A little help from my friends...

I seriously doubt that I have ever been at risk of this; nevertheless, I really love this quote. Some people get intimidated or frustrated or defensive or just plain mean when in the midst of impressive people. I have learned to appreciate it (somewhat out of necessity...such is life when your friends tend to be amazingly handy, creative, well-read and intelligent). We should all put ourselves around people who make us want to be better. 

Thank you to all of you who do just that. 

***

As I mentioned in the last post, I asked several women in my life to answer the same questions related to fulfillment and expectations that I posed to myself. Since that time, I also decided to send the same questions to several male friends/family who I thought might be willing in contribute. I figured it would be interesting to see if males and females responded significantly differently.

Regardless of gender, the first received responses, as suspected, have already proven testament to my "find a comfy chair and stay put" room status.  

***

I taught next-door to Jackie Rogers at Pulaski County High School from 2004-2006. Even though I haven't kept in touch with Jackie much over the years, I'll never forget how much I enjoyed being around her. She was one of the wittiest people I had ever been around (and about the only person I knew who could so easily trade quips with Scott), the students loved her, and the staff and parents respected her.  If you were a kid, you wanted to have her in class; if you were a teacher, you wanted to have my classroom so you could crack jokes with her in the hallway and eat lunch together. 

"One of my best friends and I like to get away in the fall for a quiet week on the beach. We pack several books, drums of sunscreen, versatile outfits and lots of shoes. If it rains, we sit on our balcony with coffee and say, “bring it on.” If dolphins come close to the shore, we nod with casual interest like we have one at home. If a shark joins us in the water, we crap our skirted bathing suits full. It isn’t that we are uber cool, we don’t even use the word “uber”, it is just that we have become comfortable. We’ve settled into our 40s and are wearing it around like yoga pants.

Last year on our first morning in the condo, coffee in hand, sunrise on the water, making plans for supper in about 12 hours; I rubbed the dull ache in the middle of my forehead.  I told my friend, who was as content as I to sit silently together or laugh like sorority girls, that I hoped the headache would go away before we made our way to our pre-paid, umbrella covered chairs. She informed me that it would go away in 24 hours. “You’ve got an old woman headache,” she informed me.

Old woman headache. Now that was new to me. She explained to me that people “my age” start getting these perimenopause headaches and it would get worse. Being four years older, I am benefitting from her misfortune of going first. “Why didn’t old women tell us about this?” I asked her.

“They tried,” she said.

And then we laughed. Everything is much funnier after 40. By “after” I mean the moment you wake up on your 40th birthday. You’ve spent the last decade scoffing at the hundreds of people who comment on how you will suddenly not be able to read or how your body parts will give in to gravity. It seems so cliche, until you wake up the morning of your 40th birthday and wonder why you can’t make out the expiration date on the milk. For several months you blame it on the lighting, but finally you buy a value pack of readers and start wearing them on top of your head.

At this point, I embraced it. I wasn’t in this alone and I wasn’t the first to watch my 20s and 30s slip away. When I reflect on those years, they were fun but too full of competition and struggle and self-doubt. If I could pinpoint the moment I let that go, it would be when I saw this quote that seems to be floating around a lot on social media “Girls compete with each other. Women empower one another.” I didn’t have it tattooed on my foot, rather I burned it in my heart. The more I give, the fuller my life becomes. “Cast your bread on the waters,” the Bible says, “and after many days it will return to you.”'

*** 

Since most of you who read this are from Cumberland County, you likely know Barbara Booher. Even though I went to school with her son, David, it wasn't until I took the job at the library that I realized what a wonderful person this woman is. The library, our kids, and the community in general are truly lucky to have her. I promise you, you won't find many people with a bigger heart. 

  

1. Do you consciously resolve to be a better/happier woman? How do you do this? 

I really don't consciously think about what would make me happier.  I might realize that I need to make a change of some kind in order to function better. But, I have discovered that I have a personality that needs to be "helping or giving" to someone in order to feel fulfilled or "happy".  I find true joy in doing for others.   I have also learned that people aren't fooled.  I must be real and sincere in what I do.

