that were affected. With that much local love, it really didn't seem as important whether or not someone in California knew about the situation. Because we all knew. And we were taking care of it.

One of Todd's out-of-state friends commented that people in Nashville were being "drama queens" about the situation. From his perspective, we were all just whining about a bunch of rain. So, I guess that was one negative effect of the lack of coverage--many people outside of Nashville didn't think the situation was that bad...because if it wasn't on the national news, it couldn't have been that big or that serious, right?

But...it was. And it is. And it will continue to be for awhile. Rebuilding will take time. Because of the amazing efforts of our incredible community, lots of work has already been done...but our city still faces a long road to recovery.

Right now, we are in a waiting period. Waiting for all of the scrap piles to be picked up from the road sides. Waiting for the houses to dry out before rebuilding can begin. Waiting for inspectors to determine what is salvageable. Waiting for aid to come in before supplies can be purchased. Waiting for our water treatment plants to be fully functioning again. Some people are still waiting to see if their loved ones lost in the flood waters will ever be found.

It will take some time before things return to a sense of "normal". For a long time, these flooded families will cringe when they see rain in the forecast. For a long time, we will all eye the Cumberland River suspiciously, wondering if it could turn on our city again. For a long time, we will remember the images we have seen, and the neighbors we have hugged, and the tears we have shared with those who lost so much.

And for a long, long time, we will know how fortunate we are to be a part of such a strong, supportive, loving, giving community.

May 1st, 2010. A flood of water...that turned into a flood of support...that gave rise to a flood of hope.

If you would like to help, visit the following links:

The Nashville Red Cross

Hands on Nashville

The Community Foundation

Donate Nashville

water conservation

Things I've learned this week:

1. You can shave your legs with 2 cups of water.

2. You can shampoo your hair with 4 cups of water.

3. You can go over a week without washing dishes if you get take-out most nights.

4. Your dogs love you even more when you're stinky.

5. You can use a lot less water when your hot water heater isn't working.

the flood, part one

Dear God. Where do I start?

The last week in Nashville has been surreal. Overwhelming. Unprecedented. All of these words have been used by others to describe what has happened. And yet, no words can describe what has happened.

Saturday night, I stood under a tent in the rain at a crawfish boil, trying to eat as many of the little buggers as possible, cognizant that the oil spill in the gulf would likely obliterate the chances of having fresh crawfish again anytime soon.

On Sunday, the concern about crawfish seemed a distant memory.

At first, we were concerned about our own little plot of land. We noticed we had two inches of water in the basement. Then, an hour later, it had become 15 inches. And rising. So I began calling every store that might sell sump pumps, only to find that they were sold out. Everywhere. And that's when I began to realize the problem was widespread--and our basement was not the only thing that was flooding.

Then, there were the images on the news. A portable trailer floating down I-24. The Harpeth River rising to meet the school where I work. The houses covered in water. And rain continuing to fall. And water continuing to rise. And cars in water, people in water, houses in water, landmarks in water.

It was the train-wreck you couldn't turn away from. Except that it was the train-wreck happening in your back yard. You could sit there watching it on the television, but you could also feel the pain echoing right outside your front door.

First, it was the 100-year flood. Then it became the 500-year flood. Then some even dared to call it the 1,000-year flood. But no matter how many years were attached to it, one thing was clear--it was a major flood that was affecting thousands of people right now.

I admit, the first two days, I spent transfixed to the TV. I watched the footage--almost trying to believe it couldn't be true. Especially on Monday, when the weather was sunny and absolutely gorgeous--it was the perfect spring day. But devastation was just two miles away. And that beautiful sun was dancing upon the very waters that were causing so much destruction.

Then, on the third day, I went into the heart of the beast. After the waters receded, I went to help some co-workers who lived in the neighborhoods that were featured on the local news stories--the neighborhoods where you could only see the roofs sticking out of the water.

Driving down those streets felt like driving through a really terrible miles-long rummage sale. Every household had piled furniture, clothing, appliances, etc. out by the curb. No matter what significance these things held or memories they represented, they were now contaminated goods. Trash. The sadness in the air was heavier than the humidity.

And that's when I realized--you can see the images in the media--you can think you understand the gravity of the situation. But until you meet those families. Until you get up close and personal with the destruction. Until you see the baby clothes covered in slime, and the photographs morphed into abstract watercolors, and the antique family furniture propped on the trash pile.

Until then...you have no idea.

