The Concrete Spider Web

If you've never been in Dallas, know that you are missing out on a serious civil engineering masterpiece/disaster center.

Roads on roads on roads.

In a ten mile drive, I can switch highways more than four times and have it take me over an hour to make the drive.

Other times, I can make a 30 mile trip in 30 minutes.

It's a death trap where I spend the majority of my time thinking, "THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS".

I am in Texas this time for a 3 week recruiting trip. Since last Sunday night, I've battled head on the pit of despair through the Dallas streets. Sometimes, it's nice. I have time to process the day and think.

Other times, my hands and heart sweat so badly that I can hardly think.

After a week of that, it was nice to have a break in the form of my husband.

Since I'm gone for so long, my university flew him out to me for the weekend.

Even though part of that was spent recruiting (what a champ!), it was also so nice to be able to chill, watch HGTG and FoodNetwork, and wander the DFW area.

Notable highlights in our shopping ventures were introducing Jay to World Market and Half Price Books.

He was just the cutest exploring all the different cultures and thinking up ways he could recreate all the different wood pieces.
Half Price Books was a perfect storm. Two nerds, together, and inexpensive books and nerd paraphernalia. We ended up with quite the haul.

Then, we grabbed a crepe together at a sweet little cafe called Frogg, and made our way to the airport.

It's not very nice to abandon your husband two months after you get married, but we are making it work. Texting is a beautiful thing.

When I get unstuck from the tangles of traffic, it'll be very nice to go home.

Nowata Pond

Each week (that I'm not working or otherwise in Texas), Julius and I go to craigslist Bible study together.

To get there from my little baby town, we take Highway 16, which is a deathpath of twists, small lanes, dumb, running woodsy creatures, and Arkansas drivers. And, because of the winter, darkness. No street lights to be found. It can be pretty terrifying. For Julius. He holds on. I'm not proud of that, but it's also not completely my fault.

We've been driving for weeks on this road and have thought we've gotten to know it pretty well.
Then, Daylight Savings happened.

It's light at 6:20pm when we leave.

The entire drive there, it was: "Woah! Look at that field of sheep!"
"Woah! That barn has a roof of solar panels!"
"Woah! Since when was there a church there!"

And my personal favorite: "Woah! Wait. That's not a lake?"

That's right. There's a certain place on the road that we were both convinced was a big pond.
It's a giant hole filled in with gravel. I guess neither of us ever thought it was odd that there was no reflection.

Darkness and light. It changes everything.

Things you thought were beautiful and good turn out to be a pit of black rocks.
Things you thought were nothing turn out to be full of life. And sheep.

For me it was just a reminder that life isn't always what it seems, both good and bad.
And what's fascinating is that you aren't able to know what's what except through discovery or time.

If we had pulled off to go check out the "pond", we would have had our imaginings about it disillusioned pretty fast. Otherwise, like what happened, it took the seasons changing for us to be shown the truth of the matter.

The Driving Force

Driving in Texas is unlike any form of automotive interaction that I've ever experienced.
However, I had one main foundational fallacy. I once believed that all drivers in Texas were like Dallas drivers. Not so. Each city has its own personality.

Dallas drivers are deliberate. They're like smart bombs. They know  their trajectory and approach with precision. They may cut dead in front of you but believe you me, they were over there thinking, "I'm approaching at equal to above average pacing, with a half car distance between us. Lane change in 5, 4, 3, 2, NOW." It's incredible. I love driving with them, even if they do go an average of 14 over the speed limit.

The drivers of Austin are more cautious and are on the polite side of things. In my experience, the austin-ers just want to be friends. They most closely resembled the drivers of Tulsa, in my opinion.

San Antonio was the one that threw me off the most. Pretty consistently it was a solid five under the speed limit. They are both hesitant in lane changes as well as haphazard in all moves. Arkansan drivers would find much in common with them. I would never have guessed that I would feel more anxiety driving with them at a slow pace than I do with the "crazy" Dallas drivers.

Tyler, thus far, is much like Austin. They're not in a particular rush, but they seem very conscious of their driving, which I appreciate.

