Does your girlfriend know that? and A Word for women

One of the questions I have to ask when I interview an incarcerated individual for my program is "Are you married or in a committed relationship?"

Nine times out of ten, especially if I've put on makeup and brushed my hair that day (and most times that doesn't even matter), the answer is, "Oh, definitely no."  I knowingly smile and move on to the next question.

Interestingly, it always seems to be these same guys who have visits from young females who love to hug them, hold their hands and bring their children to come and see their daddies.  Oh yeah, and they bring them Wendy's or pizza or whatever it is they're craving that day.  And they put money in their accounts, buy them shoes and get them metro cards.

The thing is, I'm tempted every time I see these girls to ask them that same question...are you married or in a committed relationship?  Because I have a feeling I would get quite a different answer.  And then- in this world where I would actually ask this question to females I don't know at all- I would follow it up with the following sequence of comments.

1.  Your man is a scumbag, who won't even admit to someone that he's in a relationship.  And you do what for him?

2.  Buying him shoes, food or other things will not make him faithful to you.  In fact, another girl is probably visiting him on the days you can't come by because you work two jobs to provide for your children.

3.  You deserve more than this.  Maybe you believe you're complete trash.  But you're not.  Respect yourself enough to not give him everything he wants all the time (whether that be things or your body or what have you).

Don't get me wrong; there are some gentlemen I work with who truly love their wives and/or significant others.  But most days, what I see is young girls offering themselves to be used by guys who don't give a flip about them.  Unfortunately, too many of these girls end up pregnant and alone or grasping at anything and everything possible to get this guy to stick around, to love them.  Most days, I don't get the opportunity to talk to these young girls about what they're doing.

But what I can do- and do as often as possible- is remind the guys here that those girls who sacrifice so much for you?  Who gave you children?  They're someone's daughter.  They're someone's treasure.  They're Someone's creation.  And whether you want to be with them long-term or not, at least have the decency to treat them with an ounce of the respect that you so desperately seek yourself.  You don't have to love them.  You don't have to be with them.  But you have to respect them.

Hey, I have a blog!

Somewhere around November of this year, our lives kicked into overdrive.

Chalk it up to our international travels...

Or maybe our domestic ones...

And craziness at work for me...

And Mason...

(No, he's not a mason.  Ok, he IS a Mason but not a Freemason.)

And what you're left with is a woefully under updated blog.

And, if I'm really honest, it's been an emotionally, spiritually and physically exhausting few months, with lots of internal processing, thinking, wrestling (figurative, mostly) and trying to understand the realities of the things I face every day at work.

But I'm back.  I can't promise much more than a few posts a month, and I don't even know if anyone is still around to read this thing.  But more posts are to come, many reflecting on incarceration, poverty, funny stories and other lighthearted moments.  

Because seriously, if you can't laugh, you might go crazy.

Hello Foot, Meet Mouth

One of the things I get to do at my job is help men and women obtain vital documentation such as a birth certificate, social security card, state ID or license.  I've practically become best buddies with the people at the MVA, and I've been known to call other states to try and get a birth certificate for someone who didn't know how to spell his mother's name.

Yesterday, I was helping Sally, a resident here, get her birth certificate.  Sally (not her real name) is in her thirties and a mother of seven- yes, seven- children.  She's hilariously funny, loves to cook and loves her children fiercly.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number to the Department of Health, as Sally sat in my office.

me: "Hi, my name is Liz and I work with incarcerated men and women.  I'm working with one young lady to help her get her birth control."

CRAP!  What did I just say?!!

"I mean birth CERTIFICATE, birth CERTIFICATE" I yelled into the phone, as the lady on the other end of the line died laughing.

Seven Words

I don't know why Mr. L is at the Pre-Release Center** and I may very well not want to know.  A man in his mid-40s, Mr. L has spent most of his life in and out of prison, most of it being in.

Mr. L says "I can't read real good."  What he means by that is that he can't read at all.  Besides his name, there are very few things that he can spell correctly or even write; even though he graduated from high school (yes, you read that right) his basic language, writing and reading skills are lower than those of the 3rd and 4th graders I tutored in Chicago.

This is not ok.

And so one of the mentors that I work with, Miss J, tutors him for 3 or 4 hours a week.  Persistent, hardworking and always affirming, Miss J takes hours out of her schedule (during the middle of the work day at that!) to come and spend with Mr. L, literally starting with the ABCs.  Miss J constantly has to remind Mr. L that the levels stated on the books they're using (ages 5-6, grade K, 1 and 2) aren't what's important; what's important is that he's learning.

