Thursday, June 24, 2010

Ramblings of my former self

I went to save a document I started writing tonight and as I selected the save spot, I saw a number of folders and documents long forgotten. Books I had started to write ranging from short stories and poems, to kids books and novels. I found poems and prayers that showed God's faithfulness and encouraged me year's later. I also found old journal entries full of ramblings of a girl in her early twenties trying to figure out "life."

Wow. I'm glad I found these. It's really funny to see how strongly I felt or craved something. How anguished I was over a lost relationship that I laugh to think about now. Early entries wondering if my now husband was, "THE ONE" (he was/is, don't worry).

I used to keep a journal religiously in high school and college. I know exactly where they are right now too. They are in the guest room on the highest shelf above my wedding dress. (If anyone is curious, they have a secret alarm that will instantly trap you in a cage so consider yourself warned.) Part of me wants to read them like a novel and feel emotions of the 13 year-old Meghan up to just after living in Wales as a 25 year-old. What a life story! Oh the trials of a 16 year-old Meg frustrated by her first boyfriend. (the shame!) If I get the courage I may post one if only to make everyone laugh at me.

Sure I missed gaps here and there but it's pretty well documented. I remember journaling just before going to college my freshman year and trying to journal with my left arm since my right was broken. That's how dedicated I was to journaling. I've lost part of that. I need to go back. If only to laugh at my thoughts and assumptions about life, love and the pursuit of happiness (or boys, you pick).

Monday, June 21, 2010

Oh Jet Lag, We Meet Again (Or why you should go to Kauai)

I've become a pro at jet-lag. NOT getting it that is. Well, okay, I get it but not for long. Going to China 4 times in one year with a side of London, England will do that to a girl. However, I just returned from my vacation in Kauai and I have to say that this time, it is kicking my butt. I know I won't get pity, I just came from Kauai after all, but I'm trying to decipher where I went wrong. Here I am, at home, working (well, just finished) and it's 9:15pm. Why didn't I feel this awake when I was at work today?

Kauai was amazing. Matt and I went there for our honeymoon and when we got a lucky break at work we were able to go again. We read, relaxed, ate ice cream for dinner, went snorkeling, and ate way more food than we should have.  The temperature was great! I'm not normally into heat and stuff but the breeze made it perfect.

One of my favorite moments was, sadly, the second to last day. Towards the end of the day we went to Polihale State Park. It is at the end of the road all of the way to the west. There was an ominous sign saying that only 4-Wheel Drive vehicles were allowed (we had a rental car, does that count?). We'd received many warnings about how bumpy it was, not to get stuck, make it out there if its the last thing you do, blah, blah blah. So we did. Make it out there that is. We didn't get stuck. It was bumpy. Actually, that is an understatement. It was like driving on an oversized Cheeto. No joke. The dirt is reddish-orange, there were pot holes everywhere, and we were constantly dodging giant holes. Just imagine if a Cheeto was huge enough to drive on. That'd be a problem!

Poor Matt was driving and doing a far better job than I would do but I still felt the need to freak out (Sorry Matty). After 45 minutes on this giant Cheeto road we found the most amazing beach ever. It was the kind of beach that made you forget the ordeal it took to get there. It was quiet, with a gorgeous view. One end tapered off to where the island curved and the other end stopped abruptly at the beginning of the Napali coast where cliffs are ridiculously high and there isn't a way to get around it unless you go by boat.

We stepped up to the water and the temperature was perfect. It was bath water warm but NOT from the usual suspects. This is the ocean you know, not your neighbor's pool. The waves were gentle and the white sea foam created intricate patterns in the sand. The sun began to set and there wasn't a bird in the sky. It was a postcard picture of a beach in Hawaii.

It was the postcard picture that gave me this undeniable jet-lag. It was also worth it. How could it not be?

Thursday, June 10, 2010

First thing I ever made...in an oven

There is this great blog called Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef. The "girl" is Gluten-Free like me! Well, on Twitter today, she challenged her followers to blog about the first thing they ever cooked as a kid. I said, "Biscuit Pizza's" but now that I truly think about it, it was something else entirely. I was five or six and alone with a baby-sitter. The Biscuit Pizza story was so interesting in my head as I wrote it. Now, I have to start over.

