At Last Count

Just a side note...
At last count, my blogs, www.regentchelsea.blogspot.com and www.theblondephilosophy.blogspot.com, had over 600 visits.
:)
Who KNEW?

Jeff

I have to say, my little brother Jeff is one of the funniest people I know. We went out tonight for ice cream, a trip to Lowes, and a trip to Target to return something. How funny are these quips?

Scene:
I'm reading Domino magazine when Jeff walks in.

"Hey Chels, I'm going to run to Lowes because I need some wood screws." (Jeff)
"Um, ok, well I need to go to Target, sooo..." (me)
"Hey, that's like one trip!" (Aghast!)
"Yep. Lemme change and we'll go together."
"Wait, are you going to, um, 'look' at Target? Because if you're going to shop, I don't want this to take, like, all night. I have things to do, you know."
"No, no.... (assuredly) I don't need anything....
...I just want to return that closet thing that I bought that broke.... I'll just run in and return it and we'll go get your stuff from Lowes...." (I leave the room, continuing to assure Jeff that the items is ready to go, I have the receipt, and I'll just 'run in...', I don't need anything at all, etc, etc...)
"Ok."
8 seconds later...
"Ok, Chels... so, how long are you going to 'look' ?"
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The simple fact that we were going to Lowes to buy screws brought some challenges, and prevented Jeff from asking assistance from, well, pretty much any Lowes employee. I mean, how DO you word a question like that and not embarrass anyone...?
______________________________________

Scene:
Jeff and Chelsea are leaving the Cold Stone Creamery shop, disappointed that shop wouldn't take our Buy One Get One coupon, and not feeling prepared to drop $10.00 on two cones. A really cute, preppy, ponytailed blonde is going in while we are leaving. She holds the door for us, but Jeff had already started to hold the door for me. So the three of us are kind of suspended there, her gazing up at Jeff, seeing her children in his eyes, me rolling my eyes, and everyone present holding the door for each other, until we all have that moment when we laugh nervously and start apologizing and moving away from the situation. ("Sorry, haha, sorry, haha....."

Jeff, quietly and to himself: "That is so awkward."
Me, overhearing him: "Yeah! It's kind of like that awkwardness when you hug and say goodbye to someone, and then they continue walking the same way as you are. Like, your car and their car are parked right next to each other, or there's only one exit, and you realize it and it's awkward."
Jeff, "Yeah, kind of like that."
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We have a good laugh over this and walk over to Publix, where we bought Buy One Get One Edy's Ice Cream half-gallons. This event made us happy because we each got our own flavor, since one was free, which was pretty much what we were going to do at Cold Stone. Except Publix was out of Toll House cookie dough ice cream! Tragedy!
So we brought the vanilla and chocolate-brownie tubs home and mushed our own cookie dough in. (Only Jeff would keep a tub of mixed cookie dough in the fridge.)

Yum! My dough-to-ice-cream ratio was off, but Jeff's looked, well, perfect.
Jeff: "Chels, you should mush more often."
Me: "Um, no, Jeff, I don't think I need to mush more. Thanks, though."
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Earlier, I'm getting home from work. I stopped at Chik-Fil-A because I was starving. I worked through lunch, again, and only had toast today. (I've lost so much weight this week, anyways, my jeans don't fit, so I figured a chicken sandwich wouldn't kill me)

Me, eating my sandwich: "Jeff, I'm sorry.... I've been so used to living alone, I only brought one sandwich, and I didn't know you were going to be home, and so I didn't call to see if you wanted anything, I feel so inconsiderate, blah, blah...."
Jeff: "That's alright. I just came from Burger King, and didn't even think about asking if you wanted anything."
Me: "Sorry, man."
Jeff: "Yah, sorry too."

Nothing gained, nothing lost :)

The easy part.

The easy part is hearing that it's going to get better.
The hard part is getting those words from my between my ears to settle into that place where I can begin to believe it.

To Do: Write List

Anyone who knows me well knows that I love, love lists. I'm guilty of keeping small black books in my purses, backpacks, and general vicinity. I had a Palm Pilot for awhile, but somehow found that important stuff took too long to type with a ink-less stylus, and the stuff got lost, anyways. My lists are somewhat cryptic, anyways, running the gamut between "books to write about" to "business ideas" to "Do (or not do) by 2009..."

The battery died months ago, but lists in paper are forever :)

I resorted, for awhile, to keeping dry-erase markers in a toothbrush holder on my bathroom mirror, but then a friend left "Smile, you're on Candid Camera!" written above my sink, and getting out of the shower the next morning I saw it... and it made me feel funny inside.

But I digress. Today I laughed out loud, because I had left my little diary at home. In my haste, I scribbled some notes on a post-it from work, and put that on my wallet where I'd be sure to not forget anything. Know what it said?

