Roses remind me of you

Roses are considered romantic in a lot of situations. I think they're really quite amazing. Sure, they're beautiful and they smell lovely, and everybody wants some because they're super special. But there's so much more to a rose than that. That's why they remind me of you.

You see, I'm pretty much the opposite of a gardener. If there were an award for "most plants killed" I just might win it. I overwater, or underwater, or forget to take them in.

However, for the second time in my life I have found myself with a rather beautiful set of rose plants in my care. For some reason, roses don't *actually* take much maintenance. Pull the weeds sometimes, cut off the flowers so they'll grow more, and that's about it.

I'm sure some master gardener out there will disagree with me. But the fact is: I have yet to kill a rose plant. And that's really saying something!

Roses are sturdy. Yes, they're beautiful. They're a pleasure to look at - like you. But there's more to them. Rose tea is actually quite tasty and (I hear) good for the digestion. Roses can survive any kind of weather - from the scorching heat of two summers ago to the freezing ice storm last year brought us, with little sunlight or with lots of it. And even when they're a little messed up, when they're discolored or a little ripped or chewed, they always draw the eye. People want to hang out, if even for just a minute, around roses. Just, I might add, like you.

You may not realize it right now, but you are very much like the beautiful roses that have flourished in my care. You've gone through a period of neglect, where people may have stopped to admire your beauty but nobody really took care of you - something these roses have gone through for many years before I moved in. You may be going through some painful things right now, a process where parts of your life are being cut away - pruned, if you will. And I know that sometimes it can feel like life is beating you down like that ice storm beat these poor roses last winter. But the roses survived the neglect, and the pruning and the storm both did very good things for these roses and it will for you too.

The pruning took the old growth away so that new growth could come in. The old growth was beautiful! It was a gorgeous set of a few almost perfect-looking roses. But if I hadn't cut those flowers off, if I hadn't taken those beautiful petals off of the plant, they would have been the only roses that plant could produce all year. Instead, I pruned away the growth again and again until a plant that only had three roses had one final yield for the year of almost twenty!

You're in a time right now where some things are being pruned away. It hurts, because the things you're losing are things you were very attached to, beautiful and wonderful things you don't want to let go of. But God, the Master Gardener of our hearts, knows what he's doing better than I even know what to do with these roses. This time of pruning will eventually be something you'll be able to look back on as a reason you're flourishing so well.

The ice storm made these roses stronger. They wove themselves together, each branch of the plant leaning toward the other where they used to be growing apart and away from each other. Now, many of the parts of this plant are intertwined. Storms do that to people, too. The storms of life make us lean in toward each other and toward God, wrapping ourselves around the people who love and support us because we come to a realization that we can't do it on our own anymore.

Yes, you are very much like these roses: Beautiful, strong, but with so much more growing to do and so much more potential to realize. I'm looking forward to watching it happen.

The pondering inspired by a made-up bed.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words...

I probably haven't made my bed more than ten times - if that many - in the five years since I left my mother's house. I would say that averages about twice per year, but that's a lie. In the two and a half years I've been living with my husband, I think I've made the bed twice. Just twice. The other three times happened in the nine months I was with a control freak. The guy before that didn't care any more than I did.

In fact, I can't remember more than a dozen times in the 16 years I *WAS* living with my mom that I actually made my bed. From what I remember, it was about (but a little bit less than) once a year. The bed got made twice a year. Once, maybe, when my mom bribed or threatened me to do it ("If you don't make that bed, we'll leave you home when we go to dinner tonight!"). A second time when she opened my door to give me laundry.

"Laurana! When was the last time you cleaned this room? I can't even *see* the floor! That's it, I'm tired of it, you have thirty minutes, and then I'm coming in here with a garbage bag!"

Which was usually followed by about 30 seconds of cleaning and then 29 minutes of playing with whatever toy I'd found when I picked the first shirt up off the floor. Or, if I couldn't find a toy, several five-minute spurts of kind of cleaning broken up by five minute spurts of "I have to pee...I need a drink....I'm hungry..." I think you moms know this story.

Which meant mom came in with the garbage bag, and the bed got made that night.

But I didn't make it.

Nope, I think in the sixteen years of living with my mom, it's a very real possibility that I made my own bed less than once a year.

Who made the bed all those other times?

Well, with the exception of the times I bribed, tricked, or otherwise coerced one of my siblings to do it (that's what they're there for, right?) - probably mom. I'm sure she'll be sainted one day for raising me. I was certainly a pill.