Last week, Mr. L had a test.  Write down, in order, the days of the week.  Miss J was certain he could do it, and told him that she knew he could.  "You already know the last three letters of each and every one of them.  All you have to remember is the others!" Miss J reminded Mr. L.  But after just a few minutes, Mr. L shoved his paper across the table, filled with what could only be described as jibberish.

"Mr. L, you know this.  You can do this.  You know the answer!" Miss J reaffirmed as she pushed the paper back across the table to Mr. L.

And this time, after another 3 or 4 minutes, Mr. L slowly passed the paper across the table.  "There, I'm done.  I think I got it."

Glancing quickly across the words, Miss J knew that he had written each and every day- all seven- perfectly and in order.  "You did it!" Miss J cried.

And what Mr. L said next is what brought me to tears as Miss J told me this story over lunch one day.  "Never in my life have I spelled seven words correctly, all at one sitting.  I didn't think I could do it."

Seven words.  And a jolt of self-confidence so desperately needed.

_______________



**The Pre-Release Center is a county facility at which inmates may serve out the last 3-12 months of their sentence.  Focused on rehabilitation, employment and support, the PRC provides the much-needed step between full incarceration and civil society.  As the Welcome Home Program Coordinator, I get to match the residents of the PRC up with mentors from around the greater Washington area.

And finally, it's official

Well, it's official.  M and I are moving back to Washington, DC!

Today, M accepted a position doing his "dream job," and I accepted a position last Friday working for an organization I'm really excited about as well.  It has been amazing to see these things come together in just a matter of weeks.

And the reality is that- while we've worked hard and done our "due diligence"- we also know that we have been blessed beyond measure in getting both of these positions.  As I've said before, the health and wealth gospel that so dominates even mainstream American churches tends to make us think that if we love God then He's going to bless us with a job, a happy family and a white picket fence. 

How wrong we are to believe that this is the case.  God doesn't promise us material blessing.  He promises us more of Himself.

It is with that perspective that we are, therefore, overwhelmed (in a very good way) by what we have before us.  And we are so thankful that we have this opportunity.  Next weekend, July 2nd, we'll trek halfway across America, back to our home of DC.  Sure, we don't know yet exactly where we'll be living, but hey, that's minor, right?  We'll finally be able to take a couple of days off and enjoy the Eastern Shore, and will end our "holiday week" with M's family in Alabama.  And then, once again, the hard work of laboring with Him to see His kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven, will start again.

Now, what to do about the name of this blog...

My Proudest Moment

On Friday, the Breakthrough Youth and Family Services had its 10th annual Youth Awards Night.  Dinner under a tent, a robotics demonstration, artwork, dance and drums, the night was absolutely awesome for the 450 or so friends, family, youth, volunteers and donors who showed up.  As a tutor myself on Thursday afternoons, I was excited to celebrate the hard work of our kids.

And yet the thing that struck me the most about the night wasn't the awards or the cute dance or the great bucket drummers.  It was this video, "My Proudest Moment" (which I actually didn't get to see until today).  Watching it reminds me of the wonderful work that Breakthrough is doing.  That God is doing through Breakthrough.

My proudest moment?  Being even just a tiny, itsy-bitsy little part of the work that God is doing in this community and in these kids' lives.

A Big Week

 

We'll be spending Monday night through Sunday morning in DC.  It's a big trip.

M was recently selected as a Presidential Management Fellow, and this week is the three day job fair (hard to explain exactly how this works, but it's not just a normal job fair- people are actually interviewing you and hiring you, if not on the spot, then within a week or two.)  And since it overlaps nicely with Easter- when our favorite church has our favorite service (and it also happens to be M's birthday), I get to come along, too!

It's a big week.  The reality that we will be moving back to DC once M graduates is finally really sinking in...and I honestly can't hide my excitement.At the same time, there are a lot of unknowns- what exactly will M be doing?  What will I be doing, besides basking in the glow of being back in DC?  Where will we live?  How muggy and hot will it be this summer in DC?  You know, life-changing questions.

So if you're the praying type, we would definitely appreciate your prayers.  Not just for a safe trip, but for a successful trip.  That those positions M is most interested in would also be the most interested in him.  And that, ultimately, he would be able to use the skills and abilities he's been given to make our country a better place. (Cue cheesy, patriotic music. And a few waving flags.)

 

2011: The Year of the Spreadsheet

I have a weird love for Excel spreadsheets.

Chalk it up to my three years in monitoring and evaluation (also known as that time in my life when I was surrounded by people much, much smarter than me). Or maybe it's the simplicity they afford, with all the magic formulas out of view.  Or maybe it's all the colors you can use to color code things.  Pink for economic analysis!  Green for financial!  If/then statements!  Pivot tables!