(to be continued)

sweet spring

I went for a walk/jog in the park yesterday, and I noticed that all of the honeysuckle was blooming. I know that, to some people, honeysuckle is just an invasive weed-vine, but I can't help myself--I love it. To me, honeysuckle smells like childhood. I remember pinching the blossoms off the vine with my tiny fingers and slooooowly pulling out the stems, carefully trying to extract that single, sweet drop of nectar. It almost felt like sneaking candy.

The blooms yesterday were not quite mature enough to sample, but maybe they'll be ready in time for my next walk. The first desserts of spring. I can already taste it.

two of a kind

This is what happens when two of my favorite people get together:

(click image to enlarge and get a close-up view of just how nutty they are. By the way, they chose the title for the photo strip, not me. I would have gone with Goofy and Goofier. I'm just not sure which one would be which.)

sibling revelry

Honestly, it isn't quite fair for this many cool people to be in one family...

(and look--we managed to arrange ourselves oldest to youngest, left to right, without even meaning to. We're so in sync.)

pinata parade

We're having a Mexican-themed dinner at work, so I did an online search for a tiger pinata. And what I discovered in my search is that there are a whoooooole lotta pinata fails out there. I mean, you wouldn't even believe it. Which is why I have pictures to show you.

Guess what this is:


Give up? It's listed as a "cowboy boot." I promise that is not the first thing I thought of when I saw this image.

Next up, we have "dolphin" pinata:


Which looks to me like a cross between Pinocchio and Marvin the Martian--don't you think?


"Cake" pinata belongs over on the Cake Wrecks blog.


I'm trying to figure out why "dreidel" pinata is flipping me off.

I feel like if I rub "football" pinata, a genie might pop out.

"High heel" pinata looks like a bed you find in one of those cheesy honeymoon chalets. With tiny pink pillows.


"Smiling Dave" pinata really needs to put some clothes on. Or he might get re-named "pedophile" pinata. Seriously, he's naked and he seems far too happy about it. It creeps me out.

Suppositories come in red now? Oh wait, that's just "chili pepper" pinata.

Shouldn't I feel bad about beating up a United States army tank with a stick? It just seems unpatriotic. Maybe this is a big seller in other countries.

There's that tube sock I lost! ("hockey puck" pinata)

I think this must be a"squirrel" that has ingested too much high fructose corn syrup. And possibly nuclear gases.

And finally, there's "banana" pinata.

I'm not even going to touch that one with a stick...

salivating

This restaurant is on the verge of opening just 2 blocks from my house.

A new restaurant? With specialty cocktails and dishes prepared with local, seasonal food? And Laura Wilson is involved? And it's all walkable from my house?

How many different ways can I say, "Yes, please!"?

I'm so excited.

morning happy

If this video doesn't make you smile at least a little bit, then, dude, I'm really sorry that you're dead.

tuesday night cable

I'm always really bad at putting together "Top 10" lists of favorite books, movies, television shows, etc., because there are just so many possibilities, and I am terrible about limiting myself. As soon as I come up with ten, I am sure to think of an eleventh that deserves a top slot for one reason or another. Let's just call me indecisive.

But, I have to say--every time I catch "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" on cable, I am reminded of how much I really enjoy this movie. The characters are colorful, the dialogue is clever, and the journey is amusing. It kind of makes me want to stock up on Dapper Dan for no good reason and R-U-N-N-O-F-T to Tishomingo.

Say what you will about the Coen brothers--they have their hits and misses--but this movie could be a solid eleventh, or better, in my book.

two T's is two 3's

I love birthdays. Seriously. I don't quite understand people who dread their birthdays or refuse to celebrate them. The way I see it, I've been blessed with another full year of life, and I'm going to celebrate the heck out of it. Another year? Bring it on. I will happily wear it like a badge of honor.

Whenever my birthday falls on a Monday, I take it as an excuse to celebrate the entire weekend before--a full Friday-through-Monday birthday extravaganza. And it helped that this weekend held some of the most glorious weather Nashville has seen in the past few months.

(soaking up the bee-yoo-tiful Saturday afternoon, lying on the front porch swing, sipping wine, and wearing my new birthday kicks.)

It was a fabulous weekend that included bowling, a European spa facial, pedicures, margaritas at Rosepepper, dinner at Allium, a bonfire, and lots of relaxing...and it culminated in a super-duper surprise party at the skating rink.

Thank you to my wonderful husband and fabulous friends and family who contributed to make this birthday extra-special. I love you all!

Why Fakebook won't last

Facebook won't last.

