Sunday morning, I'm working at Starbucks, right, and I'm doing my thing and gettin' the coffee made and supporting Tampa Jay on the bar there and Melanie and Lizzy Bean and The Pitz, all working behind the counter and such...
I'm getting a sandwich or something, maybe getting a pastry and I see this short, stocky, somewhat older woman come in the door and head straight for me. She reaches the end of the counter and just stops and stare at me.
Now, its important to note that The Bux keeps coffee grounds for its customers. After a pot of coffee is brewed, before we brew a fresh pot, we dump the filter and grounds into a small garbage can at the end of our bar counter. When that bag is full, we take it and set it outside for customers to grab for free. People use these grounds and the bio-degradable filters in their own gardens, and the acidity in the used grounds help fertilize and provide nutrition for flowers in a garden... it will even make your hydrangeas purple!
However, we cannot put more than one bag of grounds outside in our bucket at a time... so if someone snatches that bag, the bucket is empty until we have more grounds to put out--and these bags can be upwards of 20, 30, maybe 40 pounds.
And it was about 30 minutes before our customer in question came in that I had thrown out a huge bag of grounds.
She asked me about getting some grounds, I politely informed her that I had, within the last 45 minutes, thrown away the grounds we had, but I advised her to check the bucket outside. She said she'd already seen that the bucket outside was empty, and I essentially told her that it was unfortunate, but check back later.
Crazy Coffee Lady: So, you threw out the coffee grounds? Me: Yes ma'am, the can was full, and we aren't allowed to pile up the bags outside, so I had to throw it out. Crazy Coffee Lady: And the bag went in the dumpster? Me: Yes ma'am
It was about here that I was working on a breakaway statement that will allow me to not only end this dialogue,but also get back to my work and also allow me to shush the others who are cracking up at the end of the counter.
Crazy Coffee Lady: Where are your newspapers? The old ones?
To set this part of the conversation up, know that our condiment bar is next to the door, and next to it sits a small basket where newspapers tend to just pile up until someone--usually I--come along and toss them. Today, however, there were no newspapers to be had.
Crazy Coffee Lady: They are gone. Usually they are in the basket. Me: Yes ma'am, but it looks like they have been thrown away as well. Sorry about that.
Then, here's where the conversation went off the rails.
Crazy Coffee Lady: Where is the dumpster? Me (pausing): Um... its outside in the back. Crazy Coffee Lady: Would you mind if I went there and got them out? Me (pausing again): Um... sure. Knock yourself out. Crazy Coffee Lady: Think the newspapers are in there? Me: I'll be honest... I have no idea. They weren't here when I got here, so they might have gone out this morning or last night. Crazy Coffee Lady: Can you maybe come out and unlock it for me? Me: Oh, there is no lock, just open the door. Crazy Coffee Lady: I love putting the grounds in my garden, it really helps my flowers and keeps out the weeds, and the newspapers do the same think, keeping out the weeds, and I like the Sunday paper because I like the coupons, I cut them out and send them to my daughter who is in South Dakota, you know she's paying off her bills and so she really likes the coupons and... Me (cutting her off as nicely as possible): Yes ma'am, I understand. Crazy Coffee Lady: Do you think one of you could come out there and help me out? Me (quickly): No ma'am, we are far too busy to assist in that, I'm sorry Crazy Coffee Lady: Well, could you come unlock the dumpster area? Me: There's no lock, I promise. Just go around the other side, and open the doors. Crazy Coffee Lady: Are you sure there isn't a lock on it?
What I'm thinking... Lady, I take out the garbage at this store about 10 to 12 times per week at this store, I promise you there is no lock anywhere around that dumpster shed, because even though I'm a little dense at times and tend to forget things and sometimes I'm not very observant, I promise you I would have, at some point, noticed a lock and/or some form of locking mechanism disallowing the entrance into said dumpster shed.
What I said: I promise you there is no lock on it. Go ahead.
She turned around and headed out the door. The baristas behind the counter then proceeded to observe how crazy this entire conversation had been. We all glanced out the window to see if the woman went to the dumpster, and sure enough, we saw her car pull around to the other side.
Twenty minutes later, here comes Crazy Coffee Lady, who proudly told me, "I got TWO bags out of there, and found a bunch of coupons in the newspapers!"
Me: Um... that's... that's awesome!
Which means that not only did she climb into our dumpster to retrieve a 25 pound bag of coffee grounds that I had tossed, she also managed to find an equally as heavy bag that had been thrown away probably the night before, which means it was not only IN the dumpster, but UNDER a ton of bags... AND she managed to pull out a stack of newspapers which was also BURIED under a bunch of bags.
That is a need for grounds that I'll never hopefully have...
i just read this article titled “Ending South Korea’s Child Export Shame” (click on the link above) on the Foreign Policy in Focus website. It talks about the history of international korean adoptions but focusing on the new bill being proposed to the korean government. this bill will allow for revision to the antiquated and illegal/appalling processes of adoption (forcing birth mothers to sign illegal documents while the child is still in their womb, allowing adoptive parents to adopt without a criminal background check, etc). Also, it will include “a court process for adoption, a cooling off period for child surrender without duress, and the documentation of identities, among other provisions.” I am particularly interested in the documentation of identities since I am still unclear the background of my true identity.
here are some key quotes that i found to be extremely poignant:
Turning a child into a paper orphan violates her/his basic right to identity as outlined in the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child.
Despite promoting domestic adoption since 2005, South Korea remains a top five sending country to the United States accounting for almost 13 percent of all 2010 overseas adoptions. Adoptions from South Korea generate $35 million annually with a single overseas adoption today averaging $15,000. By contrast, the Korean government provided an unwed mother in 2009 with only 50,000 won (about $48) per month to care for her child. The money from one overseas adoption would pay an unwed mother’s family subsidy for 25 years of her child’s life.
When birth mothers have asked for information about their children, agencies have refused, claiming that doing so violates the adoptive family’s privacy and telling birth mothers to wait until adoptees turn 18. However, there are no laws sealing or regulating adoption files, which are technically agency private property. The agencies could burn the records if they wanted.
it is quite tough at times to read facts like these and know that i am part of this ongoing social struggle. but reading something like this also makes me proud to be part of a pioneering generation for south korea. to create some sort of reform so that the future children and mothers of this country can have a choice and the basic liberty of human rights.
Seoul time lapse
There is Starbucks ALL OVER in Korea, especially Seoul.
But it’s expensive… And they only have two sizes. Small and extra-small.
My mama was a gardener in her earlier life, working in a nursery for years and years. When you hear nursery, you think "babies", but nay nay, its a nursery with plants. She was good at that sort of thing... the old joke was she could plant a rock, have a tree in a few weeks, take the leaves and make a great casserole, then knit you a quilt with the leftovers. That's the kinda chick she was, that mama of mine.
There are a lot of things I learned from dear Mama, but planting and gardening wasn't really one of them. That being said, I can dig a hole and pot a plant. That being said, I was quite proud of myself when I put together a big planter for the drive thru at our Starbucks.
Melanie asked me if I would take on the project, and since I consider half my job to be "get stuff done so she doesn't have to worry about it", then I took it on willingly. She and I went to Lowes and walked around for about 20 minutes, looking for help and got none. We were told that Ms. Jennie would along directly, but after a few more minutes went by with no Ms. Jennie, we had to split.
I came back a little later when I had more time, and loaded up. I got a apricot hibiscus, some begonias, some petunias and a few more fun things, and on the recommendation of Ms. Jennie, who finally showed up, I came up with this:
So, a few days later, Melanie asked me to do another for the front. She told me what she wanted, but I missed part of it, catching only, "Covered with flowers." To me, that meant just put a lot of flowers in it.
I head to Lowes and buy a whole lotta plants, bring them back and get them potted. Melanie comes out, looks and says, "This looks great!" then adds, softly, "...can you make it taller?" Its then that I realized she had actually said, "I'd like it to be tall, like the other one, covered with flowers."
That'll teach me to only listen halfway. I tend to do that alot.
Anyway, I haul off back to Lowes and walk around a while and make another decision. Instead of small roses, I end up going with jasmine on a trellis. I bring everything back, unpot most of the flowers I just potted, then plant the jasmine vine. I then repot everything, then soil and water. And here's what I ended up with:
I mean, I'm no Martha Stewart, but I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. I even bought a watering can proportional to how it should be watered daily.
