Harry and Andrea

My only living grandparent–Momaw–turned 90 this year.  We celebrated with a surprise party given by her children and grandchildren, but how do you rightfully appreciate 90 years of living?  I can’t even imagine all that she has seen in 90 years.   The wars, the economic changes, the social changes, the family dynamic changes.  I can, however, imagine the chicken n’ dumplin’s she used to make and the homemade ice cream–the kind where everyone in the family has to pitch in and turn until each person’s arm hurts and you’re forced to pass it to the next person, but it’s sooooo good.  I can also imagine the parties we used to have–just me and Momaw–on the couch in front of the TV with whatever we could find to munch on and always a little Mountain Dew.  And the words of encouragement about how God is always faithful.  And the short walks to church on that little county road–Route 2, I think it was called.  And the Easter eggs hidden in the yard around their house for me to find.  When I think of Momaw I think of all the yummy meals, but also the companionship that she has provided for so many.  I’ve never heard anyone say anything negative about her.  When you meet her, you can’t help but love her.  Even now, it feels like she is trying to take care of you, by giving you whatever is in her kitchen that someone else has made to take home with you, or by giving you peppermints or Werther’s, or by wanting you to take a nap on her couch because you are tired while she puts a blanket over you.  I realize now that making a meal for someone isn’t about the perfect ingredients or cooking style.  It’s about taking advantage of a moment while someone is in your home to love.  Momaw helped teach me that in the way that she loves people.

• sand between my toes
• traveling through random stretches of rural Alabama on a two-lane road to get there
• the rhythm of the waves as they crash
• dodging jellyfish while walking or fighting the waves
• one, good sunburn
• casual living
• Peach Park fruit bowls, homemade banana ice cream and scary animal-head trash cans
• salt water burning in my nose
• sleeping in
• People Magazine
• remembering that God created beauty and rest
• limp, body-less hair, distracted by the humidity
• no schedule
• the “Go to Church or the Devil will get you!” sign
• swimsuits, beach towels and Airbrush T-shirts on every corner
• memories of youth groups long ago and college retreats
• ice cream, fried shrimp, and boiled peanuts on the side of the road (not all at the same time)
• feeling the sun on my skin
• Southern Pines and Magnolias
• analyzing the color of the warning flag
• really long quiet times of prayer and meditation
• remembering that there is something greater than me

Does anyone know what these brown spiky things are called?

I’m married, with no children, a college graduate, living and working outside of Nashville, Tennessee, active in a wonderful church, a perfectly respectable human being–albeit, living in “the North”, with quite the accent–but with undeniable roots from the heart of Dixie herself!

Near the end of high school, I remember thinking that I would not even consider going back for my reunion unless I was married with at least one child. Fortunately, I’m not as dependent on external factors for my identity and security anymore. I am nothing, if not the picture of confidence now. So, I went anyway.

High school reunions do make you think, though. Am I where I thought I would be at this age? Am I who I thought I would be? Why haven’t I spoken to so many of these people in the last 10 years–these people who were a part of my life everyday for so many years? Have I accomplished everything that I thought I would accomplish by now? Does it even matter? How many different experiences have I had in the last 10 years? If I weren’t just-oh-so-grounded it might affect me. But thankfully, I have absolutely no regrets. Not one. So, there’s nothing for me to think about except for what a lovely time I had seeing old friends and introducing Harry to some of Alabama’s finest. (For the uncersored version, you’ll just have to email me.)

Here are a few photos for your viewing pleasure.

School’s out! Not sure for how long, but I’m trying to enjoy the moment. It never feels real the first day. It’s always a really awkward transition for me.

For the past 5 months lunch as been from 11:16-11:35, without fail. A bell rings to remind me. I haven’t eaten lunch or made any effort toward fixing something because I don’t know what time I should eat lunch. Nor do I remember how to spend more than 19 minutes eating it! I’m waiting for the bell, but it is so quiet! The ticking clock replaces the screaming 13-year-olds and the daily demands of a public school teacher.

It always takes me a few days to process “the end.” It’s kind of depressing actually–always has been. As Harry would say, it’s a “full court press” to the end. But, what do you do when there’s nothing left to press? I’ve been so excited to start working on house projects, but I have so many that I don’t know where to start. So, here I sit.

When I find myself here, I sometimes think, well, maybe I should just relax and watch the Travel Channel –maybe even guiltlessly. But, I always feel like I’m wasting time when I relax. Like right now, I came straight home, set my bag down, looked around a little bit–at all of the straightening and cleaning I COULD be doing, but just don’t know where to start– and opened up my computer because I didn’t know what else to do. I have plenty of emails to sort and respond to. I’ll start there. So, I glanced at those, but that’s a big project too.

Anybody have any suggestions on what I should do with my afternoon? How do I begin my summer break?  Here are some possibilities, if you’d like to weigh in:

• washing the dirty dishes in the sink
• laundry
• watching the Travel Channel
• working on the wedding scrapbook
• cleaning out the office
• cleaning out the closet in the guestroom
• writing in my journal
• taking a nap
• printing some photos to frame
• catching up on email