You Break It, You Buy It?

Hobby Lobby is like a china shop just tempting bulls to navigate gracefully through its aisles without shattering any of its kitschy gems. I fell victim to Hobby Lobby's glass delights today. Yes I identify myself as victim as opposed to perpetrator because 1. Hobby Lobby displays some of their most fragile items in the most precarious of positions (glass atop full displays made of what? glass) and 2. with almost half of their merchandise being breakable, the odds of breakage are stacked against the shopper. Despite these facts the incident in aisle 15 today became of full on moral dilemma.

The item in question: a set of 6 tiny decorative terra cotta pots wrapped in plastic. The incident: while perusing other breakables, the package that had been nestled cozily in the crick of my elbow, fell to the floor when I extended my arm while reaching for another item. It was more of a crunch that a crash as the broken pieces stayed contained inside of the loose packaging. Embarrassed by my fault and recognizing that others had been witnessed to the droppage, I made a heavy sigh and said aloud in a clear voice for all to hear, "Oh no!" I picked up my shattered terra cotta and played it cool for the next few minutes maintaining focus on the merchandise I had been looking at. I already made up my mind that I would exchange out this package of 6, yes all 6 broke, for an entirely new package. But I didn't want other shoppers to see me rush back to aisle 15 to swap out the damaged goods. After a lap around the store, I made the swap. I slyly put the broken package behind the unharmed sets and made my way to the register. I stood in line thinking, "This girl is going to restock this item, see the broken package, and remember me buying the good ones. She'll know. She'll be able to spot me next time I come in." The guilt was extremely out of proportion to the crime.

As I walked back to my car, the rationalizations began, "It only cost $2.17. They must have loss built into their annual budget what with all the fragile items they have in stock. I could have offered to pay for it, but I'm sure they would have told me not to worry about it. There were other broken ones too, not the whole package, but some." They were all just a bunch of excuses where I was trying to make myself feel better for 1. doing something crummy and 2. doing something maybe even crummier...covering up the first crummy thing. So what is the stance on this dilemma. Are we still living under the archaic policy of you break it, you buy it? What should I do with this guilt? Will I be struck down for my dishonesty? Was I actually dishonest about anything, or is a little breakage normal? Will this come back to me in a sort of karma way like I'll be victim to a hit and run? It's too much. I should have just forked out the extra $2.17 as atonement and ended the whole ordeal. Instead I'll carry around the burden of it till who knows when.

You Know You're Having a House Guest When..

You know you're having a house guest when you vacuum the stairs.

If you know me, you know I don't clean. Not because I'm a prima donna or have a cleaning lady (I wish! Is it wonderful Brea?), but because I'm just a generally untidy person. I don't clean, but I should clean. My friend Abbie took us up on our offer to stay at our house and we couldn't be more excited to have her under the same roof as our family. I love having people over, but I am embarrassed by the current filth. So I began the undertaking of project clean house tonight and before I knew it I had our Hoover balanced on a step and I was going to town with the hose attachment. (I feel like there's a dirty joke somewhere in there so I'll just get that off my chest before someone else giggles at my expense.) I don't know about other people's cleaning regimens, but vacuuming the stairs is not part of our normal routine. Vacuuming the stairs signifies that someone special is on their way. Only an out of town guest is worthy of a lint free romp up the steps. I realize that this symbol of vacuumed stairs comes from my experience growing up.

My mom always kept our house clean, but she pulled out all the stops when company was in town. Aunts and uncles or the rare visit from my grandma meant every surface was dusted an additional time, every glass pane shined up extra special, and those usually neglected stairs got their day in the sun with a fresh vacuuming. Vacuum cleaners used to be a lot heavier when I was younger making an already awkward location that much more difficult to clean. Thus us kids were often assigned the task. My mom would haul the vacuum halfway up and leave us to stretch the hose as far as we could before returning to move it up the stairway a little further before fully completing the chore. I hated this job. I hated chores in general, though I rarely had to do much of anything. I didn't do a single load of laundry until college. I had to learn how to use a washing machine the summer before leaving for Mizzou. Even then I would usually just save up my dirty clothes and bring them home when visiting for the weekend for dear ol' mom to take care of. She's a real gem.

Back to the vacuuming...Recalling my time spent on stairways is a happy memory despite my distaste for the task. You see the vacuuming was always saved for the very end of the chores. This way the carpet looked oh so fresh for the visitors' arrival before getting mussed up by footprints. Similar to Pavlov's dog, the sound of the vacuum triggers feelings of anticipation. At any moment our guests could pull up and I'd hear the ding dong of our doorbell at which point a joyous reunion would ensue. I can just picture my extended family shuffling through the doorway as I am still rolling the vacuum back into the closet. Legs are stretching, backs cracking, yawning, and wiping off the remains of cramping from the long road trip into town. My oldest sister lives 2 states away and before she had kids she visited less often than she does now. Needless to say her visits were a big deal and my mom demonstrated this with her cleaning routine. Back then Amy had the red carpet rolled out (and vacuumed) for her arrival. My second sister used to get the vacuum treatment when she came home from college. By the time I was a coed the pomp and circumstance of vacuumed stairs had ended (at least for visits from immediate family). I vaguely remember one of the sisters complaining that "Mom doesn't clean for my visits like she does for yours." Whichever sister the complaint came from I'm sure was noticing the lack of vacuumed stairs. If you think I'm exaggerating trust me when you grow up vacuuming those suckers, it's the type of thing you notice.