My garden grows just fine. I'm even thinking of doing flowers in front of The Cabana. If I can find the time, that is. Good luck with that.
So, I felt dorky about doing my 700th post with Idol as the subject. Yes, I do a ton of Idol, because I'm a fan and it comes on twice per week... but for number 700, I thought I'd do something a little better... Walt Disney World. We had a long vacation, so I wanted to talk a little bit about it. Hopefully, too much time won't go by that I just forget about the rest of it, cause I got so much to talk about. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?
The hardest part about any vacation is the return. I don't necessarily mean the return trip, per se, but the actual "return", like, when you are standing in front of an espresso machine, making drinks, thinking to yourself "24 hours ago I was on The Haunted Mansion..." and you text The Lovely Steph Leann things like "Hey, did we just go away for 11 days and we are already back, or do we leave this Thursday for 11 days?"
Cause it goes by so doggone fast... we had been planning on leaving for our yearly week long Disney World trip on Thursday, February 3rd, maybe around 3 or 4p, after The Lovely Steph Leann got off of work. This would put us getting there around 130, maybe 2am Orlando time, if we did leave at 3, and stopped minimally. Our vacation was for Thursday night, the 3rd, through the following Sunday, the 13th, staying at Port Orleans French Quarter the entire time.
We love French Quarter because of two main reasons--one, its small. Seven buildings to be exact, meaning no matter which building they put you in, you are close to the main hall, to the ferry dock that takes you to Downtown Disney, to the bus stops and so on. Two, double sinks. Never realized this was such a big deal until we stayed at other resorts, like Pop Century (my other favorite resort, btw), but when The Lovely Steph Leann opens up her bag and she's got fourteen bottles for her hair alone, then you know you need two sinks.
Riverside is also nice, which is the other part of Port Orleans, but its huge. There are two or three bus stops alone that go with it, and its just too far to walk from place to place. So, French Quarter it is.
At the beginning of vacation week, The Lovely Steph Leann informed me that she would, in fact, be off on Thursday, so we could leave Thursday morning, early, maybe 3 or 4 in the morning, putting us there mid-afternoon or so. We could relax in the room, maybe get dinner somewhere, then either go out to a park or turn in early, getting sleep and rest to be able to hit Animal Kingdom the next day. Then, I had the bright idea of... why don't we just leave around 10p Wednesay night? Drive all night, get there around 7 or 8 in the morning, check in--we've arrived early in the day on several vacations, and our room is always ready, so no big whoop, right? Right. Anyway, then we could sleep as long as we wanted, and we'd be there!
At this point, we were both frozen solid, and I think we both caught asthma from the insulation.
My only issue is, Starbucks has myself, Melanie and others involved in a community service project, in Ensley, doing Habitat for Humanity. At the time, I had no idea what we would exactly be doing, so therefore, I had no idea how tired I would exactly be. The Lovely Steph Leann and I went back and forth on when we should leave, and she finally just leaves it up to me.
Wednesday rolls around, and its time to leave for Ensley, an ethnic, poor, somewhat dangerous part of the Birmingham area, so Melanie, myself and two others drive out there to meet everyone. Of the several jobs that are offered, she and I take on putting up insulation in one of the framed bedrooms. Lest I forget to mention, its cold. I mean, really, really cold. Like in the mid, maybe lower 30s cold, all day. I'm freezing, she's freezing, we both through working caution to the wind and stand very close to keep warm. Its butt cold.
Melanie is hilarious because, as tough a manager as she can be sometimes, she's... well, she's a princess sometimes. Love her dearly, but putting up insulation is not what God had in store for her life plan. The day wears on, we continue to freeze, we all end up having a meeting later, and finally, the day is over. And now, even though I've packed most of my clothes, even though most of our stuff is gathered, even though over half of my "do we have ____? Check!" list is checked off, I still have a ton of errands to run. You know, those errands that somehow get put off until the last minute, even though you have been planning this trip since, what, October of the previous year? Yep.
The plan was for me to run such errands, The Lovely Steph Leann to run her own errands, and I'd be starting a nap by, say, 8, maybe 830, I'd get up around 10, maybe 11, and we would be on our way. As it turns out, I lay down around 945. Red Robin is packed, all loose ends are tied up, errands are all accomplished, and when I get up, then we just get in the car and go. Only problem is, when The Lovely Steph Leann wakes me up at 11, I'm like, "Whaaa.... uhhhh... I... uhh..."
She smiles and quietly says, "Hey... if you want to get up, we can. If you want to sleep, we can do that too. We can leave whenever you want, its okay." I groggily nod, and somehow set my alarm for 1am, then pass back out. The alarm goes off a few hours later, and after a few "snoozes", we finally get up around 120. Twenty minutes later, with every thing we need stuffed into Red Robin, I reach up and hit the garage door opener. The rumble begins, and the darkened garage gets slightly brighter as the outside light from the drive comes in. The door opens, I move the gearshift into D, slightly press the gas and we begin to move.
We are on vacation.
The Journey Is Half the Fun, right? Right! Well, I guess it was fun. It was a 9 and a half hour drive. We have found that if you travel down Highway 280, pass through Auburn, cut across the corner of Georgia through Columbus, Albany, Ty Ty and others, getting on I-75 in Tifton, then take 75 down to the Florida Turnpike, cut across the 40 miles or so, then take the exit to World Drive... its faster. I've been through Atlanta (too much construction), and I've taken 231 to I-10 (too far out of the way), and though I didn't believe 280 until we did it a few years back, I believe now. Take 280. Easier.
We listened to Inside the Magic podcast's "Ear In Review", a five hour 2010 recap show, most of the way down, pausing it for The Lovely Steph Leann to snooze a bit here and there. Red Robin drove like a dream, and Sirius Satellite Radio is the most awesome way to listen to the radio, like, ever. Ever ever.
The sign everyone wants to see.
We stop in Tifton around 7am (Eastern time) to eat breakfast at Chick-fila, and she snoozes again. I listen to Stephen King's "Cujo" on audiobook as I drive down 75, and a few hours later, we get on the turnpike. We make a bathroom stop along the way, then finish the last leg of the journey. Anyone who has made this trip enough to be familiar with the landmarks can't help but get excited when they make that turn that says "TAMPA", and then they turn off another exit a few miles down the road, take that left and a few minutes later are greeted with a big arch over the road that says "WALT DISNEY WORLD".
**DAVE'S DISNEY TIP**
If you are driving, and especially if you are going to be on the Turnpike, plan ahead. We had a little bag in Red Robin's console with about 10 one dollar bills and 5 bucks in quarters ready to go, so when we got to the toll booths, there was none of that "looking around for change... honey, you got a buck... we need two more quarters... dang, I guess we will have to give her nickels... make sure you go to the 'gives change' line..." Have your money ready.
The Lovely Steph Leann and I are almost beside ourselves... first, we ARE AT DISNEY WORLD!! Secondly, we are both tired, and I'm exhausted. I'm sooooo looking forward to laying down on the bed, closing my eyes, snoozing, and waking up... well, whenever. The Lovely Steph Leann is also tired and will take a nap, but since she hasn't showered in now over 24 hours, she's looking forward to a hot shower where she can wash her hair and put on some fresh clothes.
We follow the familiar road signs through the familiar roads, and come upon Port Orleans French Quarter. I stop at the gate, look at the old man security guard and say, "Checking in!" The old man at the gate asks for my name, I show him my ID again, and he says, "Don't got know record of your name here checking in." I stare at him for a second, then said, "Uh... yeah, we are checking in. I have a reservation number. We are paid in full." He looked again and said, "Ah yeah, looks like you already checked in at 10a..." I smiled and said, "Yeah, we did online check in, and were going to be here by 10... but we are a little late." It was 1145a. The Lovely Steph Leann is getting impatient. Finally, the old man security guard waves me through, and we drive up to guest parking.
After long last, we arrive, and will be getting showers and naps and... wait, what?