There's one more week in Dallas and one new city to add: Longview. 22 days in Texas is a really long time. This week I'm starting to feel it a little bit. Still fun! But feeling the separation from my friends back at the office. And starting to get concerned about the inches of work piling up on my desk...

But wow. When I get oober frustrated, I always seem to have one interaction that makes up for it, be that on the phone with one of my new applicants or with a student at a school or fair I visit.
It's surreal and so real and awesome to be at one of those events and think, "I wonder which ones of you will be the new SMLT director/worship leader/honors council member in just a few years". And I get to be a piece of getting them here, just like Ryan Terry was for me. How very cool.

That's my driving force: pre-visioning the future of my (hopefully) students.

Kickin' Beats and Taking Names

Today, Texas melted my cupcake.

That is not innuendo for anything.
My first of two college fairs today gave me a cupcake.
I put said cupcake in car as I navigated my way across the Dallas ring.
And it melted.

Melted.
Cupcake.

...

How.

Other than feats of physics (Is that physics? I'm not sure. I was, after all, a creative writing major, not a science major), I have already started learning some things about Texas and college recruiting.

1. I am not made for Dallas driving. It makes me want to repent of all my sins and update my will.
2. Making friends with other reps is actually a really good idea. It's fun to exchange ideas on how we're doing things differently/similarly. Also, if you're both trying to work a difficult area, you can exchange schools/contacts to help one another just get in. 
3. Give yourself super extra time to get places. You will get lost. Even if you see the school, you are not in the clear. Find the high school office then give me a call.
4. Bring more than one phone charger and put it in an accessible place.
5. Pack snacks. This is one is more like a life rule, but really. Snacks, guys.
6. Casually dressing in your school colors makes you so cool. It wasn't my idea; I actually saw a very hip sort of girl at another college fair do it then my own boss and have since been very cognizant to ask myself the question, "Does this come in navy or gold?" Today, for instance, I am sporting the yellow/gold bridesmaid dress I wore in my best friend Caity's wedding (yah that's right I actually wore it again. Can YOU say that about any of your bridesmaid dresses?) with a blue striped scarf. And I feel very school-spirited without being all up in your face about it.
7. It is difficult to have road rage when you are listening to the Bible on audiobook.
8. Dallas has a bollywood radio station: "Fun Asian Radio." Top notch. Even the commercials. I especially enjoyed the inspirational hit: Roobaroo by A.R. Rahman and Naresh Iyer. I'm not being ironic. It has a beat you won't be able to resist decoratively twisting your hands to.

Today thus far I have had a classroom visit and a college fair. In an hour I have another college fair.

It's going well so far. Only one student took a snooze on me today. In all fairness, the music on my promo videos is really soothing.

I think I enjoy talking with students just as much as I enjoy talking to their parents. Don't even get me started on my "momference" idea. I may have one at the end of September. It's pending. But I for sure have one scheduled for October, and I am stoked for it.

Moms gotta mom. I get that.

Time to leave Starbucks for my second college fair today.

Two For The Books (or blog)

What do we not see in this picture, folks? 

Can anybody tell me? 

An obnoxious, red "MaintReq" light. 

Baby's first oil change! 

Day 2 of adulting went indefinitely different than Day 1. 

I boldly walked into Benton County Tires, (with my car key pre-taken off the ring), announced my name and appointment time, told them the year and make of Beastie (my Rav), handed over the keys and my coupon, and took a seat while the professionals did their thing. 

Now, I have a light-less car and may have even had my tires rotated. Still not sure why that is a helpful thing, but mostly I'm excited about the light being off. 

To temper my "adult" move, here's a picture of how I accidentally closed a tree branch into my car door. 

While we're on the topic of being a responsible adult, here's another small win that I've been waiting to reveal until it became a pattern, not an idea.

I wake up at the ungodly time of 5:30.
I started this last week during MomWeek2014.
Except this time, I was the mom.
TO MY DOG

Needless to say, it was magical. I could smatter this whole post with pictures of our moments together, but that would reveal just how obsessed I am with my small creature...