That fact makes this show pretty impressive. Not only did I make my bed today, but I *cleaned the room*...without prompting. Well, almost. There were a few verbal nudges from my husband. He's also going to be sainted, just for having to live here. (haha)


But is that what people see when they look at this? Just looking at the picture, and trying to be detached about it, I think it kindof looks like nobody lives here. The bed's made up, but the walls are bare. There's no real signs of life - much less married life - in this room

Not that I'm encouraging you to post evidence of your married life as pertaining to the bedroom. Keep it where it belongs.

But I look at these pictures, which I took so I could share with you the story about how I never make my bed, and I wonder what other people will think when they look at them. People, maybe, who don't know me.

Which makes me wonder, what would people think if someone just took snapshots of my life on the days when my room isn't clean, and my bed isn't made? What would people think of my life if snapshots of the day to day were posted on the internet?

I'm on a mission to make sure whatever it is they think of me when they see those snapshots of my life is positive. I'm on a mission to make "No regrets" my testimony. To make sure that when my kids find my profile on an old site, that I'm not going to turn red explaining something to them, or having to say "oh, I was a kid, and I was dumb..."

I don't have kids yet, but - and forgive me if this sounds bad - the older my parents get, the more I realize that I need to plan now for when I do have kids. I need to start developing the habits that I want them to have, and getting rid of the ones that I don't want them to have. And that includes a lot of thinking, even about what I post on the internet.

You never know, when you post something, what other people are going to think about it. But you can sometimes guess.

If you post pictures of you with alcohol, people are going to think you're a drunk. If you post pictures of you scantily clad, they'll think you're a slut. If you post pictures of you helping a charity, they'll either think you're a nice gal - or that you're showing off.

You can't please everyone, and I'm not saying that you can or that you should try. But what will your kids think when they see that picture? Will they be embarrassed to be your kid, embarrassed to see what you just posted, ashamed and disappointed by your choices? Or will they be proud of you?

And probably more important: When your kids copy the way you live, will you be proud to say "I taught them that!" Or will you be ashamed of them?

I Pledge Allegiance

Today is voting day, and it has me thinking about patriotism. Why? Because I'm not voting.

Yeah, I know, 'NOT voting?'

So let me start with that. I'm not voting because I don't have all the information. I can't begin to understand the full ramifications of what Obama has already done in his time in office. I have my reasons for disliking both candidates, and I don't have enough information to feel that I can properly choose. And so, I would rather my vote be withheld then potentially contribute to standing in the way of what God may want to happen.

That's why I'm not voting. And I'm proud to live in a country where - even though people fought hard to secure my right to vote - I have a right to make the decision not to do so. No one is forcing me to do anything. I don't have to worry that as soon as I post this, some military group is going to be sent to my home to break down the door and force me to my local polling place. We live in an increasingly regulated America, but for now it's still free. And I'm proud of that.

Moving right along.

Some people have asked why I say the pledge the way I do. I say it proudly, back straight, voice firm. I believe in what I'm saying. Some people wonder about that. I'm not in the military or any political groups, I don't only buy American made products, so how can I say that I believe in what I'm saying when I say the pledge? Furthermore, how can a Christian confidently pledge allegiance to a country that is quickly moving away from its Christian moral base?

I'd like to say the answer is simple, but it's not.

I don't know about wars. I have no concept, no real comprehension, of what goes on in a war. Sure, I've read news articles and history books. But that's like reading about a million dollars - if you've never seen and experienced it yourself, you just don't fully understand what it is, and what it means. I don't know about congress or the senate or the judicial system - if I'm completely truthful, I'm like a lot of Americans in that I know practically nothing about America. I'm not proud of that, but I just don't know where to start, and I don't feel I have the time to dive in to learning yet. It is on my list though.

Not knowing as much as I do, I still know something with absolute certainty: This country was founded by Christians, with divine help. That's all I need to know right now. I say the pledge with respect and conviction because I am fully devoted to a country that *is* one nation, under God indivisible.

You see, there's a key there that people don't get because of the way those words were spaced out when we learned them. That's why people think it's OK to take God out of the pledge. They don't understand that this was written by a Christian, by a powerful person of God who knew that only under God's power could the United States truly stay indivisible, and only under God's guidance could they truly provide liberty and justice for all.