"Can you just go in without me?" she says. "No, what if they want your ID? Come on. We are on vacation. Let's go," I reply. She sighs, puts on her shoes and opens the door. I grab the folder with all of our paperwork, we have our pins around our neck, and we walk to the main hall. Once inside, we are both giddy... we are here! And I'm going to get to sleep in like, 30 minutes, and she'll get a shower in about 30 minutes and its all good and...
"Your room isn't ready yet," the cast member at the desk tells us. "Seriously?" I ask "Yep. Bad weather kept people here a few days extra. Its not guaranteed until 3, anyway." "We know," The Lovely Steph Leann says, and I can tell all the excitement in her voice is gone. "We usually are able to get right in this time of year." "I'll give you a call when the room is ready," the cast member says as she hands us our room packet and our new Keys to the World.
We stumble back to Red Robin and get in. I must tell you that 30 minutes away lives Jason Young, The Lovely Steph Leann's childhood bestie, and lifelong friend. He is married to The White Jada, and they have two kids present, one on the way. Every time we come to the area, we have intentions of getting together, and somehow, we aren't able to do so. Along the trip, The White Jada posts on Facebook telling me that we all need to get together, so The Lovely Steph Leann pipes up, "Maybe we call The White Jada, and see if we can come visit. And get a shower."
Calls to The White Jada were fruitless, however. I finally said, "Well, why don't you get a bag, put in some fresh clothes, and some makeup and whatever else it is that you chicks use to 'freshen up', and go to the bathroom and do just that--freshen up. Take your time. I'll wait in the lobby. You'll feel better, and afterwards, we can eat, or go to the parks or whatever." She agrees, and we spend the next few minutes in the back, me moving suitcases around for her to get into them and get what she needs.
She heads to the restroom to freshen up, and I hang in the lobby, hitting the little gift shop and trade some pins. We've already dropped our luggage off to the bag services guys, and I parked Red Robin by Building 2, which is where our room is supposed to be, and I'm back in the lobby checking on our rooms. She comes out, looking fresh and refreshed, and we walk around a bit, go to the Sassagoula Food Court and have some overpriced burgers, and she asks me to check on the rooms, while she relaxes on a bench outside. "Get us a renovated room!" she asks in her "I'm asking but I'm actually telling you nicely" tone.
Where we were spending the next ten nights, on vacation!
French Quarter is being renovated building by building, and out of the seven buildings, only Buildings 4, 6 and 7 are finished (I believe they are working Building 5 at the time I'm writing this) When I get to the front desk and inquire about our rooms, they tell us that the rooms are ready. I then ask about a renovated room, and the cast member quickly looks and finds us one in Building 7--we just have to return our room keys so they can give us new ones. And our keys are in Red Robin, which is parked by Building 2... so I tell her to hold that thought, and hustle out, past The Lovely Steph Leann sitting on the bench, chatting away on the phone with her sister, and off to Red Robin. I grab the keys, and race back, and get new ones... and off to room 7235 we go!
The renovated rooms are great. We have two double beds, and the double sinks are now surrounded by lots of counter space, new tiles, new borders around the walls, fresh paint... it just looks great. Bell services shows up a few minutes later, our bags are unloaded, the guy is tipped and leaves, and the door is closed.
I ask The Lovely Steph Leann if she's going to take a shower, but before I get most of the question out, she's already sprawled out on the bed, buried in her pillow. I unpack some things, do a few things around the room, and finally, I lay down next to her and both of us are dozing away.
Boy, is it cold outside... (how cold is it?!)... its so cold... that I wanna make like, fifty global warming jokes right now!
It is quite cold, though. And we've had FOUR straight days of snow... thats one-two-three-four, and I don't know that I've seen that here, or at least have been through it. I'm sure you people reading in Detroit and Denver and Boston and Cleveland are saying, "Psshaw! That's nothing! You and your inch of snow..." but its not even the snow so much as it is the ice.
I'm sure that people in New York laugh as us, but you have to understand, its not just the snow, and its not just the ice, its also the bad, bad drivers. People around here barely know how to drive on pleasant, partly sunny and breezy 73 degree days in late April... stick them behind the wheel of a two ton vehicle, toss some ice on the road, knock the thermometer down to below freezing and the a dash of over-correcting, a hint of nervous twitching and some inexperience in the conditions, and you got a mess.... a cold, rainy, icy mess. Yes, NYC drivers are terrible too, but they have experience at being terrible, which makes them pretty good at it.
I almost slipped three times getting out here. Usually, this road, at this time, has hundreds of cars on it.
When I got to Starbucks on Monday morning--we opened late, due to it being so icy and barren--the main highway, that being Highway 280, was empty. I stood in the middle of the north bound lane and snapped a photo at 910 in the morning, a Monday morning, and saw nothing. Nothing but grey skies, a slow moving car, a stalled truck on the side of the road, and dirty ice, sleet and snow spread all over the lanes, over the median, and gloom and cold.
We get deliveries of milk, pastries and essentials (vanilla syrup, espresso beans, etc) a couple of times per week, and when I got in that morning, the milk and supplies had been delivered. The boys who deliver the milk aren't the brightest in the business, I dare say... our big fridge in the back has three doors. 2% milk goes in the fridge door on the left, nonfat goes in the middle, and the rest--whole milk, half-n-half, heavy whipping cream, orange juice--go in the door on the right. Open up that fridge at any time, and its pretty easy to see how it goes.
Yet, our milk guys like to put milk everywhere. Open up the left door, where the 2% milk should go, and you see two shelves of 2%, a shelf of non fat, there will be a shelf of half 2% and half nonfat, and even half-n-half, all shoved disorganized and scattered. Each shelf will hold 20 gallons of milk, but if you just toss them on there higgledy-piggledy, you're lucky to get 15 or 16. Not that I'm expecting these milk boys to organize every single thing as they deliver, its not their job to do so... but seriously. It almost seems like they try and goof it all up on purpose. I've spent many a early morning moving milk around, wiping up leaky dairy on the bottom of the fridge, a dozen jugs of heavy cream strewn about the floor, moving gallons of milk from the top of one shelf to the bottom of another, from the middle of one shelf to the top of another, and so on. But I'm not bitter.
Where was I?
Ah yes, milk deliveries. Well, they delivered Monday morning. We went through Monday, and survived, we got through Tuesday and survived, and come Wednesday morning... the delivery had no come. We were alright, mind you, we had a good forty gallons or so of 2%, but by early afternoon, we were down to 13. You might think "Wow, you went through 27 gallons of milk in one day?" and to that I answer, "Psshaw... we go through 27 gallons of milk before 10am sometimes."
At Starbucks. She looks great. I don't. As usual.
So, Melanie, or MZ as I have called her on this page previously, is not only one of my best friends, she's also my manager. So Best Friend Manager Melanie tells me around 1 to head to Wal-Mart and get some milk, perhaps 20 gallons.
Wal-Mart is our milk destination of choice when we run out, as we've made several trips there over Christmas to buy it. It was never a case of Best Friend Manager Melanie not ordering enough, it was a case of, our fridges not being big enough to hold all of the milk we needed. We'd have 100 to 120 gallons of 2% milk easily on Friday morning, and need milk again by Sunday evening. To Wal-Mart we'd go.
Melanie had to get milk once, and it happened to be a on rainy, dirty, cold Decmeber day when bad weather was approaching, one of those James Spann Takes Your TV Over kind of patterns (sort of like we've had the last few days). So here she is with two shopping carts full of milk, trying to get from the back of Wal-Mart to the front of the store, probably 40 or 50 gallons. And she hears nothing but snide remarks from people, like "That's a lot of milk!" and "Got some kinda party, dontcha?" One kid even said, "You should have just bought a cow." She glared at him. Melanie, love her, but her glare is pretty daunting. As her subordinate, I know this glare well.
Where was I?
Ah, yes, milk. I had my own milk experience a few weeks ago, once again close to bad weather. As I stand by the milk case and put in 33 gallons of milk into my cart, none other than Cindy Jo walks over and makes the obligatory, "You gonna leave some for anyone else?" comment. I told her what I was doing, and Marky Mark Warner then walks over, and says, "You gonna leave some for anyone else?"
