Situational comedy

Sometimes I do things that make me chuckle, although I think they are only amusing to me.

Take Tuesday, for example. I was headed to Bible study, which was just around the corner. I'm trying to walk more, since I now live near downtown. Of course, it's been like the second coming of The Flood this week in SLO, so I would have been justified if I had taken my car down the street. But I'm trying to be good, so I bundled up in hoodie, coat and thick shoes, and started walking. Before I left the house, I grabbed a spoon and dug into my roommate's cookie dough in the fridge (shhh...don't tell her.) So I'm trudging along in the rain, munching on cookie dough. I finished by the time I reached the street, but what to do with the spoon? To top it off, I couldn't find my friend's house, so there I am, wandering up and down the street, looking for this house with a spoon in my hand.

I guess you had to be there...

Church Search 2008

Over the holiday, I committed to my mother that I would start looking for a church home in January. Yikes. Why did I do that? Oh wait, I know why: 1. It's important to be a part of a church family. 2. My mother has hounded me for months, saying that my Tuesday night Bible study is not adequate to fill my need for fellowship with the Christian body. (She's half right...)

Unfortunately, I am really, really bad at this "church search" thing. I've lived three different places, and I always struggle to find a church. In fact, I'm much more apt to continue going to a church I'm not all that crazy about just to avoid a continued tedious search. I am horribly impatient like that. And lazy. Also, I like a stable core of people around me, and if I already have that elsewhere, then it's difficult to see the reasoning behind making myself uncomfortable at a church where I don't know anyone and I don't feel welcome. For those that know me, I'm not shy. I have no problem walking up and introducing myself to people, but church people, in light of my experiences, can be less friendly than the outside world. That is sad.

Let's do a study on my sad church history, shall we?

Scenario #1: My church in university was Baptist, and the college minister was pretty legalistic. He was a cool guy, but he was a bit like a bull in a china shop when it came to grace. I stayed because I made friends there, but ultimately, I got to the point where I disliked being there and felt like people were judging me. And I wasn't even really a bad gal. I just needed a touch of guidance and some accountability, not a straitjacket.

Scenario #2: In Nashville, I somehow wound up at the megachurch, maybe because I was impressed by the flash and bang of the worship. And, ahem, the famous people. Sad, I know. I felt like I grew OK there. I was super involved in the young adults ministry, and actually coordinated events. Then our leader left, the church hired someone new, and no one asked the current leadership team to help work with the new group. What's funny is God had told me to leave the church, but I kept sticking around because I didn't want to start over. Then we lost our leader. To put one final nail in the coffin, I went to the missions pastor, saying I was interested in doing missions, and he asked me, with barely concealed annoyance, "Well, what do you want me to do?" Bingo. I was out.

I got it right after that. I found the church I should have been in all along, and to be honest, I still miss everyone there terribly. I wish I could have carried the whole lot of them in my suitcase, and set up a nice church on one of the hillsides outside of San Luis Obispo. Looking back, I am amazed I still even attend church, let alone do mission work. It's just more evidence that God is gracious and merciful, and He never lets us down.

On a different note, does anyone else have the problem of getting their brain stuck on one thing for long periods of time? Any remedies for that?

State of mind

Current location: LAX (AKA Los Angeles International Airport; AKA HELL)
Currently feeling: A little sleepy, attempting to maintain calm among the crush of LaLa Land
Looking forward to: Spending time with my family for Christmas
Not looking forward to: Feeling sad about my grandmother not being around for Christmas, people asking me when I'm going to find a nice man to marry
Soundtrack in my ears: My Father is a Wandering Aramean, a sermon by Rob Bell

Long-lost cousins unite!

In the South, family is life. Who you are related to and how is an important right of passage that all Southerners must go through every time they are introduced to a random passing stranger. Usually the conversation goes something like this:

Friend: Mrs. Magoo, this is my friend Lauren.
Mrs. Magoo: So nice to meet you, Lauren. Aren't you the prettiest thing?
Me: Thanks, Mrs. Magoo. It's nice to meet you too.
Mrs. Magoo: Now, are you from around here? Do I know your mom and dad?
(To be followed by a liturgy of my family history until we establish a connection, or find that we are indeed strangers in this world.)