I pledge my allegiance to that country. To a country that stands firm on biblical principles, that asks God for help, to a country that prays. And though I may not be in the military, I fully believe that if I were called on, if I were needed, to stand in defense of a country under God, I would do so. Not because we are currently under God. But because I believe that God's promise to Abraham ("For the sake of ten righteous men I will not destroy this city") was a promise to all of us. Our country may not be a country under God right now, but there are more than ten righteous people in it, and that means there's hope. So if I were called on to defend our country, to defend our rights and freedoms as laid out in the constitution, to defend the ability of the righteous men I know to live in a country where the most persecution they will face is a nasty message on Facebook - then I will do so. That's why I say the pledge so resolutely.

I think, unlike many, that our country still has hope. I joked with everyone else at the last election: "If so and so wins, I'm moving to Canada."  But the truth of the matter is that I wouldn't. I really do love this country, even if we're a little screwed up right now. It's like loving your crazy grandma. I believe that we need some strong people to take charge in our government - and I do know enough to know that one president isn't going to be able to change anything. It's going to take time to repair what we've broken in the decades since the last world war. But I believe that we can, and I believe that I'm doing my part.

"But," you may say, "you're not a politician, or a lobbyist, or even an activist. YOU don't even vote! What are you doing?"

The only hope for our country is that generations X and Y get their heads on straight so we can teach generation Z and the generations thereafter how to fix what's been broken. Someone in my generation will almost definitely be elected to senate one day, quite a few of them in fact. And it's up to our generation and that of our parents to teach the people who will be in power how to do so. We can do that by teaching them to be faithful, honest, kind, and God-fearing.

So what am I doing? I'm involved with a group called Worldwide Dream Builders. They are the most patriotic people I have ever come into contact with. They are also the most Godly. They are teaching me, now, while I'm still five to ten years from having children, how to raise a family. They are teaching me how to be a better Christian, a better citizen, and a better patriot. They are teaching me how to secure my family's financial future so that I can spend time teaching my children the things they will need in order to positively influence their world. They are teaching me to be strong, and faithful, and honest, and kind, and God-fearing, and so much more - so that I can pass these things on to my children and grandchildren.

I say the pledge because I believe, through the influence of groups like Worldwide, that the generations my generation will raise are going to be able to fix this country and bring it back to where it's supposed to be - One nation, under God indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

You Are Made for More

 I just now finished Lisa Osteen Comes' book (not to be confused with Jim Cymbala's book, which I am now interested to read...maybe next month.)


I've been working on what I call "the Lisa Osteen book" for about three or four weeks now, though it hardly seems that long. It seems like this one was written just for me. Every chapter deals with a piece of my heart, a part of my life, that I needed help with. Whether it's fear, insecurity, jealousy, unforgiveness, or even just a crippling sense of "why me?" There's a lot of things that I've struggled with in my life, especially recently as I become more self-aware, and Lisa's book seems to address them all.

For those who don't know Lisa's story, definitely pick up this book. Her testimony is absolutely amazing and I think that even just knowing what she got through on faith will positively impact your life. As a brief summation:

At a young age she opened a mail bomb intended for her father. Although scarred, Lisa was mostly protected from the bomb in a way that even investigators and doctors consider to be miraculous. They still haven't found the person who sent that bomb, and for a long time she had to struggle against the fear that they'd try again. But she overcame.

Shortly after getting married to the man of her dreams he turned into someone she didn't know anymore, and then sent her back home to her parents and filed for divorce. She didn't want it, she fought against it, but it happened anyway. She had to overcome insecurities, had to learn to accept that sometimes things don't go as planned, and she had to learn to forgive herself and her ex husband for whatever it was that went wrong. God used her pain to help push her into a ministry position where she could help others who were going through divorce.

When she did find a new mate (several years of healing later) they discovered that she could not bear children and her heart was broken. But she and her husband placed her faith in God and nine months after the day they found out that Lisa was barren, she and her husband brought home an adorable set of twin girls. They were able to adopt the girls and help the teen mother who bore them because of the things they'd already been though, because they trusted God when all of their dreams seemed to be crumbling around them. They have since also adopted a little boy, and their family is as close-knit and loving as any blood-related family could hope to be.

With all that she's overcome, all that she's gone through, Lisa has learned to trust God to help her overcome - and her book is one of the tools she is able to make available to others who need to learn the same. It's truly amazing, and I know that my brief summary here doesn't begin to do it justice. This is a book I will return to again and again, knowing that I'll find something new and perfect for that time.