And as I pushed the cart through to the register, and of course, had to stand in a line for a few minutes, I heard several comments... I mean, I guess its natural, because you don't see people with 33 gallons of milk in their shopping cart, but for me, its not out of the ordinary. I told the lady in front of me in line that "my wife is obsessed with making sure she doesn't get osteoporosis, so she drinks a heckuva lot of milk" and I told the chick at the register that we were having "one crazy PG party for Christmas!"
This is what a shopping cart filled with 33 gallons of milk looks like
So, my whole point of bringing this up was that I had to go to Wal-Mart today for milk. As I walked into the grocery side, I randomly passed two moms, with their carts parked right in the middle of the main aisle. The carts were angled, with their front corners touched. A mom stood on the handle end of each cart, just chatting away, and as I passed them, I heard one mom say, "Where are you staying?" and I heard the other mom say, "We are staying at The Contemporary."
Must be nice.
Anyway, got to the back of the store, and waited as this older lady just stood in front of the milk door. I assume she was deciding on what she wanted, either 2% (on the left) or whole milk (on the right), but my problem was that I had left the store to come get milk, and really needed to get back. I noticed the older lady had a huge bottle of wine sitting in the middle of her cart, and all I could think was, "This is the last person that needs alcohol..." But, who am I to judge, right? Right.
She finally moved after a minute or two, and I rolled my cart up, opened the door and hauled out 20 gallons of milk. Unlike the previous milk expidition, I heard nary a comment from anyone... after the last four days of snow, ice and cold weather, I guess people thought I was just getting ready for the next round. The moms were still parked in the dead center of the aisle, and as I passed by, I heard the first mom say, "Well, we had a great time when we were there." and the other mom said, "Its Disney, so you know they will..."
What they will do, I never found out because I was in a hurry. Got to the register, waiting in line, and was almost out, almost got away without anyone saying anything... and up walks Big Phil Glassco, father of Rebecca Glassco Figart, and a former stallwart of Valleydale Baptist Church... and Big Phil Glassco says, "Man, you got some milk there, dontcha?" I just smile, shake his hand and say, "Hey, we got caught off guard a few days ago... never again!"
The milk was delivered via Red Robin, and I came home not too long after that... and bundled up, because its cold. Its cold now. And at The Cabana, at this very moment, we have no milk here, and I'd love some. Ironic.
Toni Rocki Honda is showing her age. I guess its expected, as she's fifteen years old now--I've only had over a little over 2 years, and she's only got 123K on her, but at fifteen, part after part is needing to be replaced, little by little, she's costing us a fortune.
My air conditioner went out on me in late August, as I was driving home to Samson for the day. It was working fine until I got to somewhere past Clanton. I stopped at a Hardee's, and after getting my food and getting back in, I heard a small pop of some sort when I started the car. And suddenly, Toni Rocki Honda was just blowing... air. Not cold air. Not cool air. Just air.
Its going to cost close to a grand to get everything fixed in the air, the compressor, the hoses and belts, whatever else. So The Lovely Steph Leann and I have gone back and forth--do we get it fixed, and then hope nothing else breaks, or do we make a plunge and go ahead and get something else... I've never had a new car. Matter of fact, every car I've owned has been nothing but a mechanic's dream--lots of maintenance. I feel like I've had not just a lemon, but a grove. A new car? Wow, that would be amazing.
Anyway, the Mizzus was in Pensacola Thursday night, for work, her time of the month. For the trip, I mean. So I headed on my own to do some reconnaissance work at two places we had discussed... the local Kia dealership and the local Hyundai. I know, I know, there are some people out there now that who hear the word "KIA" and "HYUNDAI" and shiver, and automatically think I'm in the welfare line... they give me the guv'mint Land O'Lakes, the guv'mint Kraft slices and the guv'mint Honda... and ten years ago, absolutely.
I remember some retreat I was involved in around 99 or 2000, and the speaker told a joke that a KIA Sportage is a combo of "Sports" and "Garbage".... but I did some looking on the interweb and it seems that both cars are much more reliable now. Plus, I know people who have newer models of both, and they love them.
So I stopped at Riverchase KIA over on Highway 31, and walked around. After a few minutes, a pleasant guy named Ken came out, shook my hand, and we chatted for a while. He wasn't pushy, he wasn't invasive, he built up KIA while not trashing other brands, telling me that Hondas and Hyundais are good cars, but (of course) he thinks the KIAs are better deals. And one I really liked was the KIA Soul... its a far less gay version of the Mini-Cooper. It might be a little out of my price range, but still...
The 2011 Elantra Touring
I left Ken and KIA and drove over to Tameron Hyundai. Tameron is the dealership that sold The Lovely Steph Leann the Honda she drives, and though I've never had a problem with Tameron, and they have always been nice enough, I don't know that Tameron Honda is where I want to go--likewise, Tameron Hyundai isn't where I'll probably buy a car, but I did want to look at some models, like the Elantra, the Accent and the Santa Fe SUV. I was all about the Hyundai Elantra Touring, a station wagon, but much, much cooler looking. Again, probably out of my price range, but we shall see...
The point of this little anecdote, though, was that at KIA, the guy came out after about ten minutes, which was fine with me. At Tameron Hyundai, I was there over 30 minutes, and not one single person came out to talk to me. Its not that I wanted a bunch of pushy salesman around, but seriously, nobody? Really?
So Friday rolls around, and The Lovely Steph Leann and I make plans to head out to just east of Birmingham, to the Roebuck/Center Point area--not the safest place to travel once night falls, but it was early in the evening, just after five pm.
Serra is a name attached to four or five dealerships along a stretch of Centerpoint Parkway, right next to each other--Serra Chevrolet, Serra Hyundai, Serra Kia, Serra everything else--and our plan was to go by Serra Hyundai. We have both been hearing on the radio "NEW HYUNDAIS FOR $8,000! WE HAVE TO MAKE ROOM FOR THE 2011s! GET A NEW HYUNDAI ACCENT FOR $7000! A NEW ELANTRA FOR $8000!" so we wanted to check it out... now, we are both realists, and we know that it cannot be quite simply "New Car for $8000", but it never hurts to investigate.
Worst case scenario, we come home with no new car, just the paid for cars we already own. Best cast scenario, we plop down $8 grand and I drive home with a brand new Hyunda Elantra. Its possible, even probable, that they were base models, so I told The Lovely Steph Leann we'd have to spend a little more on a radio... what is important to me is an iPod auxiliary jack. I want to be able to plug in my iPod or my iPhone and listen to it, be it a Harry Potter audiobook or Sara Bareilles' new CD, through the car speakers. Yes, I could toss in the CD into the CD player, provided it has one, but that's not the point.
Let's keep in mind, I haven't eaten yet. When I say that, I tell you that I've been at Starbucks at work from about 415am to about 130ish, and on my lunch break, I had to do two things--get tickets for Harry Potter (going the following night), get Melanie something (I told her I would grab her lunch) and get myself something. I had 30 minutes. I zipped down to Chick-fila to grab lunch, but realized I didn't have time to eat. When I eat Chick-fila, I have to doctor up my own sandwich, which takes about five minutes, which I had no time to spare, so I grabbed Melanie's food and then zipped down to the Rave to get tickets, which I did. And after I got off work, I had some errands to run and some other stuff to get done (Translation: I don't remember exactly what I did--it was two days ago) and when The Lovely Steph Leann got home, we jumped in the vehicle, her vehicle, and headed to Center Point. She had a late lunch, so she's not hungry. I'm getting kinda hungry.
Up 280, down I-450, onto I-59, then off to Roebuck Parkway, which turns into Center Point Parkway. The median length forces us to drive past Serra Hyundai, Serra Chevy and Serra KIA, but as I turn around the median, I told The Lovely Steph Leann I wanted to pull into KIA. She asked why, and I told her I wanted to look around. I mentioned that we could walk down to the Hyundai dealership, which is still our original destination. We stop, park, and start looking around. The Forte, the Optima, the Sorrento, the Rio and... The KIA Soul. A cherry red KIA Soul sitting on the end of the row. There was a white one there too, but it was white. And not red.
Its the commercials with the hamsters. Honestly, I remember the hamsters, but didn't connect it was a KIA commercial--or a car commercial, for that matter--until the sales guy mentioned in. Just sayin'.
A salesman comes out, introduces himself as Gene, and begins to tell us whats on sale. We do some looking around, ask some questions, answer some questions, and then the big question gets asked... whats our price range? Ah, that is the query, isn't it.