The latter rarely happens in a small town. Especially when you have seven uncles, one aunt and approximately 20 cousins on one side of the family, and the other side features a patriarch who built many of the houses in town. So we often move on to, "Oh, you look just like your mother did when I knew her back in 1970-something when we were working at the library together..." You get used to this, and then you proceed to do it to everyone you meet, and tradition of family is carried through into Southern eternity (which, by the way, is a lot longer than average eternity.) This is not a bad thing. It's just very interesting to observe.

Anyway, when I announced that I was moving to California (almost an unheard of practice in Lower Alabama,) member's of my father's side of the family began to say things along the lines of, "Oh, your second and third cousins live out in California," as if I was going to run into them on US-101 during a Sunday drive. I simply smiled and nodded, as if I would really ever meet this long-lost branch of my family (my granny's brothers' and sisters' children, to get specific...all nine of them.)

Well folks, I'm here to tell you that miracles do happen. I'm visiting some of said long-lost relatives this weekend. No, I didn't happen across them at the grocery store; my mom keeps in touch with one of cousins she particularly likes, and that sweet lady Claudia told my mom that she would like to meet me. So I got the number from my mom, called up Claudia, and planned a visit to Southern California. Strangely enough, it was my granny's spirit of adventure that was passed on to me through the gene pool that led me to do something so unorthodox. Now I'm surrounded by a great aunt, second and third cousins, and they all eerily give off the same Garner family traits that I see in my dad and my uncles, my cousins, my brother...and me. And even though they are four hours away, there's a comforting feeling knowing that within driving range are a batch of people that act like me, think like me and love me.

Maybe there's something to this "Who's your family?" business after all.

Thank you, thank you, thank you

I was bustling on my way to Bible study tonight, and as I passed by Gap, I happened to look up.



Can I just say God bless Gap for making their window ads ginormous. God bless them, every one.

A passing

I've been trying to write for a week now, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. My grandmother died (or as we in the South say, "passed away") last week, and I had to make an unexpected trip home to be with my family before Thanksgiving. It's been hard on me, admitting that my grandmother is gone, and that life keeps moving forward, and that we are all inevitably headed to the same fate.

Not that I grudge my grandmother's passing. She has lived with Parkinson's Disease for ten years, and she was ready to" go be with Jesus," as she would say. She is no longer suffering, and Grandmother Elsie has a new body that isn't stooped. She can let forth her girly giggle and not have it obstructed by her face that had become a mask of no expression. She's free, and she leaves all of us here with a little piece of selfishness in our hearts, wanting her back, but a little bit of relief as well, knowing that she is much better off.

I was thinking of memories of my grandmother during the funeral. I used to sit at the kitchen counter and drink "hot tea" while she listened to Dr. James Dobson. Oh, how I loathed the old fashioned organ music and the somber voice. Now days, I am thankful for the spiritual legacy she left my family. At nine years old, my grandmother realized that she needed to be in church. Her parents never took her, but she decided she was going to get up, get dressed and go. Until illness set in, and even after, she hardly ever missed a Sunday.

My Christian legacy is influenced by that day over 60 years ago. I can't help but be grateful.

Downtown oasis

I just moved to a new neighborhood, but already I have a favorite spot. Coffee shops always seem to be my social hub, no matter where I end up living, and Linnea's Cafe has all I could ask for in a coffee shop: good drinks, yummy treats, and wireless internet. These three things alone mean that I could dwell there for an indefinite amount of time (read: all day, to escape my housemates) and be good to go. My favorite bit of Linnea's is the back patio. It's a little oasis in the middle of downtown. There's a pond where some goldfish live, and a vine-covered arbor in case you need a cool place to sit. Which I could have used today, while I was sunburning down in Pismo. (75 and sunny on the Central Coast right now. Take that, suckas!) I've made several trips to the cafe already, since it's a convenient four-odd blocks away. We are internet-less at the moment, so I go to use the free goodness...well, that's only partly true. Thank you, nameless neighbors who didn't password protect their wireless modem. Anyway, when the neighbor's connection is unavailable, I saunter down the road. Jeez, i love living downtown.