ANYWAY, little man wakes up at 5:30 (ish).
So, I started waking up them, feeding him, taking a bike ride, coming home to do my morning devos, then writing my thesis for an hour before getting ready for work.

I am still behind on submission schedule (was meant to submit a first full draft last saturday) but I edited my first chapter and wrote a second one doing this system.

What it's gonna take to get this done is channeling crazy college jamie.
There's a lot about her that I hope to never, never revive, but college jamie knew how to get crap done. That's for sure.

Goal finish date for chapter 1 is Monday.
Ready go.

The Path to Adulthood is Slippery

When I was a kid, I sucked at almost everything.
Because, duh, I was a kid.

I have this pretty ugly habit, though.
Of HATING things that I suck at.
So, naturally, I hated most activities.

Mostly I liked to swim.
I was good at swimming.
I'm still good at swimming.

Kids' parties which involved ice skating or roller skating were the worst. I would not even condescend to try and participate.

My very kind and socially aware mother put me in ice skating lessons. roller skating lessons. tennis lessons. volleyball lessons. basketball lessons.

Wanna know how much of those I cried through?
Dang near straight through the whole freaking entire first lesson.

I still suck at ice skating and roller skating (and still refuse to participate. When I go roller skating, I run around in socks, which is enormously more fun).
I straight up quit tennis.
Volleyball is a no go.
Basketball is on a "will if I have-to" basis.

But, during the lesson versions of those things (except tennis. I did not make it through tennis. Or that second volleyball camp), I got over it after the first lesson, even if I didn't love it.

My initial response to new things is frustration to the crying degree. Flash flood temper.

Yesterday, a "MainReqd" light came on in my car.
Checked the oil.
Rechecked it because no one believed I could do it right.

And it was decided that I needed an oil change, not really because I believe I need one but because I want that awful light to go off and leave me be.

Took it in during my lunch break; it was busy and I was super confused.
I felt really stupid and asked stupid questions and tried to be calm.
Did my shopping while I waited.
and waited.
and waited.
and what was supposed to take 15-20 minutes was an hour in and they still hadn't looked at my car.

I then gave up.
Took my car back to work.
And cried about it to be pretty honest.

Why?
Because I cry when I'm frustrated.
Which is frustrating.
And makes me cry.
It's a pretty vicious cycle.

But I got back to the office, asked around for really anywhere alternative for oil changes, sent an inquiry email, which I followed up with a call, scheduled an appointment, and even printed off a coupon from their website.

Two steps backward in the maturity sphere, but you can't be good at something you haven't tried before (unless you are literally the worst person in the universe. seriously. keep that stuff to yourself. we will key your car. in love.).

Now I know.
I know what kind of oil my car uses.
I know where to take it and where not to take it.
I know to use the internet instead of calling my dad first and panic him.

Next time, I'll kick this oil change in the trunk.

Jamie and Jansie's Very Good Adventure (#momweek2014 p.4)

Belfast-Carrickfergus-Whitehead-Larne-Ballygalley-Glenarm-Carnlough-Ballycastle-Portaneevey Car Park-Giant's Causeway-Port Stuart

Our means: Rental car and prayer.

This world traveller loves and trusts her mother.
and is also a pain in the butt passenger.

However, we made it through day one alive, with only 13 curb hops and a side mirror scrape from our BnB entrance.

We took the coastal route, which means it took much longer, but gave us the most gorgeous views.

Also, it is worth knowing that the British are all about accuracy. For instance, rather than using an American phrase like, "The best in town," a Brit would say, "One of the good places to eat in town."

For that reason, it wasn't the best adventure we had, but it was a very good one.

First stop: Carrickfergus, where we roamed about the castle and looked out into the sea. Yes, that rainbow did go before us all day long. There was no pillar of fire by night. 

Glenarm is quite wee, but it is the site of a gorgeous little church, this cool old castle wall/bridge and possibly the most amusing pedestrian sign of all:

Breakfast was an Ulster Fry (meat, meat, meat, egg, potato bread, soda bread, tomato). It's standard. Oh, did I mention that's just the SMALL version? HA.