We look at a KIA Rio, which is a small, tiny four door car that I kinda like, and will do if need be. We take it for a test drive, it drives nice, but there are a few things I'm not excited about. The arm rest for instance--there is no middle console armrest, one that has a lid that you can put stuff in. There is an iPod auxiliary jack, but that's all the radio has to offer. The car is tiny. Of course, when we make it down to Serra Hyundai, the Accent and possibly the Elantra will be not much bigger, so I guess if I don't like the KIA Rio... well...
I will say the Rio drives fine. Its a good little car, it picked up quickly, it was comfy and I'm okay with small cars, because good gas mileage is important to me. With Toni Rocki Honda, I fill up once about every three weeks, though it helps that I live 3 miles from the store and also that we usually take The Lovely Steph Leann's Honda because its a more comfy ride.
We pulled back in and Gene asked us to run some numbers. He did the whole "Now, you don't have to commit to anything, I just want to see what I can do for you." The Serra salesman sell cars across all three dealerships, so he filled us in on the Hyundai $8000 deal... you have to buy two. And that was in the fine print, of course. Yeah, he could have been feeding us some Bantha Poodoo, but makes sense.
Finally, I ask to test drive the KIA Soul. He goes and gets the keys, and we pull out of the lot, a car with 31 miles on it. Its... its just cool. Its just fun. Its bright red, a color that I usually associate with 21 year old guys in Mustangs or convertibles to pick up chicks, and higher insurance rates, so I ask about other colors, and am assured that if I want this car, they'll get me whatever color I want. Of course they will, its a car dealership.
I've already done some research on the KIA Soul, and have liked what I'd seen... its quite safe, it holds appreciation well, its sporty, its not too expensive, its roomier than most cars of its kind and so on. And in driving it... its fun. I like this car. And this is not good, because this thing is brand new! This thing is costly! There's no way we're going to be driving away with a KIA Soul. The Lovely Steph Leann won't allow such a mockery of Dave Ramsey Justice! Right? Right?
I noticed something as we walked around a little afterwards... the KIA Rio is about $1200 more than the KIA Soul. So... if we wanted to get the Rio, which The Lovely Steph Leann liked, then... wouldn't the Soul make more sense? Its bigger... and cheaper?
Smashcut to a half hour later... we are sitting in Gene's little cubicle and he's in front of us, hands clasped, elbows on table, telling us that he wants us to drive off the lot in a new car. Of course he does. This is a car dealership.
The Lovely Steph Leann and I listen to his pitch, and both simply tell him, "No". It was too much. Too much down, too much in car payments, car payments that we were trying to avoid all together. He had written down the details on a piece of paper, and they only would pay $500 for Toni Rocki Honda, which was a travesty in my own mind. Sure, she needs a $1000 repair in air conditioning, but I am pretty sure I could get a grand for her on Craigslist or even the paper, but $500?
And I watch the car salesmen tricks unfold... "Okay, what if I do this? What if [crossing out the number 500 and writing in pen] we give you a $1000 [writing the number 1-0-0-0] for your Honda?" We say "No". "Okay, well what if I say you don't have to put this much down [crosses out the amount down] and you only put this much down [writes down another number] and we say "No".
He says, "Okay, let me go run some more numbers", and runs off to do a credit check, leaving The Lovely Steph Leann and I alone. We start chatting quietly about what we are going to do, and suddenly, getting a new car, the bright red KIA Soul, is a distinct possibility. A real possibility.
The Lovely Steph Leann is the budgeter in our family, the "Nerd", is Ramsey speak. I am the "Free Spirit", the one who spends a little more than he should, so I'm leaning on her, my wife, heavily to help me through this (isn't that the way it should be, really?). She says one single "No way, we can't do this", then I'm not going to fight her for it. I tell her straight up that there is a certain threshold of savings I want to keep in there, and no matter what, we don't go below that. She tells me what the reality is of our budget.
Gene comes back with another set of details and agreements. I smile and simply say, "Okay, man, listen... this is a great deal. We have talked about it, and we agree this is a great deal, but we just don't think we can do it. We weren't looking for car payments, we don't want to kill our savings and really, if we have to say yes or no at this very moment, we'd have to say 'no'." Gene tells us, "I understand. But let me just tell ya, we haven't sold a car today. I'm going to do what it takes to get you into this car." He gets up and runs out.
Gene comes back in, with the same piece of paper, folded over, with words written in Sharpie at the top, saying "XMAS COMES EARLY HO HO HO", with some details on the bottom. And the details are great. I ask Gene to give us a minute to discuss, and he agrees and leaves. The Lovely Steph Leann and I then go to work.
The questions begin... "Can we do it?"... "Do we want to take on a car payment, even for just a little while?"... "We can do it, but do we want to do it?"... "How will this affect how we live?"... "What do we do about Disney World in February, and for that matter, in two weeks?" We talk for about fifteen minutes or so, and The Lovely Steph Leann leans her head back, puts her hands in her hair and just say, "Aarrgghh... this is like buying the house all over again!"
I smile and say, "We either do it or we don't. I like the car, quite a bit. But I'm not bothered if we walk out of here without it. We deal with my Honda for a while, and then we can decide how much money to put into it. Or, we take the plunge, deal with it for a while, and have a reliable car for a long, long time. What do you think?"
Again, she says, "Aaargghh!" and then laughs uncomfortably. Gene comes back in and asks what we think, holding out the paper with a line on the bottom. Without saying much, The Lovely Steph Leann just leans over and signs the paper.
We just bought a car. Its an awesome car. Its a 2011 KIA Soul, complete with a bright red exterior, four doors, a hatchback, Sirius Radio, an iPod auxiliary jack, 31 miles when I drove it off the lot and, unfortunately, for the first time in over three years since we have been debt free, a car payment. Just don't tell Dave Ramsey.
John Lennon once sang, "Nobody told me there'd be days like these, strange days indeed..." and I believe it. Its kind of a catch phrase, or something you say to someone to tell them that its been "one of those days"... you know, when you ask someone, "You ever have 'one of those days'?"
I want to preface this by saying that my "one of those days", when put into perspective, is diddlypoop... my friend MZ had her husband struck in the face by a car last weekend. Painting in a parking lot of his restaurant, he was hit by a car. I won't go into details, but I will say he's beat up pretty bad. I saw both of them today and she's exhausted, having spent most of her week at the hospital, and he's in constant pain from what the doctors are having to do.
Then you have Kristi, the wife of Andy, who is the middle school pastor at Valleydale Church (an sbc fellowship, natch). Kristi's brother was hit by a car in Tuscaloosa a few days ago. And this morning, they took him off of life support.
So... my issues and daily grumblings mean nothing in the grand scheme of things.
But truly, Mr. Lennon, no one told me there'd be days like these... well, that's not true. Anyone who's read Scripture will tell you that there are always days like these. Strange days indeed.
Because of MZ's absence, I've been at work by 435 in the morning every day this week, but I'm not complaining... usually that puts me off of work by mid-afternoon. Well, Tuesday morning, I woke up a little later than I wanted... I am out of the shower and walking out the door at 430, but this day I woke up at 430. I did that "disoriented, staring at the clock, trying to figure out what is going on and what time it is and what I'm supposed to be doing" thing when you wake up at an abnormal time. Skipping my shower, I didn't get to work until about 450, almost 5am, and it threw me completely off.
I spilled coffee grounds all over my sandwiches.
I dropped my tray of sandwiches all over the floor.
One of our registers went down. Again.
One of our girls got her schedule mixed up and was really late.
I got confused on the order I was supposed to be putting in.
And I really, really, REALLY wanted a shower. Seriously.
So, I'm standing at the bar, making drinks, steaming some soy to go into a venti no water no foam 6 pump soy chai, and contemplating. Well, I guess I wasn't contemplating, it was more of a "well, this is just great, this day is turning out to be a real winner, gee whiz..." in the most mental sarcastic tone I could muster.
The music that plays in the cafe is hard to hear when you are behind the bar. Sometimes you hear it, sometimes the noise of steaming pitchers mixed with blenders mixed with the general ambiance of a Starbucks cafe at drive time can prevent you from hearing anything happening out in the cafe, regardless of the fact its a few feet away.