Knowing that doesn't require the skills of a Nostradamus--it's pretty much inevitable. Just as other social sites have fallen by the wayside (Friendster, MySpace, etc.), Facebook will follow. I'm not saying anything profound with that statement, so I want to focus instead on why I think it will fail.

I don't think that Facebook will fail due to administrative error--the problem won't be due to any bad decisions that Zuckerberg or anyone else makes. It won't fail because it will suddenly be flooded with spammers and pornsters, one of the issues that plagued MySpace. It won't even fail by simply losing its novelty.

I believe that Facebook will ultimately fail because it is ultimately fake.

Most people on Facebook have upwards of 100 or 200 "friends." I've even seen some friend counts approaching 1,000. These friends are people that you (presumably) know in some way, and you have granted them access to your information, your photos, and your status updates. But how much further does it really go than that?

In the past week, I've seen some pretty intense status updates. One friend was mugged, beaten up, and had her car stolen. How many of her 400 friends commented with condolences or well wishes? About 20. Another friend lost a beloved grandparent. How many of his 500+ friends sent their sympathy? A dozen or so.

Now, granted--some of the close friends probably opted to show their support in other ways (phone calls, visits, etc.)-- but the majority of those 400 or 500 people aren't close friends. They are aquaintances who call themselves friends...and yet they didn't even take a couple of seconds to say "I'm sorry" or "Thinking of you." Ouch.

Another example is birthdays. Facebook actually offers the service of notifying you a couple of days in advance when any of your friends are about to celebrate a birthday--which leaves you with zero excuses for not wishing someone a happy birthday. And yet, the last time my birthday rolled around, I think I received about 10 birthday wishes from my 250+ friends. That's about 4% representin'. And based on my studies of other people's profiles and their birthday wishes, that seems to be pretty standard across the board.

So I believe that Facebook's failure will lie in its fakeness. I know that I personally am tiring of it. My 250+ number mocks me in a way, because I know that if I whittled the list down to my true friends-- down to the people that I could call at 2am if I needed them--the number would be much closer to 20 or so. So why have the extra 200-ish?

It's a question I have been pondering heavily lately (perhaps because I am on the doorstep of another birthday). As I get older, I am feeling the need to focus more on what's real, what's true, and what's really, truly important. And I believe that this movement in my soul is a natural progression.

In a world where so much is "virtual", I believe that we will begin to see more value being placed on things that are real. Real handwritten letters. Real experiences. Real relationships.

Which is why I believe that I am not the only person who will become disillusioned with Facebook. In the "real" revolution, there will be a sea change. And person by person, friend by fake friend, Facebook will fall.

And honestly, I think we'll all be better for it.

sea change

Was it really November when I last posted? Goodness. I could probably be charged with blog-neglect. Well, it's a new year with new beginnings, so let's just start fresh, shall we?

For a while now, my dad has been encouraging me to read the book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. I added it to the already long list of "Books other people have recommended to me," figuring that I would get to it eventually. Eventually finally arrived about a month ago, when I was on a Costco trip with a friend, and I noticed the book in a pile on one of the book tables. We both ended up buying a copy, and I finally cracked open the cover a couple of weeks ago and began reading.

And I was instantly addicted.

By "addicted", I don't mean that I found it to be an enthralling page-turner that I couldn't put down, or that I read it straight through in a matter of hours. Instead, I became addicted to the idea of the book--the philosophy that the book is based on. If you haven't heard about AVM yet, here's a synopsis: Kingsolver and her family (husband and two girls) move from Tuscon, Arizona to a farmhouse in Virginia. For one year, they vow that they will only eat food that they have grown or that has been produced locally, and the book is largely a memoir of their experience.

Now, I have always considered myself more of a city girl than a country girl, and I tend to cringe when people talk about buying land and moving out into the country. The idea of a house and land in the middle of nowhere has never been particularly appealing to me.

Until now.

After reading AVM, I want to live on a farm. I want to grow all of my own vegetables, bake my own bread, make my own cheeses. I want to know the people that are responsible for the food I eat. I want to be friends with a dairy farmer and meet the cows that are producing the milk I use. I basically want to fall off the grid of corporate food culture.

Off course, it is doubtful that Todd and I will be uprooting and moving to a farm anytime soon, but I can now see it as a possibility--even a desirable possibility--for the future. And in the meantime, I am going to plant a garden in the backyard this spring, buy more produce from the farmer's market, and stop relying on Kroger for the food I put into my body.

And I'm also going to start making my own cheese, beginning with mozzarella. I'll let you know how it goes...