New place

It's been a little while since I've written, but I've been busy, so lay off. hehe... totally kidding. I have been busy, though. We finally got a place to live in San Luis Obispo, and all my time has been taking up with moving in and setting up. After much calculation, I figured out that this was my 13th move in 10 years. Thankfully, no bad luck followed me. It's been really good, and between me and my new roommate Shells, we could outfit three houses. So we're set. We have nice neighbors in our little apartment complex too, and I can't wait to get to know some of them better.

I don't have any pictures yet, but as soon as my head stops spinning, I'll post some for your perusal.

Beauty booty

Over at Good Girl Lit, they have tagged their readers to give up their best beauty secrets. Actually, I'm a sucker for all things beauty, even though I don't have the money to go out and spend a ton on beauty supplies. I make an exception when it comes to keeping my complexion clear. For years, I used the Clinique three-step system: wash, toner, moisturizer. My problem is I am l-a-z-y when it comes to washing my face, and would sometimes skip a step in the name of speed or sleep.

I have recently discovered two shortcuts that have saved me time, and saved my face.

1. Cosmedicine Healthy Cleanse - It's a face wash and toner in one; plus, it removes eye and face makeup. You shake it up so it's nice and foamy, then scrub away.
2. Murad Correcting Moisturizer - I have light rosacea, and this green-tinted moisturizer keeps me from looking like I am eternally sunburned or overheated. The SPF 15 is an added bonus, and another step eliminated from my beauty regime.

Both of these can be purchased at Sephora, and while they are expensive, they are comparable in price when compared to the three steps of the Clinique system.

Acceptance

Tonight was Porch Night, which is a gathering of people who come together to dicuss the Bible on a porch. It's an unorthodox group, to be sure. Not all of us are Christians, and none of us have it together, and we don't pretend to. Some weeks it is utterly painful to come and hang with it and dig deep and not come up with Sunday School answers. Other weeks, the presence of God rests on us, and though we might be struggling with the deeper issues of faith, it just works.

Tonight was one of those nights. One of the guys who is not a Christian really struggles to reconcile Jesus, really cool guy, to miracle worker and savior. He believes that the miracles mentioned in the Bible are figures of speech, that they didn't really happen the way they are portrayed. He is a very analytical person who needs tangible eveidence. He's a scientist, a facts man. Several people in our group keep explaining that it's not just about facts, but faith. Many of us have seen miracles and other signs that God is real. Not that it makes us special. God has spoken to us in some way, and for whatever reason, we picked up on it and received it.

We ended up praying for this guy tonight, that his stomach, which has bothered him for years, would be miraculously healed. I don't know if God will choose to speak to him this way, but I pray that God does speak to him, that his eyes will be opened. In the meanwhile, we'll keep loving on him, this amazing brother of The Porch.

Late Bloomer

Hi, my name is Lauren, and I'm addicted to The Office. (Hi Lauren.)

So, I don't have cable TV. And I quit watching network television sometime back when Friends and Seinfeld went off the air. But not long ago, I was in Los Angeles visiting an old friend, and she was watching The Office when I got to her hotel room. My stomach was hurting I laughed so hard.

Then my roomie C brought home Season Two of The Office. C is responsible for many of my addictions (So You Think You Can Dance and The Office) and I am responsible for hers (Ticket to Ride.) I have devoured two discs thus far.

I busted a gut when Dwight delivered the Mussolini speech.

And you can't beat those moments when someone says something completely off the wall, and Jim gives the camera a look. Classic.