Well, on this morning, I heard something. Namely, I heard The Bee Gees. Starbucks has this "Opus" series, which for each artist represented, is a collection of their most famous, best and sometimes most powerful work... I actually own the Marvin Gaye Opus, and its quite good ("Can I Get a Witness" is remarkable). Currently, we are selling The John Lennon Opus and now, The Bee Gees Opus, and to support it, there is a Bee Gees playlist with "Stayin' Alive", "More Than a Woman", "Islands in the Stream" and the song I heard overhead at this moment... "How Deep Is Your Love".
And for some reason, it made me think of God. It made me think of our Creator, the One who loves us. Me. And as the chorus played, and I thought about my morning as a whole, it suddenly didn't seem that bad. I thought to myself, "God, how deep is your love, how deep, is your love, how deep.... is your love. I'm living in a world of fools, breaking me down, when they all should let me be..." The "na na na nana" played, though that didn't seem as fitting.
How deep is Your love, God, how deep is Your love, How deep is Your love. Cause we're living in a world of fools, breaking us down. When they all should let us be. I belong to You, not me.
I believe in You. You know the door to my very soul. Your the light in my deepest darkest hour, Your my Savior when I fall, and though it may not seem that I care for You, You know deep down inside I really do. And every day You show... How deep is Your love, God, how deep is Your love...
And somehow, through the shrill voice of Barry Gibb, things were a little better. Sometimes I just need a reminder.
"And the white line's getting longer and the saddle's getting cold, I'm much too young to feel this dadgum old. All my cards are on the table with no ace left in the hole, I'm much too young to feel this cotton-pickin' old" -- Garth Brooks
So, as I sit here in my easy chair in The Cabana, new big screen playing one of my favorite movies of all time, the time has passed, that time being 815p. I'm now officially 35 years old, officially in my mid-thirties. The years have been good to me, I'm blessed beyond any form of measure, from my upbringing, to my mother taking care of me, to my grandparents adopting me and giving me all that I needed (and a few things I wanted)
So here's my rundown, year by year, of some things I'm blessed with and happy for in all my 35 years.
1975 My mother giving birth. And keeping me. That's awesome.
1976 The year that Stephanie was born. Yeah, I could go with her later on, since I won't meet her for another 25 years, but I'm pretty happy for 1976.
1977 Star Wars is released. What a great film, what a great
1978 "Garfield" makes it debut. Who doesn't love Garfield?
1979 The Muppet Movie. The Muppet Show. And my affinity for the Muppets begins.
1980 The Empire Strikes Back, one of the greatest films of all time, and one of my first real movie-going experiences.
1983 Scarecrow & Mrs. King. Man, I loved this show.
1984 Samson, baby! From Austin, Texas, to what would become my own little home town....
1985 Chris McCall, my first real Samson friend at Samson Elementary School.
1986 Tonya Windham. Had to mention her.
1987 Greg Avant. Completing my Triad of BFFs in Samson, Greg and I go waaay back. I saw a ton of really crappy movies with him, riding in this little LTD Ford that, were you to wash it and remove the clay and dirt, would leave nothing but two seats and a steering wheel.
1988 Rush Limbaugh hits the airwaves as a nationally syndicated radio program. And good thing too, because not only was Clinton around the corner, but He Who Must Not Be Re-Elected was down the pike.
1989 Hollywood Studios! Yay! Even though it was 18 more years before I could visit, at least it was open!
1990 Discovered the Interweb, sitting at Greg Avant's house. He had this thing on his little black screened, orange lettered computer called "Prodigy". We looked up movie reviews. It tapped into his phone line. Completely weird. We were on it for like, five hours. And I'm sure the phone bill that month at the Avant house was larger than normal.
1991 What a year for movies! "Silence of the Lambs"... "New Jack City"... "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves"... "The Last Boy Scout"... "T2: Judgement Day"... "Beauty & the Beast"... "Boyz in the Hood"... "Dead Again"... and I'm sure I saw a bunch of them with Greg at some point.
1992 "I'd Die Without You" by PM Dawn is released, off of one of my favorite random album, the soundtrack to the movie "Boomerang". This would be my favorite song for the next 16 years, only to be slightly replaced by "Possession" from Sarah McLachlan.
1993 Troy State University! Go Trojans!
1994 Wookiee. Wookiee. Wookiee.
1995 A few days into the year, I met up with Reggie McAllister at a Farmhouse Fraternity Party. And there, the seed was planted... and a few hours later, in my bedroom at 3am, I accepted Christ as my own Savior. And the road has been awesome.
1996 The BCM. And this is where I would meet some of the most important people in my life, like Jenn Mullturp, Shelby, Troy Mac, Rad a Tad, Hinson and more.
1997 Farmhouse Fraternity. Never been a Greek kind of guy, but I did love the social aspect and brotherhood in my frat.
1998 Birmingham! I just figured out, like, just now, that I have lived in Birmingham, AL, longer than I have lived anywhere else in my entire life. Seriously... Orlando for two or three years, Austin for about five or six, Samson for nine, Troy for five
1999 Valleydale BAPTIST Church. It has always been an sbc fellowship, however.
2000 The Deuce is founded. Life changing experience.
2001 Common Ground. It was a church ministry for those in-betweeners who had just left college and really had nowhere to go, and for those in college. I guess "College & Career" would be more like it, but "Common Ground" sounded better.
2002 WalkAbout. The drama team of middle schoolers that have enhanced my life in every possible way.
2003 Starbucks. I loved my job then, I love it now.
2004 Married my life partner, soul mate, best friend.
2005 My iPod. Has revolutionized how I listen to music, and finally introduced me to podcasts.
2006 This site. Now, I know it started in 2005, but it really got going this year.
2007 Dave Ramsey. What can I say? His plan is difficult. But it works. We're proof.
2008 Disney. I loved that job. I miss it.
2009 Steven & Calah Ray. We love these guys, always good for dinner at Mellow Mushroom.
2010 MZ. My manager and very, very dear friend, and I count it a blessing and honor to have her as both.
This is by no means a comprehensive list... there were a dozen things or more in some years I could have listed. So, there are 35 things for 35 years, random things I like, love, count as blessings and favorites.
I'll leave you with this... the video for Toby Keith's "Ain't As Good As I Once Was"...
I used to be Hell on wheels... back when I was younger man, now my body says 'You can't do this boy', but my pride says 'Oh, yes you can.' I ain't as good as I once was, that's just the cold hard truth. I still throw a few back, talk a little smack when I'm feeling bullet proof. So don't double dog dare me now, 'cause I'd have to call your bluff. I ain't as good as I once was, but I'm as good once as I ever was.
Maybe not be good as I once was, but I'm as good once as I ever was...
I'm a big fan of "Stuff Christians Like", a blog that started some years back, written by a Christ Follower named Jon Acuff who thinks a little outside of the box, is full of humor and can write a wicked serious column when he needs too... perhaps one day I can achieve his success and though we have slightly different writing styles, I would be more likely to adapt to his than he to mine. (he's also written a book which you can find here)
Let's be honest... I'm actually hoping that one day I will write something that someone else will read and post on their own site saying something like, "I read 'Clouds' alot, and its awesome and here's today's post which is awesome and d$ is awesome and awesome awesome awesome..." That would be awesome. Enough self-ego inflating...
Anyway, one particular post caught my attention, and I will copy and paste it here for your reading, though I want to be quick to point out that I didn't write it, add to or detract from it, and if you follow the above links you'll find not only this same column but his stellar site. You can also find it amongst the blogroll on the right side. I guess its also worthy of noting that Acuff didn't actually write this either, its just posted on his site (as I did on mine) from columnist blogger Rachel Held Evans.
Jon Acuff posts/Rachel Evans writes:
"SECRETLY BEING A LIBERAL" (I don’t write about politics that often because it’s not a topic I can write about very well. There are so many good political blogs that I tend to avoid it. Plus, political comments usually get really ugly, really quickly. But my friend Rachel is going to change that. Today, she checks in with a funny look at the secret life of Christian liberals. Enjoy.)