A few of the things that I've highlighted in this book:

• "God will not just pick you up one day and put you into your destiny. You have to take steps toward it and know that God will direct those steps."
• "You must do something, otherwise you will do nothing. Why should you sit in defeat with everyone else when God has a destiny for you to fulfill?"
• "Healing begins when self-pity ends"
• "A dream from God requires faith because dreams don't come to pass overnight...But whether we realize it or not, God is at work right now, today, in our lives. He's making things happen that we don't even realize - yet. See, *yet* is the key, because if there's one thing we can count on, it's that when God begins something, he will complete it. That's his promise. In fact, the bible tells us, God wants not only to complete things for us, but bring our lives to a flourishing finish. ... That means that no matter what's happening in your life right now, no matter what you've lost or what dream has died, it's not over."
• "Fear pulls us down, traps us, paralyzes us, sinks us into inaction. We can get stuck in fear. ... [T]hat in-between place, that stuck place, is nowhere worth living. ... We're made for so much more than sitting around in fear. We're made to live boldly."

Already Dead (Five lessons before 10AM)

Today, as you may notice, is the first day of the month. It is also a Monday (the first day of the week, as far as I'm concerned). What you may not know is that it is also the first day of a new journal for me. I burned through the last one REALLY fast, and I'm kind of excited about that.

New journals are always an exciting idea for me. I look at each journal as a separate book in the story of my life. In reality they're more like chapters or subchapters, but each journal signifies to me that there's a brand new chance to start all over again and do it differently, to do it better.

I LOVE having a new journal.

So today being the first of the month, a Monday, AND the beginning of a new journal struck me as a sign: Today was the perfect day to start a new habit.

Lesson number one: Laura, dear, stop taking everything so seriously. Some coincidences are just coincidences.

Lesson number two: No day is the perfect day to start a new habit and for that reason, every day is. Starting a new habit is hard, it takes a lot of going against what your subconscious has already been programmed to do, and that takes a lot of self discipline. And, let's face it Laura, you're not so great at self discipline just yet.

Nevertheless, I went to bed with this brilliant idea of starting a new habit in the morning, on the perfect day to start a new habit. There are many habits I want to develop but I decided to start with what I was pretty sure would be the easiest one: Exercise. I have, after all, only had my gym membership since June. It's about time I used it.

So this morning I dragged my sleepy butt out of bed at the absolutely ungodly hour of six AM and got myself into the gym - a bit later than I had hoped. It turns out when you drag your sleepy self out of bed at six AM it takes about half an hour before you're capable of leaving the house. Then another fifteen minutes to the gym. So at 6:45 I was FINALLY on the elliptical.

I'm convinced that some day they'll have a magic pill for weight loss and historians will wonder why we ever put ourselves on these torture devices.

I took the half-hour opportunity while on the elliptical to read my bible. After all, what else is there to do for a half hour when the gym music sucks and the news is the only thing on TV? Yeah, I'm still working on the whole discipline and priorities thing, but I'm getting better.

As it turns out, the elliptical is actually the perfect place for me to read my bible! I hadn't realized that my previous better-than-nothing-but-still-not-awesome habit only took 8 minutes to complete. Not much room for any real bible time in 8 minutes.

As soon as my half hour was over I raced home, took the fastest (and coldest) shower I've taken in a long time, and hurried to get ready. I was running a little bit late. Actually, a lot late. Fortunately, I tend to be half an hour to an hour early for work most days, so late didn't really matter.

Lesson number three: Adding a half-hour habit to your day means that you have to sacrifice a half hour of something else. Probably sleep.

I finally got out the door *just* in time to make it to work on time and - reminding myself to be calm - popped in a motivational CD for the drive. After all, if I'm going to spend a half hour in the car, why not make the most of it? (see, I'm getting better.)

About halfway there, I realized something dreadful. I was driving our Spectra because Dearest needed the Prius today for his running around, and the Prius key was still in my purse, which was right next to me in the car. And I had *just* seen that 167 northbound (the road I'd have to take to get home) was stopped up because of a multi-car collision.

I was going to be very late.

Lesson number four: Accountability goes a long way. I'm usually quite early to work, so my bosses thought little of it when I called and explained what happened, apologized, and told them I'd be late.