Even now, as a Volunteer Coordinator, my love for spreadsheets is pretty evident.  Good Lord, if you had seen my Christmas Store matrix.  4 tabs of spreadsheets, y'all!  What can I say, I love them.

But I have to be honest.  Beyond listing out info on schools M was going to apply for (two years ago now), I've never really used spreadsheets in my personal life.  They've always been relegated to that area also occupied by suits, 7am alarms and sack lunches.

Until now.

Just yesterday, I realized that spreadsheets are a great way to create a family budget.  And they're great for calculating a "desired salary" for the job M will hopefully be getting in the next few months.  (Sidenote: his desired salary is that amount at which we can live in a small apartment and pay bills.) And they're also great for planning meals, creating an easy shopping list (and remembering if you had stuffed peppers three days ago) and tracking what you're actually eating.  Yippee!  My love can now come home!

So hear ye, hear ye!  I now pronounce 2011 the year of the spreadsheet!

I'll be sending you a template with all the appropriate formulas later.

 

It's the season of giving. Even for political candidates.

 

Whatever your political persuasion, I think what Bill, Breakthrough's Chief Operating Officer, says is key: it's important for people in our community (and any community) to feel that their voice matters, that someone will be thinking about them when they cast a vote or make a policy.  I know the reality of politics.  But I also know that good policy matters, even- and especially- in urban communities like East Garfield Park.

And let's be honest...the video is a pretty great advertisement for the work of Breakthrough!

So What Do You Do?

People- especially those not from Chicago- often ask me what exactly Breakthrough does.  It's not a simple question, and there's certainly not a simple answer.  But if you happen to be one of the people wondering, here are three videos that will tell you more.


Children & Family Services from Breakthrough Urban Ministries on Vimeo.



Breakthrough Fresh Market from Breakthrough Urban Ministries on Vimeo.



Breakthrough Adult Services from Breakthrough Urban Ministries on Vimeo.


I am so thankful to be a part of the transformative work of Breakthrough.

A Holy Disappointment

It's an odd phrase, that's for sure.

And yet I believe it is a "holy disappointment" that God is cultivating in me- a disappointment that I have no doubt Christ felt concerning His followers during His own life here on earth.  (And I dare say we have plenty of evidence to assume that God had a bit of that same feeling toward Israel.)  

It's a disappointment that we, the (American, middle/upper class) church, are so often more focused on our own personal development than on the spreading of the Gospel through love and good deeds.  A disappointment that we care more about talking about romantic relationships than talking about God's concern and command to love and serve others.  (God does care about romantic relationships and personal development.  I'm sure of it.  But from what I can tell from His Word, He's got a lot more He wants to do in us and through us than that.)  It's a holy disappointment that so many of us are missing out on the Spirit-filled life- one that produces great fruit- because we are too consumed by the rest of the stuff around us.  It's a disappointment that while many churches are doing the good works that give life to faith, so many more are not.

It's a disappointment that Satan sometimes uses to paralyze me, to make me cynical and sarcastic.  And yet it is a disappointment that- when I allow God to really use it- drags me to my knees as I beg God to make us- ME- better followers of Him.

And ultimately, it is a disappointment that reminds me of what's so great about the cross.  That God would allow His Son to die for people like you and me who- by ourselves- are pretty darn disappointing, even on our best days.  This disappointment reminds me that things are not as they should be- and yet there is a way that things can be made right.  There will be a day when things are made right.

And while I long for the day when there is no longer a need for holy disappointment, I will allow God to cultivate this holy disappointment in me today, that I- and we- might better serve Him.

 

My own little war zone

(Before I write ANYTHING I want to clarify that I am not actually comparing my story below to a real war zone. Also, I saw Vince Vaughn today at lunch and had to tell someone.)

After a weekend of not using the car at all (it was parked in Egypt because our famous neighbors were in town and our street was shut down) I got into the car this morning and realized that I was pretty much on empty. Not really wanting to fill up at the local BP that will run you $3.19 a gallon, I got about $5 worth of gas and then headed to work.

After lunch, I mentioned to my co-worker S (actually, that's confusing because there are 3 "S" names upstairs. Not kidding. Out of, like, 10) that I was going to go get some gas. She told me about a gas station in the neighborhood where I work that I had never seen before, where the gas is ridiculously cheap. She warned me "it's always crazy" but I didn't think much of it.