Last month, Jon Acuff wrote a piece for CNN.com about Christians treating secular media like Satan’s newspaper. A faithful reader of both SCL and The New York Times, I laughed along until about midway through the article when Jon joked that Christians are “pretty sure Fox News is baptizing people in their lobby,” at which point I completely lost my sense of humor.
It is an unspoken rule among liberals that only one Jon is allowed to make us laugh about Fox News—and it’s Stewart, not Acuff. But how was Jon supposed to know? He’s an evangelical Christian, which means he is statistically obligated to have only one liberal friend.
So as a Christian and an occasional democrat…(yes, we do exist)…I’ve decided to be that friend, offering SCL a brief list of stuff liberal progressive Christians like:
1. Calling ourselves “progressive” instead of “liberal’ The word liberal (like evolution and sex) carries with it negative connotations in the Christian subculture, and is often used in the context of play-by-play accounts from a pastors or Sunday school teachers about the dangers of competitive slippery slope sliding. Progressive is better. People like Jesus and Donald Miller are considered progressive. Progressive communicates the fact that we’re not headed down, but forward…and just a little to the left.
2. Assuming our daily fair-trade latte from Starbucks makes us committed to social justice I may drive a gas-guzzling clunker to Wal-mart to buy a trunk full of out-of season fruit, but I’m certain that the steam pouring off of my free trade Cinnamon Dolce Latte is a sweet aroma to God.
3. Agreeing with the Democratic Party on everything except abortion I am one of many progressive Christians in the unhappy predicament of supporting things like health care reform and environmental stewardship, while remaining steadfastly pro-life. To compensate for our insecurity about this situation, we progressives like to try to one-up conservative pro-lifers by noting that we’re also against the death penalty and war. This does little to actually advance the conversation, which usually ends with people yelling at one another about who is being more judgmental. Sorry about that.
4. NPR To borrow a metaphor from a friend, we progressives are pretty sure that Ira Glass is mystically distributing the Eucharist through the airwaves during “This American Life.”
So, what would you add to the list? What else do progressive Christians like? (Conservatives, please don’t say “going to hell,” as it kinda hurts our feelings and messes with the whole Christian unity thing.)
(Rachel Held Evans is a liberal progressive Christian from Dayton, Tennessee, home of the Scopes Monkey Trial of 1925. Her first book, “Evolving in Monkey Town” officially releases with Zondervan in July, but is currently available on Amazon. She blogs at rachelheldevans.com.)
I did scan the comments, and found one in particular to be of interest, and by interest, I mean hilarious... "Justin" writes:
I'm somewhat more conservative than liberal, although I certainly listen to NPR (except Ira Glass, his voice is like a freshman at a college radio station) and am sick of the culture war politics and right-wing talk radio is only rivaled in annoyingness by Sojo ;)
Still, here's a few things I noticed Liberal Evangelicals like (and I like some of these too, I'll happily admit).
- Saying "God is not a Republican," conceding to add "nor a Democrat" if pushed. - Begrudgingly admitting that Bush did a stellar job with his AIDS initiatives in Africa. - Jim Wallis - Watching Fox News, Complaining about Fox News - Derek Webb - Social Justice, endlessly arguing about exactly what "Social Justice" is. - Begrudgingly admitting that Rick Warren's got a good sense of missions and social justice - Thinking about being Catholic up until the point they talk about celibacy and birth control. - Billy Graham (because he's a Democrat, and he seems to like all the Presidents equally) - Portraying Mormon Glen Beck, Catholic Sean Hannity, and lapsed mainliner Rush Limbaugh as representatives of conservative Evangelicalism. - Bono - Francis Collins (me, too -- he rocks! Yay for Obama for nominating him.)
Okay, back to me again... hope you enjoyed it, and if you find your way to this site, Mr. Acuff, I hope its alright that I posted, giving you full credit...
Well, here we are again. What started out as a temporary job to pay the bills, earn some extra money and put a ring on the finger of one Stephanie Leann Campbell has now culminated into a 7+ year process that has taken me from barista to shift supervisor to assistant manager to manager to barista to shift supervisor... and now, back, better than ever, some may say, back to assistant manager.
One of the most common questions, after the initial "Why is the store closing?" and "What are y'all gonna do with the stuff up top?", is "What are you going to do after The Happiest Place in the Mall closes?" The answer to that has simply been, "Gonna go back to Starbucks for a while." I explained this further in one of The Happiest Place in the Mall closing posts, but usually the follow up question to "Gonna go back to Starbucks" is "Oh, are you going to be a manager again?"
Its always said with curiosity, never asked with any malcontent or harm, but its always assumed that I can just say, "I wanna be a manager!' and boom! its done. However, its not that easy... not only is it hard to get back to that position after stepping down and being away from it for two years, it wasn't something I was sure I even wanted.
I had a conversation with one of the Bean Kings (aka, the Starbucks Higher Ups) and they asked me if I would consider a return to management one day. I told him yes, if--and only if--the situation was right. I managed a store before... I loved it. I loved leading the team, but it was hard for a number of reasons, some of which were beyond my own control. I don't mean the work was hard, though it was, I mean the situation was tough.
So, if the situation was right, perhaps a store that I had always wanted, then sure, I'd be willing to go back. Until then? Don't need the stress, really.
And the pieces slowly fell into place, like God putting together a jigsaw puzzle that I didn't even know was a picture. First, I was transferred to the Starbucks on 280, near Highway 119. Don't confuse that with the store I used to work at, on 280, in front of The Fresh Market and Jason's Deli... no, the store I'm working in is down 280 a bit, near The Fish Market. Fish, not Fresh. Say it with me, Fish... not Fresh... Fish... not Fresh... Fish... not Fresh...
Next, MZ took over. She's so great, and over the last year, she's turned into such a great manager. She's still learning, and I think that is part of her charm... she has no problem admitting "Hey, I have no idea. Let's figure this out together" which is awesome. And then, the store gets all kinds of attention. MZ was given Manager of the Quarter for the area/region. The Bean Kings know about this store, meaning its in the spotlight.
Finally, its successful. There is money to be made, You want to be seen, you have a great shot by working at this store, because this store is in the spotlight and is being noticed by people of importance.
And what about this is bad? I love the company, I love the work, I love the team. We have a great team at that store, and so after thinking about it, praying about it, and discussing it, I kinda decided that yes, this was the right situation. The Lovely Steph Leann is so wonderful about everything too... she always says, "Do what makes you happy. We're fine either way. I'll support you." Can't ask for more than that...
I wasn't assuming anything, but the job was finally offered to me recently. It was a great offer, my questions were answered favorably, my fears were put to rest and... well, here I am. Assistant manager once again. Something's always brewing, but it keeps me grounded.
By the way, the foot is fine. A little scarring on the ankle, but it will eventually go away.
HAVE A SIX FLAGS DAY I recently purchased a Six Flags season pass. I haven't been to Six Flags in many years, since Goliath was brand spanking new, and I remember two things about that middle school trip I went on... first, Goliath was awesome. Second, the park was just dirty. I mean, really dirty.
In addition to the trash that lined the curbs, the "I don't give a rip" attitudes of many of the workers there, and the scenery and ride queues that seemed worn, faded and old, I always recall the gum spots on the Batman wall, and on the floor of the Superman ride as you are coming back to the station. As you are harnessed in, facing down, many people will spit gum out of their mouth onto the platform... and its gross.
I called up my buddy Shawn and told him I had my season pass and a free ticket that came with it, and as long as he could cover his own lunch, I'd take him. He was in full agreement, and we met up the next day around 9 and took off. A few hours later, we are pulling up into the Daffy Duck Row 7 line in the parking lot, and walking in. We immediately go on the Georgia Scorcher, waiting about 20 minutes to get on. I figure this is good, because 20 minutes is a decent, short wait for a ride, and if we can wait this long for all of them, then we'll be in the good shape.
I was wrong. We walked onto the Georgia Cyclone, Thunder River (he got soaked, I got my feet wet), the Ninja, The Great American Scream Machine and The Dahlonega Mine Train, and the only reason it took 15 minutes to get on Superman, Batman and Goliath is because we waited for the front of the line. After Batman, Shawn needed a coaster break, so I took on The Mind Bender alone... front car, no wait. I even closed my eyes during the ride, which I love doing on roller coasters.
