Seriously.

Friday was a bad day for not only me but also Charlotte and Beth. I can't pinpoint why, per se, but it was just one of those days that makes you particularly excited for the weekend. Charlotte and I came home from work to find Beth upstairs, just laying on her bed. We hopped on with her. The three of us laid there, stared at the ceiling, and started a chorus of:

Seriously.

Seriously.

Seriously.

(Apologies if you don't watch Grey's Anatomy and don't understand that reference.) Though we had an ambitious night of work ahead of us, we decided we needed to go out to dinner to 1) take the edge off and 2) celebrate our new house. After much indecisive driving about, we landed at Old Chicago, which ended up taking us most of the night. But that didn't deter me and Charlotte. At 9:00 Friday night we headed down to my apartment on Q Street and started to clean. We were throwing empty boxes over the balcony (apologies to the neighbors below, who looked baffled at the box storm at that hour) and packed the rest of my belongings before heading off for Round 2: Charlotte's bedroom.

It was past 10:30 by the time we arrived at Bristol Square. We loaded our arms with some cleaning supplies and headed up the stairwell when I noticed something flying around. Something big. I said as much to Charlotte and as she looked back at me to respond, she saw it. A bat! We both screamed and ran into the apartment, frantically slamming the door behind us. (Apologies to all the neighbors in her building.) We were stuck. All the paint supplies were still down in my car. We couldn't stay there all night. Here is the part of the story where I admit my wussiness, cowardness, and bad-friend-ness. I wouldn't budge. I couldn't go out there. So Charlotte, brave soul that she is, took my keys and made a run for it. The bat took a run for her. She claims he hit her head with his wing. He proceeded to chase her back down the stairwell, and luckily left the building when she opened the door.

Finally she made it back upstairs, I apologized for being a wuss, and we proceeded to paint her bedroom. And let me tell you, we did a craptastic job! (Apologies to Bristol Square apartments.) Starting at midnight, we did our best to remove the memory of the pretty teel from that wall by coating it with white. Finally, at 2:30 in the morning, we looked around and said, "It's not just good, it's good enough" (apologies to a former friend from college for stealing his line) and went home.

I have no smooth way to segue from that highly exciting story of adventure and intrigue to the quiet story of how blessed I was last night by music and friendship. This will be my third blog post in a year about our friend Andrew Peterson (see Sure of All I Hope For and Roommates and Reindeer), and though this was the seventh concert of his I've been to in seven years, I never grow tired of his shows. He performed last night with his friends Ben Shive and Andy Gullahorn out in west Omaha and it was once again one of those concerts that confirmed all that I believe in the deepest part of my gut. His honesty and genuine presentation always strike me, and last night was no different. There is just something about his songs and stories that penetrate my heart and remind me of the truth of the Story and the reality of God, His Kingdom, and the love that is woven through our days. He ended the concert with a hymn, and gradually stopped playing and left the stage to truly keep the focus on God. I didn't know the hymn, actually, but that was okay. I was just blessed to stand there and listen, to hear Tabitha on my left and Jonelle on my right, singing words they've known and believed for years, in praise to our God.

All that beauty and seriousness went out the window when we got home last night, though, as, in our collective delirium, Charlotte, Beth and I all went batty (no pun intended). Poor Matt(hew). He came over after the concert to fix our internet and was met with uncontrollable laughter that made no sense to us, let alone anyone outside of our insanity. At one point, Charlotte was laughing so hard she was crying, and at another point I blew milk out of my nose. What was so funny, you ask? I'm not sure. All I have to say is this: Nabity Pabity.

We are so crazy.

Seriously.

It feels like home to me...

I laugh when I look back at posts from earlier in 2007 that bemoan the lack of change in my life. First, there was the job. It's still going well, by the way. Elaine returned from maternity leave today. Kristin's coming back for a visit tomorrow over lunch, and Lindsey, our intern from last summer, has taken over my old job. We laugh at this chain of dependency we've created around here. Lindsey is somewhat dependent on me as she gets acquainted with the position, I still rely on Elaine's expertise quite a bit, and Elaine's been known to contact Kristin up in Minneapolis when she's stumped.

I talked to Leslie (Long) Anderson a week or so ago, for the first time in ages. With the move on the horizon, and with Nancy soon going off to college, I'd been feeling nostalgic for my freshman year at Mount Mercy, where happenstance placed me in a Regina room with my first-ever roommate, Leslie. So I decided to call her and catch up. She's pregnant again, in a new house with a bat on the loose. And I told her about my life and my move and my drama and she said to me, "You live such an exciting life." That really struck me. My first thought was, "then why am I not excited about it?", but I kept that to myself and just agreed with her. "Yeah, it's pretty crazy." She went on: "You just have so much freedom, and here I sit with a monkey on my shoulder." "Yes, but it's a cute monkey," I said, referring to almost-two-year-old Nolan, my baby friend with the biggest smile.