My brother, Andrew, was a baby. So, my parents, desperate for a night out, left us with our baby-sitter who shall remain nameless (fairly certain we are facebook friends). I decided that I was going to make a cake as a welcome home gift for my parents. Who knows where the sitter was. I got to work! I broke out my mom's "Better Homes & Gardens" red and white gingham cookbook (she still has it by the way) and chose what I thought would be the yummiest treat: Lemon Pudding Cake. I set my first grade self to work reading the ingredients, pretending how to measure, and making a masterpiece. I remember the baby-sitter coming in at some point. I think we baked it. The only thing I can remember is the taste. Oh my word was it bad. It tasted like pure salt! It was the grossest concoction known to man. I also remember the mess. It looked like a bomb exploded in the kitchen...just in time for mom and dad to waltz through the door.

Out of curiosity, I just went and pulled my own BH&G off of the counter. No Lemon Pudding Cake to be found. Maybe my version wasn't so bad after all. Maybe that cake was a bomb.

A little over here... a little over there...

As I created my first and only Twitter account (only because it kinda creeps me out and I'm not sure I'll keep it) I got sucked into immediately personalizing it. I spent my lunch break yesterday picking out a background pattern, couldn't find one, and then proceeded to do the same thing today.

As I looked at the patterns and colors I thought, "Is this what shows ME?" Who cares! It's Twitter. Here's the thing that struck me though: We are putting our "selves" out there on Facebook, on Twitter, on art pages, on blogs, on just about anything really. We then try to personalize it so we stick out from the masses. People put decals on their cars, skins on their laptops, photos on their blogs, all to show who we are or what we do. It's a little crazy. We have shared our "selves" with who knows how many people all in an attempt to say, "Hey! Hey! Look at me!" or whatever your purpose is (I admit I get a bit of the "Hey!" syndrome from time to time. I have a blog after all.) How much is too much though? Can it be too much? Where does the real you reside? Is it on Facebook or Twitter? I can't answer that for you but for me, I'm really starting to give it some thought. I'm also thinking about how much is too much and who sees what and where.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Banana Pancakes on the Brain

As life changes and evolves, so has my take on situations, things, people, and life in general. (I think that covers all of the bases.) When I named the blog, it's only purpose was to be cute. But, in life, sometimes you get great things (pistachio ice cream), some times you get bad things (mashed parnips, remember, I only like mine roasted). All in all though, it always seems to end up okay and for the best. That has been shown to me more and more lately.

I'm leaving for Hawaii on Saturday. Something I can't wait to do. MattyG and I are going to Kauai where we had our honeymoon. Life's gotten slightly simpler since we got married and so I'm excited to really get away and relax for probably the first time since we got married. Loving the idea. We're going to go mountain tubing, snorkeling, lay on the beach, read, eat Banana Pancakes (well, Matt will. I've yet to decide how to handle that impending gluten-fest), and Hawaiian shave ice. I can't wait.

Now, Fort Wayne is NOT a bustling city that you need to escape from but escaping wherever you are is good once and awhile. And before you get any crazy ideas, we are having housesitters so no keggers. :)

Now, off to work and listen to Jack Johnson while I envision eating fresh pineapple on a beach.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Room with a window seat

When I was a little girl, I always wanted a room that had one of those half-circle turret thingys. It would have a window seat that lifted up to show rows upon rows of hidden books. The seat would have a soft cusion (that is always pink in my mind for whatever reason) and perfect with a round window at just the right height so I could peek out and look at the people and trees as I read.

I never got that window seat. Or any window seat for that matter. But I still want one. There was a book I read as a kid called, "Betsy, Tacy, and Tibs." Tibs or Betsy (I can't remember now, it might have been Betsy) had a window seat and she would read for hours on that seat. She also wrote little stories that she kept in a tin under the seat and hoped to get published someday. I wanted to be like her. I wanted to write stories. There were a whole series of books on Betsy, Tacy, and Tibs. Their names always confused me though. Who would name their daughter Tacy? Tibs was short for something but surely there was a cuter nickname!

Monsters Under the Bed

When my brother, Andrew, was about 5 or 6, he was afraid to go to bed one night. He was afraid of being alone. When my dad asked him why, he said it was because of the monsters under his bed. To which my dad replied, "Andrew, there are no monsters under your bed." This greatly confused my brother. He said something that I thought about today. He said, "Well. Adults need to tell kids this then because if no one tells us, how are we supposed to know? Kids are scared of monsters under their beds and they wouldn't be if adults told them."
So true. How are we supposed to know if people don't tell us? I always expect to know the RIGHT answers...which I don't (don't tell anyone). How am I supposed to know if someone doesn't tell me? It's so funny. What level of it though is arrogance and what level is finding out for yourself? If Andrew had crawled under his bed and looked, he would've known there wasn't a monster under his bed. No Mike Wasowski to scare him and bring up his quota of screams. Just sayin'. If people don't tell you, and you don't try to find the answer, how are you supposed to know?