Lesson number five: No matter how wrong your day goes, your response to it really is your choice. This has been a hard lesson for me, one I've failed at and had to repeat many times. Today, I could have been very frustrated. I had every right to be. I tried to do a good thing and it screwed with my entire morning, ultimately contributing to me being late to work. However, it is in these times that I've been taught to talk to myself. Self-talk can be an awesome tool. The odd part is what I was saying to myself:

It's all right, I'm already dead.

Before you start worrying, this is an affirmation that my husband actually uses for himself when his anxiety starts to spike and it's biblically based. Sort of. The place he gets this affirmation from is where it talks about not worrying so much about what other people think about us because we've died to our old selves. We're not tied to the world in the same way anymore, we're not the same people we used to be, those old selves are dead.

It's all right, I'm already dead.

The first time my husband told me about this affirmation it was a little weird for me. Many of you know that he had some serious health challenges last year and it was a really hard time for us - a time during which is most frequent statement was "I just want to be dead." So you can understand how I would be taken back a little by an affirmation stating that you ARE dead! But I tried it today. Stuck in traffic and very, very late for work, I made a choice. I loosened my deathgrip on the steering wheel, leaned back in my seat instead of forward , and said "You know what, it's all right. I'm already dead anyway."

To my amazement, it worked. The tension slowly left my body! So I tried it again, and again, feeling lighter and more at peace each time. By the time I was home to give my husband his car key I was relaxed and only regretted that I couldn't curl up in bed with him and take a nap. I finally got to work (not as late as I thought I would be after all, though still late) and was able to actually smile. Sure, I've had a hectic morning. But what does it matter anyway? What's the point of getting upset that it didn't go the way I wanted it to if I'm already dead?

I think sometimes, when we decide to do good things that we haven't been doing before, life (or the devil, depending on how much credit you want to give that jerk) will throw stuff in our way. It's like Newton's first law of physics: A body in motion tends to stay in motion and a body at rest tends to stay at rest.

Change is hard, it's hard on our minds and hard on our bodies and sometimes even hard on our spirits - even if the change will benefit us in the long run. Developing a new habit takes rearranging your schedule a little bit, probably sacrificing some sleep or some free time for at least a while until you get things figured out. It requires things like dragging yourself out of bed when your whole body is crying out for just a little more sleep. "Five more minutes!"

But the difficulty, how hard you have to work for that new habit, is part of the point. It it was easy, everyone would do it. Things that are good for you tend to be difficult to pull off, to follow through on, to even start in the first place. It's getting through that difficult part, telling yourself whatever you have to tell yourself to get up and get dressed and get out there, or keeping yourself calm when the new habit throws your day a little bit - it's responding to that difficult part the right way that makes the difference. That's what makes the victory worthwhile.

So here I am, ten in the morning (well, ten thirty by now), five life lessons richer, violating every story-writing rule my grammar teachers taught me, and feeling pretty good about myself. Because today my morning was hard, but I got through it, and I did the right thing anyway. And one of these days, when I'm down to my ideal size and full of lean muscle, I'll be able to look back and say "It was a Monday, and the first of the month, and the first day of a new journal, and because I decided to do the right thing that day, that's what started it all."

Accountability and pumpkin lattes (my day)

This is the first image that came up under a google images search for 'accountability.' Interestingly appropriate, but not entirely accurate. You see, accountability isn't always about others. Sometimes, it's just about you.

Webster's defines accountability as the quality of being accountable, and accountable as capable of being accounted for or subject to giving an account. In these definitions, the word accountable can also be exchanged for answerable or explainable.

Put in layman's terms, accountability is the quality of being honest. Your yes is yes, your no is no, when you say you're going to be somewhere or do something, you can be *counted on.* In the past, the accountable people have been the ones society could rely on as "good at their word." If they said they'd do it, if they shook hands with you, there wasn't a way in hell you'd find it undone.

Personal accountability is the idea that you don't need someone else to hold you to your word. You don't need someone looking over your shoulder or checking your work to make sure you're doing what you said you'd do. You said you'd do it, and the person who's going to lose the most respect for you if you don't do it is you, and so you're darned well going to do it - not for anyone else, just for you. Personal accountability is what gets you up at six in the morning and into the gym even when you're the only one who will care whether that happens or not - and in that moment you don't actually care much.

In the past, I have had a problem with personal accountability.

Oh, sure, if someone else is depending on me to do something, to be somewhere, I'll darned right follow through. I hate being even the slightest bit late for something, or unable to attend something altogether, for whatever reason, that someone else was expecting me to be at. Especially if I was supposed to play some even minorly important role. No matter how sick I am, I tend to do my best to show up for the people who are counting on me.