I may not have picked up my mom's cleanliness or cooking ability, but I did get nostalgic today realizing that I carry on at least one tradition. Who knew that tradition would be vacuuming the stairs.

The skin of a 16 year old

I went to the dermatologist today and did some soul searching in the waiting room. As I was filling out my patient information sheet I had to list my age, problem, and how long I've been suffering from said affliction. My age: 28. My problem: acne. Years suffering from problem: 12! The first time I went to the dermatologist I was 16 years old. This would be a normal season of life to visit the skin doctor: braces, frizzy hair, acne, all simple rites of passage for the average adolescent. The braces were removed, the frizzy hair was remedied thanks to the glorious advent of the Chi flat iron, but the acne has remained. Through high school graduation, college graduation, even marriage, it has been a loyal companion accompanying me through all of life's momentous events.

Maybe it's been a gift as it helps me continue to relate with the woes of the high schoolers I work with. But ill be turning 30 soon and I'd love to mark that occasion acne free. So let's pray this is the end of an era for me. Now that I've given my poor skin testimony worthy of a proactiv commercial, I'll end my rant.

Doppelgangers but in a gross reality show way

The Hills After Show was on tonight (no I didn't watch it, really I didn't, I'm being serious), I just need to document something I've noticed since its inception a few years ago. The hosts Jessie and Dan are bizarro Joni and Daniel. Joni is the general manager of the store Daniel works at. I mean c'mon...Jessie-Joni. Dan-Daniel, it's the same name for pete's sake! Weird, just weird.

The Joy and Loss of Graduation

Yesterday we watched our YL kids graduate from West and then volunteered at Project Grad (an all-night event for the graduating seniors). I knew there was going to be a hypnotist there and was more excited about that than anything else. Some of the moms knew of my excitement, so they relieved us from our post early so we could be sure to catch the entire show. It did not disappoint. After I stopped being cynical and was completely convinced of its authenticity, I was giddy with laughter and amusement. A few of the kids we know well were up front as volunteers. Knowing them so well helped me to realize how genuine their performances were. The highlight for sure was an exchange between one kid who believed himself to be a Martian only capable of speaking Martian-ese, our YL kid Hartzell who thought himself the interpreter, and a girl who performed sign language translating the conversation.

As the hypnotist spoke into his cordless mic that was mounted on a neck brace harmonica style (I still have no idea why he didn't use a more discreet lapel mic, but to each his own), he asked the audience for volunteers and though these kids just completed the rite of passage into adulthood of high school graduation, they jumped up and down raising their hands like an elementary class of eager students. As the selected volunteers up front went deeper and deeper into their trance, they seemed more and more vulnerable...and innocent. It was kind of weird to watch as I witnessed normal adolescent guards and walls of protection disintegrate. I don't know if any of the other adults in the room noticed this lack of hardness and tough too-cool exterior. They were just kids being kids. And after this summer they'll be thrust into the next season of life. For some this season will include college and for others the work force, both pseudo adult worlds, but certainly more adult than high school. Daniel always comments on this fact that just because they turn 18 and graduate high school, we throw them into college and treat them like they're adults while they're still just kids in many ways. I think he's very right and we need to do a better job of shepherding these young adults during this time of transition.

When I wasn't giggling at the shenanigans taking place on stage, I was looking around the room at the faces of the other graduates. They were craning their necks while sitting indian style on the floor trying to get a better view of the volunteers. They too appeared younger and more innocent while congregated on the floor. I recognized a lot of the faces. We got the pleasure of getting to know a lot of them very well through Young Life. The senior guys were the group Daniel has been focusing on over the last three years, so many of them have sat in our living room on the very couch I sit on now while typing away. They will return to our house over the years and remain life long friends and always old Young Life kids even as they grow into their 20's. Some of the other faces I had never seen before. We only have a handful of leaders and do our best to meet as many kids at West each year as we can, but we can never meet them all. The faces that made me sad were the ones that I used to know. These are kids who I got to know their freshman and sophomore years and for whatever reason, lost touch with. This happens every year and graduation is always a bit of a bittersweet experience for this reason. Graduation can feel so final. And I'm not sad because I think kids are hopeless without Young Life. Most of them will be just fine. They have churches, families, and friends who love them and will continue to care for them. I'm sad because their names are written in my journal making up prayer lists of kids I'd like to get to know better. Most of their names stayed on that get-to-know-better list though and never moved to the more specific lists where I was invited into their lives to pray for things like being dumped, going through their parents' divorce, or celebrating making Varsity. I'm sad because I always feel like I missed out on sharing four years with another funny, sweet, talented, great kid. What's ironic is that some of the kids who we lose touch with over the years are the ones who I'll hear "hate Young Life" now or are annoyed by YL leaders. If only they knew that their names are written in my journal and that I prayed for them as they walked across the graduation stage and that I regret never getting to share some of high school's most precious moments with them.