2. What advice would you give to someone in regard to creating/inspiring a fulfilled life? 

My advice is to know exactly what your priorities are and make your decisions accordingly.   Don't get caught up in "busyness".  It will rob you of your energy, time and your peace of mind. I know that my relationship with my God comes first, my family second, and then anything else in my life.   I also know the importance of respecting the fact that people have different priorities.

3. What lesson have you learned the hard way? 

I learned the hard way that I can't do it all, I can't fix it all and that I can't be everything for everybody.    But I can do my part.

4. If you wrote one quote on your bathroom mirror, what would it be? 

There is a plaque in my house that says "Be Kind, Be Wise, Be True".  I think of it as a revision of the Bible verse that says "Finally, be ye all like-minded, compassionate, loving as brethren, tenderhearted, humble minded." 1 Peter 3:8

5. If you had one piece of advice for your daughter/best friend/[any other woman of significance in your life], what would it be?  

My advice is to always stay focused on what is important....and the importance of passing on the values you have been taught to others around you through your actions and words.

***

Jim Brady is probably one of the most interesting people I have ever met: father, author, wine maker, explorer, philosopher, animal-lover, jack-of-all-trades, [insert about anything else you can think of]. There are so many little nuggets of wisdom in his response....even if for some reason he did capitalize the entire thing.;)

LIZA’S  5 QUESTIONS  IN HER QUEST FOR A FULFILLED LIFE…

1) STRIVE TO BE THE BEST VERSION OF YOURSELF YOU CAN BE, CONTINUALLY, AND REGARDLESS OF OTHERS’ THOUGHTS OR VIEWS ON HOW YOU PLAN ON SUCCEEDING.YOU WILL FIND RESISTANCE ALONG THE WAY DUE TO THE FACT THAT SOME PEOPLE ARE JUST INDECISIVE ABOUT THEIR OWN WELL BEING AND WILL RESENT THAT YOU ACTUALLY GIVE A SHIT. IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE IF THEY DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR REASONING, KEEP MOVING FORWARD, AND IF YOU INFLUENCE THEM EVEN A LITTLE, ALL THE BETTER; IF NOT… IT’S NOTHING PERSONAL.

2) DON’T LIVE IN A BOX. OPINIONS OF IDEAL LIVING PROBABLY DON’T AMOUNT TO MUCH IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS. WHEN YOU STEP OUT INTO THE REAL WORLD YOU REALIZE THAT MOST OF HUMANITY IS HAMPERED BY THEIR OWN STRUGGLES WITH HUMANITY. WE ALL LIVE IN THE SAME WORLD. DON’T BE AFRAID TO MAKE BIG DECISIONS IF YOU WANT THINGS TO BE DIFFERENT. YOU SOMETIMES HAVE TO HURT PEOPLES FEELINGS AND TURN PAGES; IT’S ONLY THEN, THAT YOU CAN REACH THE NEXT CHAPTER. SOMETIMES A FRESH START CAN REKINDLE OUR CREATIVITY.

3) NEVER CONTINUE DOWN A PATH WHICH THE AMOUNT OF HAPPINESS AND JOY IS EXCEEDED BY SADNESS AND MISERY. IT’S OK TO HAVE EXPECTATIONS THAT SOMETIMES FALL SHORT. DON'T BE AFRAID TO WALK AWAY.

4) WHAT YOU BELIEVE WILL KEEP YOU SAFE…PLAIN AND SIMPLE.

5) LIFE IS WHAT IT IS. GOOD, BAD OR INDIFFERENT…LIFE ISN'T FOCUSED ON YOUR RESULT. GOOD THINGS HAPPEN TO BAD PEOPLE, BAD HAPPEN TO GOOD. THE SOONER YOU TAKE YOU OUT OF THE EQUATION, THE HAPPIER, AND THE MORE RESILIENT TO DISAPPOINTMENTS, YOU WILL BE. THIS WILL NOT MAKE YOU IMPERVIOUS TO THEM, JUST MORE AWARE THAT IT ISN’T ANYONE’S FAULT, IT JUST IS, WHAT IT IS. SOME LIVE, SOME DIE. SOME LAUGH, SOME CRY.   