Then, I pulled into my own little war zone on the corner of California and Fulton. Never in my life have I seen so many cars going for so few pumps. Of course at a price of $2.81 (I think that was right), what do you expect? It was literally, crazy anarchy (this is why I think government/rule of law is a good thing!) I cringed MULTIPLE TIMES as cars came thisclose to hitting me. And then there was the dude with the thumping, loud music, and the lady who decided to take half an hour to figure out how to use the gas pump. (I'm thinking if you haven't learned by now, don't even try.)

I wanted to flick people off. I wanted to yell at these stupid people. And then I started thinking...it's funny the way people behave when going for what they consider to be "theirs," myself included. You could just see the tempers rising, and people starting to lose their cool. Maneuvering in and out was a mess and I am truly shocked, SHOCKED that someone didn't pull a gun by the time I left. Not that that's the way to fix a situation, but that's the way it rolls a lot of times in my hood.

And then I started thinking a lot about the violence in East Garfield Park. At one point this year, more people had died in Chicago due to violence than in Afghanistan and Iraq combined. What is it that makes us think it's ok to take life (whether by literal death or chewing out or demeaning, or destroying) for something? Is the gas, or your honor, or that piece of candy, or those extra profits really worth the value of a human life? What kind of culture do we live in when self, profit and property come before respect for one another? It's not a white thing or a black thing, or a poor thing or a rich thing, because it manifests itself across all racial, economic and social divides. It's a human condition thing. Why do you we feel so threatened by anyone taking what's "ours"?

And then I can't help but think of this guy I've studied. He said that when someone asks for a tunic, you give him the one off your back. When someone asks you to go one mile, you go two. The reality is that there's no room for selfishness in living out this call. There's no way you can think of yourself before your neighbors. Because, in fact, this Guy said there were two basic rules we were to live by: loving His Father and loving others.

What would our own little war zones look like if we truly lived like this?

Nine Months Later

June 5th will mark my 9 month anniversary at Breakthrough. And as I’ve written before, it’s hard to imagine that in this transition to Chicago, the Lord would make clear to me His plans to involve me in the work He is doing in urban America. I am more certain of this calling than ever before, though I can only dream of how it will manifest itself in the months and years to come.

At some point, if you’re a thinking, feeling human being, you get to the point where questions of inequality, faith, power, racial justice and mercy begin to haunt your waking and your sleeping. Why is it like this? And, maybe even more importantly, What am I called to do about it? Government programs or pulling one’s self up by one’s own boot straps or just trying harder or sending more money…God, how I wish the answers were that easy!

I can’t help but think that the Lord is deeply, deeply saddened by His children’s unwillingness- or maybe just oblivion- to His very clear calling to love our neighbors as ourselves. He has asked- commanded, really- us to love the “least of these,” not because they are a project to be fixed but because, in serving others, we reflect the grace and mercy of Christ and, in turn, learn something more about who God is. In the process, He transforms us, too, as we’re all in need of a Savior. I am certain God is encouraged by the mentors, the foster parents, the people praying, the tutors, the people sharing meals with their neighbors who don't look like them. But how many of us does that really, truly include? What would it look like in our every day lives to live out God’s calling to love our cities? Would we pray more? Would we give more? Would we serve more?

Maybe we don’t “do” because we don’t know exactly what to do. Maybe we’re uncomfortable leaving our safely-guarded homes, or we don’t feel like we have anything to give. Or maybe we want to fix things, but don’t know what the answer is, so don’t want to try. Or maybe we’re so consumed with ourselves that we don’t see anything outside of us. Or maybe we have our own misconceptions to get over.

I wish I could tell you what the answer is. I wish that right here on Hyde Park Heroes I could say “do xxx and poverty will decrease, racial injustices will stop, and we’ll all live as one big happy family.” The reality is that this side of heaven, I don’t actually believe it’s possible. And yet…we’re still called to do something. I can't tell you exactly what that something is. Realistically, it will look different for each of us. Some will feel called to vocationally serve, as I do. Some will be called to give. Some will be called to volunteer. The point is that inaction is not acceptable.

I would suggest you start here: down on your knees, asking God how you might love as He loved, serve as He served. Pray that He would be at work and use you in that work. Search the Scriptures to know and believe what God is saying. Read books about this work (I list a few suggestions below). Seek out people who are doing this good work. Step out in faith. Oblivion is no longer an excuse.

I long for the day when there is a holy city, where there is no more weeping, no more pain and no more injustice. It’s not going to be here, and to believe that it can be is foolishness, as long as people are imperfect. And yet every day Christians around the world pray that thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

What would it look like for you to be a part of God’s kingdom coming in urban America?