Wonder Dress

The girls over at Good Girl Lit asked their readers to tell about their favorite piece of clothing. Normally I would say something common like jeans, but I just bought this awesome dress from Fossil. I haven't worn it with a shirt underneath yet, because it's still warm in California, but it will work all year round. It hits my curves well and the skirt is not too full, so I don't look five months along. All I have to say is thank yoooouuuuu, Fossil. Maybe this post is shallow, but we all have something in our closet that we love because it makes us look and feel good.


La Dress

A dive off the deep end

My friend Mary wrote a nice bit about the reopening of McCarthy's, a local bar here in the Central Coast. I figured I would throw my two cents into the heap.

McCarthy's was the very first bar I visited when I first came to San Luis Obispo. The original location was super small, and crammed with people. A little tight, maybe, but you expect that. Due to the lovely California no-smoking-in-public-buildings law, however, it was smoke free, which is all a girl could ask for. I was amused to see people's faces when I told them Mary had taken me to McCarthy's. Inevitably, there was the upturned noses and the disbelief that I had been to that "dive bar." Even now that it has opened up in a newer, nicer location, resplendent with a patio and nice restrooms, people are still turning up their nose.

Apparently, these people have never been to Alabama. Dive bar takes on a whole new meaning. Let's see if I can define for you the typical college bar in Auburn, AL. The venerable War Eagle Supper Club has lived by this motto for more than 30 years: "Cold beer, hot rock, expect no mercy." And indeed, you'll get no mercy here. The shows are amazing, but so is the line to get inside and the line to the ladies room. Which, by the way, qualifies as an adventure unto itself. Until they were recently removed to comply with fire codes, band T-shirts also hung from the rafters. Every surface is sticky, or graffitied, or both. And this is where I spent many a Saturday night after an Auburn victory, strutting in my finest and dancing along to the Velcro Pygmies.

Or take the Strutting Duck, for example. Often referred to as a redneck bar, it's a great place to go play pool if you want to escape the crowds way out on Wire Road. If you can stand the smoke-filled atmosphere, linoleum floors and ag students in boots with Skoal rings in their back pocket.

And if you got a sandwich craving in the middle of your 2 a.m. cram session, there was Momma Goldberg's. More a deli than a bar, it still hosted tons of frat boys filling up on Momma's Love sandwiches and swilling beer. *A moment's pause to contemplate the joy that is a steamed sammy from Momma G's...mmmm* The walls are a jumbled collection of old Auburn schedule posters for everything from football to swimming, signed photographs of old Auburn players, and newspapers touting victories from the 1980's. Everyone fights for chairs to place around the rickety formica tables, and the place boasts at least three TV's so as not to miss any of the post-game action. It's a block from Jordan-Hare Stadium, making it a prime spot to congregate after the game.

These and others were the places I thrived on, the villages where I would meet up with buddies and listen to good music, debate the latest wins and losses, and maybe dance with a good-looking guy from the swim team. And every last one of them where 10 times more "divey" than McCarthy's.

But you know, McC's definitely is a kindred spirit. Maybe that's why I liked it when I first walked inside. I recognized the same village mentality, the mix and flow that is the local spot. Old and young mixed with the tough looking dudes smoking in the courtyard. Beer in a can, and Guiness for the Irish inside us. And I can't help but smile.

This is a shoutout to my roomies. I am so thankful for their wisdom when I am in over my head. They help me do photo shoots, they make me laugh, and they put up with me even when my room looks like I was conducting World War III, and then a tornado blew through. And they do things like this:



(Don't worry, C. I didn't put up the really funny picture.

Answered prayers

'Round these parts, my brain is feeling a bit like it is in a blender stuck on "frappe." But I can't complain, because God is good. I have a couple of answered prayers and updates in the middle of all the nuttiness.