All this from the Carnlough "Harbour Lights Cafe," which was quaint, cheap, and right on the water.

Naturally, when we passed a Maud's in Ballycastle, it was our cue to pull over and indulge. Only the hope for another on the route stopped us from going back in. We're that embarrassingly addicted.

We overlooked the fabulous Carrick-a-rede rope bridge from the Portaneevey Car park. Actually, the road bends and falls just past that car park and drops your view onto the bridge and wild waters.

Neither of could breathe at the view. Had to turn around.

Giant's Causeway was nearly unrecognisable to me due to flooding. The wind had something to prove, apparently, but we stood our wee ground and took in the salted gusts and unnatural natural rocks.

However, as Jansie would put it, the hapometer (happy meter...it's my level of grumpiness depending on hunger. Similar to hangry, but it goes up when I eat...) was getting low.

It took us an unreasonable amount of time to find a place to stay and some grub, but totally worth it.

Thank you to the two local ladies who recommended both.

The Wine Bar is a local treasure, located at the end of the town. Literally. "Ya hit the harbour, see the three story, and go up). Easy enough!

The food was inexpensive and delicious (I got this coconut curry monk fish dish that was just so good), and the desserts. Ohmygosh, the desserts.

I had honeycomb chocolate brownie cheesecake. Yes, that's all one thing. Jansie had saltwater caramel chocolate torte. (can you see me drooling just rewriting this?)

Our bed for the night was at "An Amazing Bed n' Breakfast, though the fancy insignia above the door may disagree by a letter or so...:)

It was indeed a amazing house. ;)

Full and exhausted, we called it an early night. Or, rather, I did. That woman is like the energiser bunny, I swear...

In Praise of Pubs

Only in Belfast can you walk on the sidewalk and still nearly be run down by a cabby gunning it down the square.

Unlike The States, it is not the burden of drivers to steer clear of pedestrians. Rather, it is up to us to avoid being hit.

On this particular instance, Adam and I were walking (and at one point being attacked by a water-spewing wall) to the Cathedral District to join in a music session where, by the way, we discovered all the cool kids hang out (in the Cathedral District, not the music sesh).

The pub area up in there is a hustlin' and bustlin' sprawl of cobblestoned alleys with strung lights and hanging plants and neon signs and bouncers. Very exciting indeed.

Our goal destination was The Dirty Onion which, despite its nasty name, is actually a pretty cool place.

It's formatted similarly to The Tabernacle (in a non-blasphemous way), with an outer court, inner sanctum, and Holy of Holies.

In the outer rim, there were benches, an outside bar, inverted arches of hanging bulbs, and conicle fires to warm the wee drunk peasantry.

Inside was absurdly packed. People everywhere, standing, sitting. I've no idea how the bartender could hear an order. However, if you're looking for a place to hang with an obnoxiously voiced friend, that's the place to head.

A and I pressed on to the very back corner. A fireplace to the left--open, with hot red coals sparking--Gaelic printing above it.

Splattery painted artwork behind thin plexiglass took up the center of the wall.

To the right was our nook of musicians. 5 + Adam.

Beside me and moving clockwise:
-Clean cut flutist (Fluter? Floutist? It wasn't a flute. It just looked like a flute) who could play anything handed to him with finesse but preferred his flute-ish.
-Acoustic guitarist
-What I'd imagine an Irish Texan looking like: Big, mustached, long grey ponytailed. Played the Irish equivalent of a clarinet.
-On the bench were Master and Prodigy, both Kitchen Pipe players (travel-sized bag pipes). Master had Jesus hair, a Celtic cross shirt, and an elbow band protecting against the constant rub of the pipebag, quiet and watchful. Prodigy was my age-ish and had the look and abilities of a guy who was born with bagpipes already in his hands and heart. His eyes closed all the while he played, which made his so-fast-they-blurred fingers all the more impressive.

If anyone has ever doubted the pleasantness of the pipes, the logic follows that they have never experienced an artist such as him.

Finally, Adam, with his baby Taylor. For the first time since I've known him (summer 2009), Adam was playless, out-musician-ed and totally in awe, or so seemed to be.