However, when it's me counting on me it tends to turn into a whole different story. There's the complaining "Oh, I really don't feel well today. My tummy is a little bit queasy." Then there's the reasoning "Well, it's not like I'd really be letting anyone down if I don't go to the gym." Then there's the bargaining "Five more minutes, then we'll go."

By the way, yes, I do talk about myself in the plural form when talking to myself.

Then comes acceptance. "Okay, we're not going to go. That's cool, we'll go tomorrow." After that comes the plunge overboard "Well, I might as well have some of this cake. I didn't work out today so it's not like I'm cancelling anything out." And then, THEN comes guilt. Way too late. "Gosh, I'm such a horrible person. I ate that whole cake, and I slept in for six whole hours today. Do you know how much we could have gotten done in six hours? A LOT! And I didn't even go to the gym, so that cake is just going to sit on top of my already way too big fat rolls and ...." on and on and on until I pick a fight with my husband because I'm feeling so drattedly terrible over not making right decisions myself.

At least, this has been the pattern in the past. I've been getting better. I don't guilt trip forever. "Well, I feel bad now but it's done with. We'll do better tomorrow." After that I was able to get better about how far overboard I went; "You've already had one piece of cake sweetheart, you don't need two. It was a delicious piece of cake but two is just being greedy." Then I started taking care of going overboard at all! "Well, that cake does look good but don't you want to fit into a smaller dress for the Christmas parties? Have a protein bar, or some goldfish crackers instead. You didn't even go to the gym, so just let it be." And now I'm working on the acceptance. "Come on, there's still time. It's a 24-hour gym, you can go now if you want to. You know you want to. Come on, you'll feel better. Remember the Christmas dress? Please? Pretty please?"

Yes, I beg myself, and repremand myself, in third person. It's weird inside my head. Be grateful you don't live here. I have to be a little crazy just to cope.

Anyway, so I'm making progress. I'm doing better about realizing that I'm the most important person to be accountable to, I'm the person who deserves my accountability the most. After all, if I can't count on myself, who can honestly expect to be able to count on me?

Okay, so there's still a little bit of codependency there, but I AM getting better. That's the point. Mainly. I think.

I bet I know what you're thinking. You want to know what pumpkin spice lattes and accountability have in common, right? They don't seem to be related, do they? Well, they are.

Today, I've had two.



"Two lattes," you say, rightfully confused. "But Laura, weren't you just telling us that you were better at having control?"

Yes, yes I did. And it's true. I've had two lattes today for a very specific reason. You see, having a latte is usually a great way to meet people. Good people, who have goals and dreams and ambitions, tend to also want lattes. So today, in a determined attempt to find one of these people with goals and dreams and ambitions, I had two lattes.

It was a process. I started off in the morning, at the starbucks where I met one such person just yesterday. I ordered myself a venti. Technically it wasn't a latte. It technically was a mocha with pumpkin in it. I like them better that way. I looked around the busy starbucks and saw...

Well, a whole lot of not impressive. No smiles, no interesting books, no ways to start a conversation, everyone was tightly enclosed in their own little worlds.

No problem, I thought, not the least bit conquered. I'll get around this! I'll go let them know there are other worlds out here, exciting ones! And then they won't have to look so gloomy over their little world being the only one they can see!

So I stated the obvious. The weather can be a fantastic conversation starter sometimes, even when not everyone considers it fantastic weather. Dearest was just commenting the other day on how talking about the weather is a subconscious way of determining with the other person what the parameters of your conversation are going to be, and if you can recognize this, you can use it to make excellent conversation.

Well, today the morning crowd at the starbucks were not talkers. My conversation options ended quickly and I went outside to enjoy my coffee and my book alone.

Not entirely deterred, I was not about to give up! I went to my gym (regrettably not to work out, there was an accounting issue that needed fixing). From there I ran a few errands, looking the whole time for some good people with goals and dreams and ambitions who would want to have a conversation. I found a few, but they were already drunk and buying more beer at the local convenience store, so I decided against asking them to go to coffee with me for a longer chat.

A little disheartened, I went home. I made dinner, did some chores, and then headed out for a few more errands. These errands were with people I already knew, at their homes, so there wasn't much chance to make new friends.