The Ninja sucks. Always has. Its jerky, its rough and its not entertaining. And I'm not alone in this assessment, as its Wiki page says, "it is the least popular U.S. major roller coaster as voted by people on ThemeParkInsider, ThemeParkCritic, and other review sites." But, I ride it anyway.
I know much of the park was flooded last year, so I'm sure that helped spur along renovations and improvements, but I was impressed by everything. The workers (team members? associates? Six Flaggers?) all wear bright green shirts so they can easily be spotted, and most that I encountered had smiles and friendly attitudes, and cheered you on with "Have a Six Flags day!".
Some of the rides now have sponsors... Axe Body Spray is logo'd over The Ninja, which strikes me as kinda funny. The Mind Bender sports the green color again on the tracks, and the new cars (a little too sleek--I kinda miss the boxy cars) have question mark decorations down the side. No, not for the Riddler, like it was fifteen years ago, but because Stride sponsors this ride now. The Scorcher has brand new cars, with the flames on it now blue--Georgia Gas is the sponsor.
Over the six hours we were there, we rode everything we wanted, with minimal lines. They have deals for drinks now, like a bottle of water is $3, but you can get 2 for $5 (which is what we did), and the ice cream sandwich I had was pretty good too. Monster Plantation, which was in such dire need of an overhaul, got one. The music is crisp and loud, the boats are comfy enough and remodeled, and the animatronics, silly as they are, are full of fur and worked perfectly. The song is annoying as ever, but at least its understandable.
Overall, I was pleased with the day. The temperature wasn't too bad, the lines were short, and I was hanging with a good friend, which is the best way to enjoy a good roller coaster. While we were in the front row of Goliath, as it was cresting the first big hill (by the way, that coaster is terrifying, which is awesome) I could see the parking lot that was only a third full.
We ended the day by stopping at Texas Roadhouse, where I dined on a delmonica steak and cheese fries. Good times, good times indeed.
THE CURSE OF SIKES & KOHN'S If you travel down Highway 231, either from Montgomery headed to Troy, or headed to Monkeytown from Troy, you'll travel through, or at least near, a tiny little town called Pine Level. I know very little about Pine Level, except that there is a South Alabama icon there.
The place is called Sikes and Kohn's Country Mall, or Sikes and Kohn's (pronounced "kahn's") for short. And I hate this place.
Even before you get anywhere close to Sikes and Kohns, you'll see the billboards... oh, will you see the billboards. Large, painted signs telling you that you'll find shoes like Allen Edmunds, Cole Haan and Saucony, jeans like Levi's, Lee and Wranglers, clothes from Lauren, Tommy and Jordache all at Sikes and Kohns Country Mall.
Oh, I have nothing against Mr/Mrs Sikes or Mr/Mrs Kohn's, nor do I take any offense at the nature of the store. Its a bit overpriced for my tastes, but there are a few good deals to be had in there, if you look hard enough. They sell everything from camo to cowboy hats, boots to bolo ties, and there is an entire wall devoted to men's and women's belts.
No, the reason I dislike this place is because everytime I go there, my car breaks down. The first time I went, while in college, I stopped for some unknown reason--I'm sure it wasn't to shop. This was when I had my green Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. I went inside, and when I came back out, nothing. No turnover, no sound, nothing. Had to call a tow truck, and it was terribly overpriced.
Another time, I had driven down to visit Allysong and Shelby and Jenn Mullterp and Rad a Tad, and was on my way back when I had to stop and use the facilities. So, without thinking about it, I pulled into Sikes & Kohns Country Mall. Parked on the gravel lot, ran inside, use the powder room, came back out, started up, and was pulling out of the lot when my car started making a really, really funny noise.
Instead of going left, I went right, back down 231 to a small gas station/repair shop that I had passed. They spent about three hours fixing it. And as I crossed the median on 231 to take that left to head back to Birmingham, the car started... jumping. And surging. And stalling. So, back to the gas station. Then, it was towed to Troy. Allysong drove out and picked me up. Tow trucks on Sunday? Expensive.
So, skip ahead like, 12 years or something, to this past April. With a four day break between the ending of The Happiest Place in the Mall and the beginning of Starbucks full time, I decided I would take a few days to visit Mom in Samson. And on the way down, I started seeing the signs for Sikes and Kohns. I tensed.
It was time. It had been too long. The curse had warded over me for over a decade, so much so that I drove past it, never wanting to stop. But not this day. Not this time. If I was ever going to beat Sikes and Kohns, it was time to do so. With Toni Rocki Honda, no less, a 15 year old car that, if any car was going to break down, would be it.
Finally, I saw the big arrow sign, and Sikes and Kohns was here. I slowed down, pulled into the turning lane, and turned into the lot. I found a spot close to the front--it was a Tuesday late morning, so it wasn't crowded--parked and turn Toni Rocki Honda off. I got out, and went inside the building. I figured any stay had to be at least five minutes, otherwise it wouldn't count... I wanted this Curse of Sikes and Kohns dispelled once and for all.
I walked around inside, browsing the shirts and jeans, and observed the Wall O'Belts near the front. Nodded that "hi, how ya doing, no I don't need help, but I want to acknowledge your standing there" head nod to the cashier, and finally, went outside. Keys in hand, I unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel. Took a deep breath, turned they key...
...Toni Rocki Honda started to life. I exhaled. Put 'er in D, drove down the driveway and out onto 231... and drove away . The curse was done. It was over. I would now no longer be afraid to stop at Sikes and Kohns Country Mall. I don't know that I'll have any reason to stop there anyway, but now it won't be a purposeful not-stopping-there.
And just to add some drizzle to the cake, the gas station that I had my car serviced, and further broken, at is now just an abandoned building.
I win.
MORNING TIME While I'm at Starbucks now, working, I'll wear a drive thru headset... even if I'm not on the window, I'll have it on to assist those who are in the window by getting sandwiches, or pastries, or restocking cups or whatever. In the morning, its usually pretty busy, so I hear one beep after another, as one car after another comes to the speaker to order, but every now and again, there's a break. And in that break, I can hear... well, I can hear birds. Birds chirping. And singing. And as I listen to those birds chirping, even for a brief few seconds, it makes me think I'm 8 years old again.
When I was a kid, my mom and I would take a trip down to Florida for part of the summer. My aunt-then, sister-now (there's a story there, I promise, but for later), lived in Winter Garden, and I'd get to hang out with my cousin April, and it was awesome. We were young enough to sleep in the same room, as boys and girls do at that age, and I remember waking up early in the morning to those birds.
There would be a box fan in the window, and the peaceful hum of that fan would keep me drifting in and out of consciousness for most of the morning. I would open my eyes just enough to see that it was early, the light in the room dim, I could barely make out the features in the room. Sometimes, even with the box fan in the window, we'd still leave the window open and the morning's cool air would be in the room. It was Florida, mind you, and it would get hot... but not yet.
And, the cool outside air circulating with the box fan's air, the dim light in the room getting a little bit brighter every few minutes, me on my little bed with the blanket pulled up to my neck, April the next bed over... and I hear the birds sing.
Just like at Starbucks this morning.
Speaking of fans...
A FAN OF THE FAN There is very little better than a good fan. The Lovely Steph Leann has always had issues allergies and sinuses, so a ceiling fan whirring all night long might keep her cool at night, but there is a wheezy, stuffy price to pay in the morning.
During the summer, we try to be conscience of the thermostat, because we'd rather spend money at Disney World than pay a $250 power bill every month... so it can get a little toasty in our room. But on those days when she is gone, when I sleep alone, I turn that fan on high. I crawl into bed, and pull up my favorite mom-handsewn butterfly quilt and let the cool breeze rush around me.
But my favorite? When I was a kid at home, my parents let me used a small, oscillating fan (there is never use of the word "oscillating" unless the word "fan" is after it) that I would set on a metal folding chair. I'd use books to set it on to get just the right height, then hit that button in the back to make it turn.
That breeze from the fan going back and forth over the length of your body is awesome. You feel it on your face for about two seconds, then its gone, as the air moves down your body laying there under the sheet. Then, if you set it up just right, it would hit your feet for about two seconds, then head back towards your head again. That was a glorious feeling.
Movie reviews for about a dozen movies coming this weekend