6) ALWAYS GO TO BED WITH A CLEAR CONSCIENCE KNOWING YOU PUT IT OUT THERE AS HONESTLY AS YOU COULD, WITH THE CONFIDENCE YOU DID THE BEST YOU COULD IN THE GIVEN SITUATION. YOU WILL BE MISUNDERSTOOD AT TIMES, BUT IN THE END YOUR INTENTION WILL BE TRUE AND YOUR PILLOW WILL BE SOFTER.

Confessions of a Reluctant Grave Digger

I am fortunate to have incredibly talented people in my life, artists who produce beautiful paintings and photographs, jack-of-all-trades who continually impress me with handy(wo)man/problem solving/crafting creativity, and friends far smarter than me who challenge me and simply make my life more interesting.  I also happen to know more than my fair share of amazing writers.  While all make a living doing something else and all are far too humble to admit their talent, I wanted to take a few weeks to spotlight their literary skills.  This month, I have six or seven friends who have agreed to continue the "Lessons in ...." series that I started last month.

First up is an old Centre College pal who I met in 1998 and have kept in touch with over the years.  Although he went to school in Metcalfe County, we didn't meet until college.  He was in a band. He drove a green El Camino. He was hilarious. In short, he was far cooler than me.  Shaun now lives in Tennessee with his wonderful wife and precious daughter and is a public school teacher.

Confessions of a Reluctant Grave Digger

by Shaun C. Smith

in loving memory of Loette Smith

                I was sitting in the backseat of my parents' car with my hand on the door handle. I knew when I opened the door I would once again be bombarded with the onrush of summerhot Texas air into the for-the-last-second-cool cabin of the car. We had driven into the dusty grave yard accompanied by a few other cars bearing assorted family members. I had been looking forward to Grandma's service for the chance we would all have at emotional release, but had started to dread it due to the finality it brought with it. It didn't help that the graveyard was quite a bit older, not one of those fancy new grave yards they have these days with well-manicured lawns, flower maintenance/management programs, and markers that have been kept neat and straight since day one. Many of the markers were care of Modern Woodmen of the World and gave the grounds the look and feel of a petrified forest (you may want to look that up if you haven't seen a field full of Modern Woodmen of the World markers, pretty impressive stuff). Either way, I knew the first thing I would do after catching my breath from the barrage of hot that would attack my face and person the moment I exited the vehicle would be to find the pastor or preacher in charge and follow his lead.

                Grandma was from Texas. She married Grandpa in Louisiana. They moved to the San Francisco Bay Area of California. Grandpa died out there in the 1980s. He was cremated and his ashes were scattered on the Bay. Toward the end of her life, Grandma moved to Kentucky so my Dad could help take care of her. It wasn't too long before she started having mini-strokes and started falling. It was a fairly quick decline and rather tragic. I got to tell her good-bye and rub her feet for her one more time, I hope she heard me and knew it was me. It happened in February or one of those months before or after. She was cremated. 

                Grandma loved her father and her step-mother. In fact, her wishes were to have her ashes interred alongside them. They are both buried in Eustace, Texas. Good luck finding that on a map, but I'm sure if you looked hard enough, you would find it eventually. Grandpa, at one point, ran his own newspaper there and my Dad was born there (at home, not in the hospital) and eventually, Grandma would return there indefinitely.

                When Grandma passed away, we knew she was going to be cremated, so there was no rush to have a funeral. Because her wishes involved interment in a different time zone, and because ashes don't decompose we decided to wait until we would be headed to Texas for our family reunion later that summer. Waiting for the family reunion made it convenient for everyone to be there. Considering the vast majority of mourners were also on the family reunion invitation list, it just made sense. I took a lot of comfort in waiting for summer, I also figured it gave my parents enough time to get the service planned and make all the necessary arrangements over the phone or by email. One of the things I was most excited about in regards to waiting for the reunion was the chance to spend some time with my cousin, who is really more like a sister. I knew I would be able to help comfort her as she had spent several years living with Grandma and had been incredibly close to her.