But then, on my way home, my accountability kicked in. I had told myself that I was going to make a new friend today, someone with dreams and goals and ambitions. I hadn't done that yet, and there were still starbucks shops open. It was late, not many people are out and still sober at 8:40 on a Friday night, but some of them had to be out there somewhere, and I was willing to bet they'd be at the nearest Starbucks!

Except then I got lost. Sometimes, life throws you a curveball, or maybe God just has other things in mind. I got myself very lost. It started with taking the wrong part of the exit into Southcenter, and somehow I ended up on West Valley Highway. And then, the next thing that looked even remotely familiar was the "welcome to Kent" sign. Too bad it was on the wrong side of Kent and nothing else looked like anything I'd ever seen before.

Then I found it, the one street I actually know in that part of Kent, 212th! This happens to be the street my grocery store is on and I knew that if I just followed it in the right direction long enough, I'd find my way home!

But there, in the opposite direction from the right direction, was another starbucks. It was closed, except in the drive through, and I normally don't consider the drive through of any establishment to be a good place to meet ambitious, goal-minded, dreaming people. But for some reason I decided that tonight, maybe, I just might.

Well, I didn't. But God had other plans. When I was talking to the young man in the drive through he seemed distressed, like life just wasn't going his way today and he was doing his best to just get done with work so he could go home and go to sleep and maybe in the morning all the crap would have gone away. I asked him if there was anything I could pray for him about, and he told me no, but I think he meant that he just didn't want to tell me what it was. So tonight, with my second latte in hand, I drove home thinking about how interesting it is that God can use my desire for greater personal accountability to put me in the path of a boy who really needs someone to pray for him. I will pray for him tonight, even though I don't know what to pray for, because there's really no other reason I can think of for me to have so beautifully botched an attempt to get to a Starbucks and make a friend.

So that's the story of my day, and how my recent decision to be more accountable to myself led me on a  little adventure.

The moral of the story: Sometimes you don't accomplish what you set out to accomplish. But if you stay accountable to yourself and give it your very best shot, you'll usually end up accomplishing something pretty cool.

It's Been a While

Honestly, it hasn't felt like there's been much to say recently. But, I haven't blogged since July so here's what's been going on

July 22: My birthday 

This wasn't my cake, but I sorta wish it were. 

My birthday was pretty good, as far as birthdays go. On the actual day we went to a cool restaurant on our way home from a business conference in Portland. A few days later we went to the local Irish pub for some great food with a bunch of friends. I've had a total of (maybe) 4 sips of alcohol since then. Sips, not shots. It's mostly a curiosity thing for me: "Hey, what does that one taste like? Let me have a sip."

In any case, it was a mellow and very fun birthday. Next year, I plan to throw a party that's just a bit bigger, with more people and more laughter and maybe even a little more cake.




August:

Mostly full of meetings for both businesses, August was still pretty exciting. There are some pretty amazing products coming out this month that I got a chance to hear about in August and I am super excited.

This month:

Obviously this month isn't very far on yet, but it's already been awesome. I went to a family party a few days ago, spent yesterday bumming it around, and have had a pretty slow day at the office.

So that's it for the events, but this doesn't make a good post. Let's talk about a few other things. For example:

The Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappuccino. This beauty is amazing. I've had way too many of them in the past few months, because they're just so darned delicious!

Chocolate, coffee, milk, ice, more chocolate, chocolate chips, and chocolate whipped cream with chocolate cookie crumbs. YUM!!

This has quickly become my favorite drink. I find myself agonizing over what I'm going to have all the way through the line (really, you'd think with a Starbucks on every corner that the lines would be shorter...but I guess that's why there are so many of them here). Then, I get up to the front of the line and the only decision that I actually have to make is what size. Because when it all comes down to it, this 500-calorie cup of deliciousness is the perfect indulgence.

Now if only it didn't have calories.

This baby. Isn't it gorgeous? This is a brand new black Lamborghini.

No, it's not mine. I wish though. Lamborghinis are the only cars I get excited about. The reason is stupid: I love that the doors open up. Ever since I saw the Lamborghini in Back to the Future, I have adored these sexy vehicles. Plus, all cars look better in black.

I'm not usually a car buff but I think this one's my dream car.

I'm really looking forward to having tons of disposable income so I can buy funky awesome jewelry like this. I love frogs and these are just so adorkable. And these rings are awesome. Not sure when I'd wear them, but I *would* wear them as often as I could find an excuse for it.


So there's the randomness for today. Hope you all are having a great week, and I'll be back as soon as I finish the books I'm reading right now.