Update #1 - After searching for a place to live for two months, with numerous changes to the number of roommates who would moving in, when they would be moving in, etc., we have a place to live. It's not in San Luis Obispo, but at the moment, SLO housing is difficult to come by. So as a compromise, me and the ladies will be moving to a house just off the 101 in Grover Beach. This couple that used to work at the YWAM base here are moving to Colorado, and they needed someone to take over their lease.
Update #2 - The same family that gave us a place to live is giving us most of their furniture! So I now have a couch, an end table, two ugly lamps, one tall floor lamp and some other random goodness. Yay, yay, yay!
Update #3 - For those who live in the Nashville area, I will be coming for a visit from October 16-22. If you want to see me, please, please e-mail or call me. I have the same number I had in Nashville.

I think that's it for now. Stay tuned for a moving essay about Mr. Rogers.

My point exactly

Today my roommate found out something about someone on their Myspace that she didn't previously know. She was in our kitchen, ranting about how the world no longer has normal conversations. My brilliant comment from the living room:

"You should write a blog about that."

Doh.

War Eagle!

WAR EAGLE, FLY DOWN THE FIELD!
EVER TO CONQUER, NEVER TO YEILD!
WAR EAGLE, FEARLESS AND TRUE,
FIGHT ON YOU ORANGE AND BLUE!
GO! GO! GO!

*realizes everyone is reading*

Sorry about that. Auburn beat No. 4-ranked Florida yesterday, and I'm still celebrating.

They get stuck, and they won't go away

News Flash: I have officially become a "creepy guy magnet." *

I went to Downtown Brew to get my college football fix last Saturday. I must have looked like such a sports nerd. I had the Alabama-Georgia game on the screen in front of me, the stats from the Auburn-New Mexico State on my computer screen (thank you, DTB, for wireless internet!) and a head phone in one ear to catch the AU commentary. Yep. I am a complete football dork. But I currently do not have cable, nor will I in the near future, so I do what I have to do.

In this state, however, I am alluring to washed-up salesmen who have had one too many to drink. No really. This 30-year-old dude (He showed me his license because I didn't believe him) comes up out of nowhere and starts asking me all these questions about why I have a computer, and what am I watching, blah, blah, blah. And dang if I didn't let him keep talking. Maybe it's a signal of how desperate I am for someone to join me in my Saturday football craziness, but I let the guy chat. And chat. Then the Bame-UGA game went into overtime, and he said he was happy because he would get to hang out with me longer.

I think I've got to quit being nice to random guys.

* Batteries not included.

The case of the missing notebook

My talent for losing things has reached its pinnacle. My photography notebook, with all my film, contact sheets and notes, has somehow disappeared. I have no clue where it has gone. All I know is that it was in my house yesterday afternoon, when I showed my roommate Cindy some pictures I had taken of her. From there I believe the little green devil migrated down the hall to Cindy's room with the rest of my stuff, because we had guests last night, and I was sleeping in her room. When I looked for it this morning, it was gone.

HOW in the name of all that is holy does this happen? I mean, it's not like I dropped my keys somewhere, or my cell phone. It's an average sized green notebook with pictures jammed into it. A little hard to miss. So much for going to class...instead I get to play Nancy Drew.

Well, grunt, grunt, hello to you too!

For the last three weeks or so, I have been searching for a new house in San Luis Obispo. No, I'm not mad at my current roommates; we just have new staff coming in a couple of weeks, and we need a place for them. So far, the process has been painful and not very much fun, but I am trusting that God will bring something in His timing.

During this housing crisis, I have talked with just about every major property management company in town. There seems to be a common theme developing with all of them...There are some seriously disgruntled front desk workers in the realm of rentals. Here is a common exchange between me and the surly secretaries:
Me: Yes, I'm calling about 1234 Elm Street.
Surly Secretary: (silence)
Me: Is it still available for rent?
SS: *grunt* Um, I'm not sure.
Me: Oh, OK. Can you look it up for me, please?
SS: (With barely concealed resentment) I'll have to call you back.
*Phone slams*

Maybe it's just me, but the last time I checked, I'm renting something from you. Which should lend itself to courtesy being extended to interested renters, even if you do earn minor ducats at a thankless job in a college town. I'm just saying.