                My Mom, Dad, and I left from Bowling Green, Kentucky late one night in their car, along with a puppy (long story). We were leaving at night because I had always been able to drive through the night and figured it would be a great way to give my parents the chance to sleep in the car and arrive somewhat rested in the morning. Around about Jackson, Tennessee, I learned that a lot had changed in the past few years and night driving was no longer my friend. My Dad couldn't sleep because he wanted to make sure I was awake. When I realized that I had some "staying awake" concerns, he took over for me so I could sleep. I soon realized that I couldn't sleep because I wanted to stay awake to make sure my Dad could stay awake. It was a Catch 22 of sorts. I suppose the smart move would have been to get a hotel room, sleep, and then wake up early, but we had places to be in the morning. So, the rest of the night went on in endless, startled awakeness with all of the bleary eyed terror that accompanies one of those through-the-night-but-no-one-really-wants-to-be-awake-and-in-a-car rides.

                Upon our arrival, we became nomads in search of place to rest. We sought refuge first at our hotel, booked for the night, but were laughed at for our request for an early check in (at 7:00 am). We headed to my Dad's cousin's house. She said we could let ourselves in, but she was going to a doctor's appointment. It was another lengthy drive on top of the incredible sojourn we had just completed, but we had a breakfast in us and the sun was out. We made it, found our way in, and instinctively found the softest surfaces we could find, faceplanted and passed out.

                Upon awakening, the reuniting began as my Uncle and his family had also arrived. As he was my Dad's only brother, this was an "immediate" family reunion of sorts. From that point forward, the service was the farthest thing from the forefront of my mind. We eventually made it back to the hotel and got in our rooms. Some of us went to sleep; some of us went out to eat. The next morning found us all fairly well rested and happy to be together as a family. We ate breakfast before we left to go the "not-so-immediate" family reunion.

                It was hot; we reunited. At a certain point in the day, those that wished to pay their respects to Grandma started doing that thing where you have to do something and you don't really want to do it, but you know you have to do it, so you look at someone who must also do that thing you know you have to do, but don't really want to do and make that face that says, "I don't really want to do this, but I know I have to do it," and then actually physically speak the word, "well," which is understood by the second person as a sign that we now must collectively gather the others who have to go do the thing they don't really want to do, but have to do and then tell them that the time has arrived for doing the thing that we all have to do, but we don't really want to go do. Of course, not to say that nobody wanted to do it, it was just a somber occasion. Sure, if we'd all had our druthers, Grandma would have been at the reunion with us. The fact of the matter was that she wasn't with us and we had to get to the service.

                So we drove out there. It took about an hour to get there and I remember at some point, my Dad said, "This is Eustace." I looked up and saw a wide spot in the road with a police station on the left and a cemetery on the right. We turned right and pulled into the cemetery. I remember being somewhat surprised that no one was there to meet us. I made it a point to look immediately for the person in charge of the service when I got out of my parents' car.

                People were getting out of their cars and I figured I needed to join them. My Dad made his way to the trunk as I got adjusted to the blast furnace heat. I hoped for a nice breeze, but I hadn't felt one since we'd crossed the border the day before. My Dad called me over to the trunk and handed me something. It was a shovel.

"What's this for?" I asked.

"To dig the hole."

"What hole?"

"The hole for the ashes."

"Where are the ashes?"

"Here," he handed me a box.

I suddenly understood the definition of "aghast". All this time, we'd been driving state to state, through the night, reuniting with family, cousin’s house sleeping, bed crashing, breakfast eating, and puppy delivering (again, long story) all with the intent of holding a service for Grandma and all the while, her ashes (and the shovel that would dig the hole in which to place them) had been riding along with us in the trunk.

"Dad," I asked, aghast, "who's going to dig the hole?"

"You are," he answered matter of factly, as if I had stopped paying attention during that part of the conversation we had never had in which we discussed the plans for the service.

"Who's going to do the service?"

"We are," he answered matter of factly, as if I had stopped paying attention during that part of the conversation we (again) had never had in which we discussed the plans for the service.

"Dad, there's a police station right across the street! I think this is illegal!" I countered, once again, aghast.

"Well, we'll just form a wall between you and the police station. The hole doesn't have to be that big, you know." He did have a point there.