And as we sat there, with candles and coal glowing up amber ale and empty glasses with their rings of froth, the air full with the muchness of drink and laughter and music and warmth, I sensed something deeply spiritual about it all.

Maybe it was the way these men would periodically roll their own cigarettes (real Irish roll their own ciggies)--tobacco in paper sheathes, massage back and forth, lick edge, and smooth--and head out for a big, leaving their instruments safely behind or the way they would listen to one another's new melodies of old songs and join in with their own additions, calling the key to the quiet or confused players or how they seemed genuinely impressed by the beauty of each other's abilities, passing along their instruments to one another to check out.

The very unassuming, unaudacious, unconscious nature of it all that was most beautiful to me.

Is that not how we should be or, rather, are when we are wholly pursuing or participating in something we're passionate about? Waiting for someone to pick up the fife on the table and join in, happy to have another tune and not jealous of the extra/different melody or better skills.

Should we not worship in that simultaneously casual and reverent manner? Should we not be ready and willing to just stop and listen, enjoy, full of awe?

Those guys are probably not Christian and they may not even be happy, but they've got a handle on something that could revolutionize our souls.

A Bit of Belfast

Life in this city is a slight differing from my sweet hometown (and adopted hometown) of Tulsa and Siloam Springs. Here is a little list of my favorite eccentricities:

-Food comes from real animals. If you pass a sheep on the side of the road (which, in itself is weird) you may very well have that sheep for supper if you order it later.

-Pants do not mean pants. Pants mean skivvies. Trousers are pants. So when you tell someone their pants are cute, they flip thinking they're showing off their unders.

-Jumpers are sweaters and not little denim dresses your mom made you wear over your turtlenecks as a child.

-Cars don't mind a bit about pedestrians! Meaning, they will run you over in a blink. Because of this, I like to play a game called, "Who'd get hit first" when it comes to crossing the street. If there is someone coming from the opposite side whose crossing would be more dangerous, then I feel free to pass. That or following someone in front of me. Ladies with strollers are a favorite. I'm not evil. I swear.

-Bikes aren't allowed on the sidewalk.

-A little green coated man comes about the neighborhood each night to delitter it. Belfast is one of the cleanest cities I've ever been in. They take littering seriously.

-Outgoing mail goes in community mailboxes and not in individual mailboxes. That way, the postman only comes to your door if he has mail for you.

-People don't respond to "thank you" with "you're welcome." Instead, they give you an awkward "Ok." Shelby and I have been noticing this since the start, but we've realized that when they actually do use the word "welcome," they mean it in the sense that they're happy you've come along. "You're very welcome here."

-The post office asked if I wanted Christmas stamps. DUH. No trees, no sparkly lights, no santa or snow men. The Virgin Mary. Naturally.

-Everyone says "Hiya!" in greeting. It's all I can do to resist quoting Heavyweights. 

-"Wee." A wee receipt, a wee second, a wee jumper, a wee nap, a wee sumo wrestler.

-Guy Fawkes day is actually celebrated. The Irish love a good political insurrection. I was out last night and folks in GF masks were drum circling it up at the gates of City Hall.

-Boxing Day is also a recognized holiday. I've already begun a list of ways that I can purposely misunderstand it when the time comes.

-The bus system. The bus really comes when it darn well pleases. A minute before the anticipated time, five minutes after the anticipated time, so early or so late that two buses come simultaneously. No matter at all! And sometimes, it just doesn't come at all. I do not take the bus for granted. When I see it turn onto the street or come up the hill, a Princess Diaries movie scene comes into mind. It's raining, she's in a top-down convertible, and her car has died, leaving her stranded. Then, out of the darkness, two headlights *cue victorious music*. Her bodyguard has found her and whisks her away to the ball. Those are my feelings toward the bus driver every time.

There are so many more, but that's a good wee start to whet your fancy.

[Unrelated happening worth note: I'm writing again! I'm writing content for a company. Submitted 3 articles Monday and have a few more to write today. Hooray and hallelujah!]