-Stapler
-Ink
-Makeup
-Breakfast for attorneys

I could explain, but it really doesn't matter. Ok, maybe I couldn't explain. You'll just have to imagine.

Anyways, the whole event made me start to think about lists themselves, and why they are helpful. But then I started thinking that maybe they aren't so helpful. For example, they are helpful when you are planning. They are not so helpful when you are allowing your mind to run away with itself with the unknowns. For this particular post, I'm only going to refer to the former.

I've been thinking that perhaps I can use my love for lists to offer up to the Lord some things that are weighing on my mind. I have a few "regulars," you see. A few requests and things that are burdensome that come up during my quiet time. But more than this, I've been learning to still my heart enough to listen for Him to prompt me towards more things to add to the list. More, you say? Yes, much more.

I am not advocating for the Christian's prayer life to be reduced to a list. Prayer is far to personal for this. I am, however, saying that it can be a powerful tool towards focusing your mind and heart into the quietness of prayer. Perhaps, too, it wouldn't be so terrible to think through some of those particular areas of sin, in all their ugliness, and create smaller lists of each to ask specific forgiveness for. I find that this creates accountability in my life.

Thanks for letting share a little bit of my day. If you ever get a post-it stuck to the bottom of your shoe, and if it came from the general vicinity of a Starbucks, and it has some sort of cryptic writing on it that may or may not include abstract ideas mixed with "learn French" scribbled above "get mascara," you know where to find me. :)

Identity

I've had some quiet time this week for reading, and decided to pick up one of my favorite books: "Conformed to His Image," by Kenneth Boa. (Don't you just love that title?).

This book was originally a school assignment, but I soon found that I wanted to read through it much faster than the class allowed. Thus, last year I read through most of it, well before the class was finished. As is true with most of my favorite books, however, I read through them and then discover them anew at some other point in life.

Currently, I've stumbled upon a book-marked page that outlines dozens of promises in the Bible that a believer can cling to when establishing an identity in Jesus Christ. The page was hurriedly marked with a page torn from my moleskine journal, apparently a section so important that I was afraid its significance would be lost if I did not mark it right that moment. I find lots of my books marked this way.

I picked up the Sunday paper this evening and perused the "Ask Miss Manners" section; a reader wrote in and asked M.M. what the difference was between and "ego" and healthy self-esteem. I admit that I scanned her answer, because I soon saw the usual jargon and humanistic lingo.

I am so thankful that I've found true meaning and identity in Christ, and while I think we should always strive towards improving ourselves, knowing simply that His death and resurrection is enough to make me whole again is comfort in itself. It's sort of like that feeling you get when someone, or something, inspires you to stretch yourself that extra inch towards excellence; you do it not out of fear or out of inadequacy, but rather out of love and the desire to reflect, oddly, a small part of something beautiful that you saw in the other person or thing that has brought so much richness to your life.

I went to church today and I'm continually humbled by and reminded of how wonderful my church family is. I spent the afternoon running a couple of errands, including a trip to Lowes for some hardware I needed for a project. I met up with a friend later to help him finish his personal statement for a scholarship application; I'm finding that having the chance to write is deeply meaningful to me, and especially when I know others will read it. Two cups of coffee and a few hours later, laptop batteries draining, it was nearly finished. I don't know if I have any particular talent or gift, but thankfully my livelihood does not rely solely on my writing skills.

I went running tonight and now my legs hurt- groan.... I need to be more careful next time.

I am wondering, guarding, and, strangely, peaceful. My hands are full right now, and I pray that, even through my stubbornness, He will slowly and gently pry these things from my fingertips.

Lost In Pages Bound

I got somewhat lost the other day,
Though not from streets passed,
Strange cities or missing the bus
that left at half-past

Folded maps, directions asked,
Useless were they to me.
My absence not missed,
I continued my way (I admit, absently)

I cared not for North, East, South, West,
Avenues, speed limits, slippery when wet.
They couldn't help this mind tonight;
I was lost in thoughts, but sound in sight.

I knew then where to find
That place where I could spend some time
Looking not for answers, per se
But for a collection of thoughts at the end of the day.

Quiet, but bright and cluttered
With browers, thinkers, and the pages they muttered
Authors, titles, and worn wooden shelves
Small wheeled stools and coffee shop smells.

I sat on the floor, and tucked in my feet
Collected my thoughts, and started to read.
Psychology, philosophy, and wisdom to keep;
Business, art, and some not so deep.

Staring at the books... I'd amassed quite a pile!
Collected my thoughts, lingered awhile.
Then shelving the books, know what I found?
I found that I liked getting lost...
Lost in those pages bound.

:)