And so, as my immediate and not-so-immediate family formed a wall between me, my shovel, and my Grandma's ashes, some Bible verses were read, some prayers were prayed, some tears were shed, and then, I dug a small hole between the graves of my Great-Grandfather and Step-Great-Grandmother. When I was done, it was time to lay Grandma to rest. As I turned the bag of ashes over to return ash to dust, I got my breeze. Of course, my back was to my family, so no one noticed. My cousin brought me the small marker that had been made so I could put it into place. "What's on your shirt?" she asked through what had just been heavy tears.

"Grandma." I answered, with what should have been a stronger variation of aghastness. But oddly, I was no longer aghast. I was actually comforted by what I had just done and although I was a bit unsure of what to do with Grandma's ashes that covered the front of my shirt, my cousin and I leaned down and placed the marker over the ashes that had made it into the ground. When we stood back up, my cousin helped my brush off the front of my shirt. The not so immediate family slowly took off and the immediates stayed back to say good bye to each other and eventually, we left to drive back to Kentucky.

                I realized on the ride home, that I had been very fortunate to have the experience I had just had. Not many people get to literally bury someone they love these days with a day's worth of labor or heavy machinery. It was fast and simple, but a very tangible act of love that left me with a different view of death. Death is not just an end, but also an opportunity to quantify your feelings for someone. These days, people show their love in a time of death by pouring money into things that will be seen for hours at best, then buried forever. What an incredible honor it was to bury my Grandmother, by hand, in front of my family. The experience, although it caught me off guard, has been one of the most enlightening and spiritual I have ever had. It was an incredible chance to do just one more act of love for her. I can only hope that when my time comes, I'm surrounded by family and friends that would be willing to drive  700 or so miles only to form a human barricade between a graveyard and a police station just so they can lay me to rest. Of course, I hope that isn't necessary for a very long time.

A few redeeming February moments...

Things I have loved this particular February...
Jimmy Fallon takes over The Tonight Show. Paul Rudd joins him for a lip sync battle.  If you don't like this, quit reading my blog.

This literally entertained me for about an hour one morning.  It made me want to go buy some goats and a sheet of flexible steel ribbon.

This reminded me how happy I am that I chose Centre.  If I have kids, I hope, beyond measure, they take the same path and ultimately find themselves in classes such as these. ... Or spend three weeks in Kingston, Jamaica studying at the University of the West Indies, eating lobster prepared by Bamboo Bobby on his makeshift beach grill, and drinking more Red Stripes in a 21 day period than they will the rest of their lives. ... Or snickering with their roommate and best friend who has also decided to wear a belly chain in the middle of January to their "Alcohol & Society" lecture. Purely hypothetical...their momma was far too classy to do stuff like that.
***
Something I love about every February...
I honestly don't care one way or the other about my own birthday, but I really enjoy celebrating those of the people I care about.  And while each family member below is certainly worthy of his/her own post AND the potentially "cold" format of a social media site might suggest insincerity, my affection and respect for each of those spotlighted could not possibly be more genuine. Thank you, February, for producing such people of substance.

February 27 - The best person I have ever known.  I mean that.

February 24 - The best former student I could have ever picked to set up with my sister.  

February 18 - The best friend I will ever have. 

February 15 - One of the best fathers I will ever know.

February 14 - The best (and only) protector I'll ever need. 

***

"But February is an acquired taste. February used to be the month I paid the least attention to, except as inspiration to plan a long road trip as far away as possible. Now that I've acquired the habit of staying put, February is the month that keeps me closest to home, feasting on the memories of travel and news of my neighbors." - Vivian Swift, When Wanderers Cease to Roam 

I'm grateful for the cinnamon toast and coffee I like to have in the mornings in front of the fireplace.  I'm grateful to know the people whose birthdays I celebrate. I'm grateful for memories of Jamaica and belly chains. I'm grateful for books that keep me occupied on snow days. I'm grateful that February is growing on me, too.  

I can tell that we are gonna be friends.

(By the way, this came on while we were at Jane's for the Bridesmaid Luncheon).