Is It Bad?

Is it bad that I go to movies by myself?

(I'm not really asking because frankly I don't care.) I go to the theater by myself a lot and today I went to see Letters to Juliet. I know a lot of girls drag their guys to chick flicks and the guys allow themselves to be drug/dragged because they feel it is their duty to "take one for the team" in order to prove their love and devotion even in the face of the romantic comedy. I don't think Daniel loves me any less because he doesn't attend these cheese-fests with me. And truth be told I think if I asked, he would probably go with me. I just think it's a win win for both of us and could be for other relationships too if girls let go of their stigma of going to the movies by themselves. I love seeing movies and shouldn't be limited to seeing only movies that the two of us can agree on. Daniel has full permission to see any movie he like while enjoying the company of a male friend or Young Life guy. And on top of that, we see a lot of movies together. Everyone's happy: I get to see my chick flick and Daniel doesn't have to spend the ride home feeling the need to explain the implausibility of the story and lack of genuine chemistry between the characters to me. (I already know it's implausible, sometimes generic, and sometimes just kind of a bad movie. Sue me if I happen to like less than high brow entertainment...like Twilight par exemple.) I love my husband and I love the freedom he gives me to indulge my inner romantic.

The first time I went "table for one" style to the movies was during college when A Knight's Tale with Heath Ledger came out. Heath was the Robert Pattinson of my early 20's, so when I couldn't find anyone to go to the movie with me I mustered up the courage to go alone. I would not be denied Heath. My VHS copy of The Patriot was getting worn out after watching his heart-breaking death sequence over and over, and I was eager to see him perform some new material in a different role. Venturing to the theater alone that first time was an insecurity ridden trip. From the walk from the parking lot, to purchasing my ticket for one, to getting that solitary ticket torn by the vest wearing theater employee, to finding my seat in the semi-crowded theater, I felt eyes on me the entire time. I self-consciously assumed the that I was sticking out amidst the sea of happy groups. After the movie was over and Heath completed his fine performance I made my way back to my car feeling just as insecure as I did 120 minutes earlier.

I think my adoration of the late, but great, Mr. Ledger is what helped me to overcome this insecurity though because a few days later I made my second solo trip to the theater. I went under the guise of seeing some racing movie with Paul Walker and Sylvester Stallone, but after 10 minutes I realized it was crap and snuck into the theater next door to view a different crappy movie: A Knight's Tale...again. Who was I kidding? My 20 year-old self probably knew what she was up to the entire time.

The solo movie viewing experience continued over my college years and I found it liberating. No longer was I limited by the availability or tastes of my roommates or friends. I could see what I wanted, when I wanted. I was home visiting my parents one weekend during college and my dad was offering suggestions of movies to rent. When he realized that I had already seen everything he asked how I found the time to see so many movies. I told him about going alone and he grew very concerned.

"That's weird."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It just is. People don't go to the movies by themselves. Don't you have any friends?"

The phrase about not having any friends I think sums up my insecurities about going alone. When I see people dining alone or going to the movies alone I tend to assume they are not alone by choice, that if they had it their way they would be joined by a loved one. Since these are two activities normally enjoyed by couples or groups of friends, it does appear odd when someone is operating outside of the social norm. I can understand my dad's initial reaction. When I told him that I quite liked flying solo and explained my feelings of liberation, he inquired about my bravery. Didn't I feel strange or looked at? Didn't I care what my fellow movie goers thought of me? At first I did, but the benefits far outweigh any hesitation I may have had at first.

On my way to the movie tonight I thought about my first solo trips and what I felt. Some of those feelings still remain. I do still feel like everyone notices me when I walk in by myself, when I buy a ticket for one and don't stop to wait for someone else who might be meeting me at the theater, but instead head into my assigned theater and take my seat. So the insecurity hasn't left me completely, only now when I imagine them staring at me I feel a surge of confidence. Instead of assuming their thoughts are filled with pity about my lack of a friend or companion, I hear their admiration of my confidence and self-assurance to be able to go it alone wishing they too were brave enough to do the same (and then realizing that they too could see the Twilight movies more than three times each if they weren't reliant upon the schedules and tolerance of friends or spouses). So is it bad that I go to the movies alone? I don't think so, but there may be judgmental folks out there who view me as a lonely spinster taking a vacation from her cats while on a visit to the cinema. Ticket for one please.