Something about our conversation has stuck with me. I think it's the "grass is always greener" syndrome. Here I am, often discontent with this transient time of my life. I get overwhelmed with all of the options in front of me, frustrated with the lack of permanence in my life. I'm usually far from "excited" about Life in General. And here my friend, who has the responsibility of a family and is settled into a lovely life like the one I too often long for, is the one to remind me of the freedom and opportunity that this chapter holds.

Since talking to Leslie, and finishing the book Twentysomething by Margaret Feinberg, I'm allowing God to slowly shift my perspective. He's been trying to for ages, but now I'm at a point of wanting the change, of wanting to be excited about where He has me now instead of longing for a vague day in the future at which my "real life" will commence. My real life is now. And I think I'm excited about it. This chapter is meant to be appreciated, not begrudged. It won't last forever, and although that's a good thing, I need to make the most of it while it does last.

This weekend I moved into a house with Beth and Charlotte. It's so great to live in a house again (this is the first time- not counting summers- since 2000). I've been blessed by all the help we've had getting settled in. A crapload of guys from church came to help move furniture on Sunday, Matt(hew) and Handy Randy (as I now call him) came Monday night in the midst of an almost-tornado to get more furniture together and electronics set up, and the other girls have been in and out, helping make beds, arrange the kitchen, and even mow the lawn. I have a cute little yellow room, cable TV (for the first time in years), and, most importantly, a great family of friends to share this chapter with. It feels like home to me.

the untitled story of my summer vacation

I have to say that this July had to be one of the busiest months in recent memory. Between mine and Ann's theater weekend extravaganza, the Luis Palau festival, the B5 camping trip, and the thousands of miles traveled in the final week, August (a busy month in and of itself with the big move and all) is going to seem tame.

I've been missing from the cyberworld because a) my home internet is acting up again, making it tricky to post on here and b) I've been on the road a lot lately. Two weeks ago, I was in Minneapolis with Charlotte and Beth. We ate in the rainforest, played with some legos, road a roller coaster, and made ourselves at home at IKEA. I was able to visit Angie and have dinner with Tauna, Sam, and my old workfriend, Kristin. I never get tired of the chicken and pineapple fried rice at Chiang-Mai-Thai in Uptown.

From Minneapolis, we traveled west to Alexandria, where we witnessed the wedding of Jonelle and Tim. I always love weddings when I know both of the people and I've been around the couple more or less since the beginning. This was one of those weddings. Two summers ago, I first met Tim at Shakespeare on the Green. He was not dating Jonelle yet, but if I hadn't known better, I would've thought they were long married, enjoying a date night with the kids at the sitters'. That's how easy and relaxed and natural they were together. I predicted that night that they would end up married, and it was exciting to see that prediction come true.

After the wedding, we caravaned up to Grand Forks, North Dakota, with Lisa Bartlett, who had met us at the wedding. It was our first trip to North Dakota, and I have to say that I was impressed. Grand Forks seemed like a nice town. The Bartlett home, a refurbished farmhouse in the country, is beautiful. It was relaxing to fall asleep with the windows open and the insects chirping (do insects chirp?), and fun to sit around the campfire and eat s'mores as the sun went down.

The long trip back to Omaha included a pit stop in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, for a Big City Burrito. Apparently this is a legend in Fort Collins, where Charlotte went to school, and it has recently become a franchise. It was tasty goodness. The trip home also meant the finale of Harry Potter. Charlotte, bless her heart, read the entire book to us over the course of our travels. That's how many hours we spent in the car! I miss Harry.

After the end of the book, I unpacked, repacked, went to bed and woke up to the start of another trip, this time for work. My co-workers Anne, Pam, Marty and I went on a four-day trip across greater Nebraska. We were all the way up in Scottsbluff and Chadron, where Nebraska is definitely considered "the west". The landscape was so different from this part of the state. The trip was tiring, but also a lot of fun. I got to see Chimney Rock and Carhenge, see a funny play, and put faces with the names of a lot of people I work with throughout the year.

It was a good trip, but I was glad to be home. I didn't leave my apartment all day on Saturday. My day consisted of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, several hours of Grey's Anatomy, lunch of Spaghetti-O's, a nap, some supper, and a movie. I was in bed again by 10:00. It was awesome.

I wish I could post pictures of all of these shenanigans, but since that would require me re-downloading everything to my work computer, you'll just have to use your imagination.