 

I noticed on Centre College's Facebook page today that new students arrived on campus this week. This means that almost exactly 15 years ago, I walked into Yerkes 306 and met the girl who would become my best friend, the one with whom I would travel the world, the one who I watched walked down the aisle of a beautiful chapel in an elegant, but simple, dress, on the arm of her equally lovely mother this past weekend.  Of all the things I'm grateful for in my life, my friendship with Caroline is undoubtedly one of the most cherished.

San Francisco

Chicago - Lollapalooza

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

Knoxville

San Francisco

Knoxville

Salzburg, Austria

Prague, Czech Republic

Prague

Salzburg

Chicago (pre-Avett Brothers show)

Lucerne, Switzerland

Louisville

Louisville

Danville

***

When I have wedding photos, I will do a follow-up post.  Trust me, you'll want to see a recap of this lovely, lovely day. For the time being, you might want to check out Deborah Marcero's page (wedding photographer), an overview of Bond Chapel (wedding location), or one of the two past Pillow Book entries also about Caroline.

*** 

And this pretty much sums up our friendship: "I love that the day we met Angela Rosengart, friend and subject of Picasso, in one of my favorite museums I've ever been in, was the same day we watched Jersey Shore in German on the red leather sofa in our awesome B&B loft."

Click here to view this photo book larger
 

"Patrick" does roll off the tongue a little better than "Maewyn Succat."

Thank you for such thoughtful comments on here and Facebook in response to the previous post about tips/advice.  Here are a few that readers sent me this week. 

1. Keep a journal or jot things down. You won’t remember things that you think you will. Plus, it’s thrilling (sometimes cringe-worthy) to find these musings years later.

2. Always take a sweater.

3. Learn to love coffee or hot tea. It’s comforting when you’re alone and social when you’re with a friend.

4. When you’re really stressed about something, ask yourself, How much will this matter in 10 years? or even a year from now? Learn to let it go.

5. Buy yourself some school supplies every year, even if you haven’t been in school for a long time. There’s something revitalizing about a batch of new freshly-sharpened pencils, a clean notebook, a superb new pen

6. If someone is happy with their life don't try to change them just because they don't meet all your expectations; accept them for who they are.

7. If someone you love is in a bad situation, do what you believe is right. If they don't want your help, just let them know you'll be there for them when they need you.

8. No matter how down you feel, if you smile and act happy you will soon find yourself feeling happier. It takes fewer muscles to smile than to frown.

9. Do something good for someone just because you can, not because you want people to think you're a good person. If you're a good person, people will already know it.

I truly consider myself fortunate to call these ladies "friends." Because I have a weird quirk about things being on odd numbers...

10. Put yourself in the company of people who think/say/write/live stuff like this.
***
I don't care how cute your green, fake vintage t-shirt is, I'm betting you don't know the history of the holiday either.

Some of my favorite greens...

Fresh basil on homemade pizza

Whimsical ink pens that write really well

Themed parties and high school letter jackets

Spring gardens

Paint projects and summer melons

Surprises in the shrubs

Cushaw...well, at least all the delicious sweet stuff it can be made into

Home

Homemade Christmas ornaments

Asparagus, downtown restaurants (The Bristol) and enjoying a meal by yourself

"Just because you feel like it" projects

Smoothies and best friends

Neat bathrooms

Discovering beautiful landscapes with your best friend

Mini-marathon shirts and the Jeff Ruby's meal afterward

Hilarious and creative friends that send you e-cards with green backgrounds

Pistachio bread and cupcakes

Pistachio Cake (from Allrecipes.com)
1 (18.25 oz.) yellow cake mix
1 (3.4 oz. package instant pistachio pudding mix
4 eggs
1 1/2 c. water
1/4 c. vegetable oil
1/2 tsp. almond extract
7 drops green food coloring

Preheat oven to 350. Grease and flour bundt pan or cupcake pan. In large bowl, mix cake mix and pudding mix. Make a well in the center and put in eggs, water, oil, almond extract, and food coloring.  Blend and then beat for 2 minutes. Pour into pan and bake for 50 minutes (if using a bundt pan). Let cool for at least 15 minutes before inverting on wirer rack. (If you so choose, top with buttercream icing:))
***
In the next Pillow Book post, I'll be talking about the Silas House writing workshop Neal & Jennell Poindexter and I attended at Berea College, offering a couple of recipes from one of my favorite cookbooks, Dinner: A Love Story, and reviewing Ben Hewitt's book, The Town that Food Saved (one of my favorites I've read in a long time). I specifically want to think about a question he poses about 1/2 way through: Do people make a town, or does a town make its people? I encourage you to be pondering this.

Birthday greetings from the caboose...

I moved back to Cumberland County in December 2009 because I was just ready to be "home." I wanted to watch my niece grow up.  I wanted to attend impromptu weeknight dinners at Mom's and have early morning, coffee time on her front porch swing.  I wanted to spend as much time with my Dad as possible. These things simply superseded any questions of jobs, friends, or activities; I would find something to do and until then, I could keep my job at UK.  Driving never bothered me. I could see some of my friends from high school again. It would be fun to catch up and get to know them as adults.  I could hang out with my family or just go to Glasgow or Bowling Green if I got bored. I told myself all of these things.  And, they were true; I worked at UK a semester and then found an amazing job at the library.  I have loved getting reacquainted with wonderful women like Misty Dubre, Amanda England, and Leslie Conner.  I am blessed with a hilarious family and hang out with them all the time. 

Two things surprised me a bit, though.

The first is a general theme of this blog. I have found a million interesting things to do in this small, rural town, a one-stoplight hamlet full of characters even the best screenwriter couldn't accurately capture. No matter where you are, there are interesting people.  Choose to be around them.  Choose to let yourself be creative.  Choose to "do" rather than just talk. Choose to be active in your own life.  Even in a place most would never consider a hotbed of art, excitement, or intrigue, I have found that I do more interesting and inspiring things than I ever have before in my life.  I love that.

Secondly, and more importantly, I have found new friendships, one in particular, that truly enrich my life everyday.  And by "enrich," I mean: a friendship that makes every day funnier; a friendship that honestly makes me want to be better, a more devoted family member, a more creative person, a more involved community member; a friendship that is consistently an outlet for the sarcastic, playful shenanigans that dance around in my mind daily; a friendship that reminds me that women aren't always horrible to one another; a friendship that keeps me grounded, reminding me that small things aren't worth the worry and that I, and my issues, aren't nearly as important as I try to make them; a friendship built on a realistic, "it is what it is" life mantra, not because we don't care about the other, but because we understand each other well enough to know empty words of comfort aren't actually comforting; a friendship shared between two people who care about our families, our friends, our community, and notions of "just do the right thing because it's the right thing," but who detest showy acts of "do-gooding;" a friendship strengthened by Pinterest projects, Minit Mart fountain drinks, and the occasional (everyday) reference to our fast track to hell; a friendship that has inspired numerous "I'm grateful today for..." entries in my gratitude jar; an unexpected friendship that has made being back in Cumberland County even more fulfilling and one that inspires me to stay. 

She is the mother I would've loved, and would love, to have if Jackie Turner weren't so awesome.  She is one half of a relationship, started when she was only a teenager, that lasted nearly forty years, a relationship replete with love, laughter, spontaneity, kindness, and a spirited appreciation for life.  She is a grandmother that creates princess-themed birthday cakes and plans weekend vacations and attends every baseball game and school play. She is the co-worker who solves the world's problems with me three days a week. She can be found at the farmers market on Saturday morning and Relay for Life fundraisers on Tuesday nights and in her kitchen at 9 pm, after an already busy day, working on mustache Christmas ornaments for all of the Turner women. 

She is the type of person I want to be, the type we should all be so lucky to have in our lives. Happy birthday to my dear friend, Terry Staley.

***

A couple of suggestions...

 

Check out The Fine Arts Bistro on the square in Glasgow when you get a chance: delicious crepes, great coffee, and a cool atmosphere.

And if you make your way to the Sparta, TN area, definitely stop by the Frangrant Mushroom Pottery Studio, where you can find hand-thrown pottery, homemade candles, original art, and local crafts (this is probably my favorite shop within a two-hour radius).