Book Suggestions

"Truth and Social Reform" (Vishal Mangalwadi)

"When Helping Hurts" (Steve Corbett & Brian Fikkert)

"Theirs is the Kingdom" (Bob Lupton)

many, many more!

Friday Round-Up

Praise the Lord, it's Friday! Here's what happened this week.

1. I somehow pushed the cork of our wine bottle INTO the bottle, instead of pulling it out. What can I say? I can do amazing things. I also sprayed red wine all over my white shirt in the process. Awesome!!

2. I drank 20 full glasses of water at work over the course of the week.

3. It snowed. Again.

4. It was butt cold. Again.

5. I finally got a new pair of jeans that look halfway decent.

6. I learned who invented the stoplight. (Thank you, Breakthrough youth Black History Month celebration!)

7. I made an awesome PowerPoint.

8. I successfully kept myself from mindlessly watching TV. We did watch Lost, but that's not mindless. AND, Lost (and new episodes of The Office) are part of our Lenten agreement with God.

9. I purchased our tickets to DC for Easter.

10. I arrived EARLY to work 3 days.

11. I almost ran out of gas twice.

12. I brought my lunch to work 4 out of 5 days. And the other day doesn't count because we were celebrating all the February birthdays.

13. I added 30 people on my LinkedIn profile in an office competition. And I would just like to say that what should matter is how many you have, not how many you can acquire in two weeks. I'm just saying.

14. I did the "2:30 Candy Dance" around the office. Don't ask. It's sorta scary. And there might be children watching.

15. Umm...probably lots of other stuff but those are the standouts.

Ok, so when I list it out like that, it doesn't really amount to much, does it? But hey, it's the small victories, right? RIGHT?!

Have a great weekend!

Uh, what?

Two "Uh, What?" moments today (sidenote, this is a new series on my blog. As of right now):

1. Ok, so like 94% of America, I'm watching Lost right now.

Uh, what?

I mean...huh? I get the whole Locke's body thing. And I understand that somehow they're not there but they are there, without being there. Right? And Miles still talks to dead people and Sawyer is still a bad actor and, man, I wish I had Kate's arms.

Other than that...um, what? Who are these new hippie people?? What's the deal with crazy Jacob? Is Locke the bad guy in the dark vest who is Jacob's arch nemesis? This is just getting ridiculous. And there's still 30 minutes to go...

2. One of my little kindergarten kids that I tutor on Tuesdays through Breakthrough said today, "Miss Liz, you have big eyes. Like a hamster."

Uh, what? And...thanks?

Compassion Tourism

I was really struck the other day by a phrase my colleague Mike used in one of our meetings.

Compassion tourism.

It's a lot of things, but it's partly the idea that so many of our "compassion ministries" or "urban ministries" look like day-long field trips to some exotic place. You know, like loading up your SUV with a group of friends and going and seeing the Amish. "Ooh, look how these people live! We should buy stuff from them! And take pictures! They're so not like us! That was fun!" I think it's a natural reaction to want to explore that which is "other" to our experience, and it's normal to be intrigued.

But.

The problem is when our work as the Church stops at compassion tourism; when loading into our cars, driving to the "bad part of town," doing some sort of service, taking some pictures with the cute kids, and then going right back to our regularly-scheduled programming is enough for us to get our fix, check that box, what have you. Don't get me wrong. As someone who works in full-time "urban ministry," these acts of service can very, very much be a blessing to those of us who are laboring day in and day out in these areas. But it sure can also be frustrating as car after car pulls in, pulls out and totally misses the whole point.

The point is that transformation- of communities, of us- doesn't happen at a drive-thru. Relationships aren't built in a quick two hours a year. And as long as you're "just visiting," you'll never fully see what could be. How often do we allow our hands to get dirty in the complications of poverty and injustice? Do we really take the time to start the messy process of relationship building, rather than just stuff giving or policy creating? Do we dedicate time in prayer, every day, for those organizations that do? I am the first to proclaim that not everyone can devote their life to this sort of work...and expectations of anything close to that are highly problematic. I also recognize the incredible importance of having those "in the trenches" help to educate those who aren't. But here's something everyone who professes Christ can and must do: love God and love others. Compassion tourism isn't sacrificial love.

Too often our "loving people" (very much like our "loving God") has to fit within our time frames, our ideas and our social or political convictions. If it can't be accomplished in a day of service or doesn't jive well with what we think about the world, we're probably too busy, too important, too...something to do it. But that's not the life we're called to live. That's not what Jesus taught, and it's certainly not a picture of the thriving church.

Maybe the problem is that we know, deep down inside, that it's not going to be easy or comfortable work. (Should this surprise us? I hope not.) Really, truly loving God and therefore loving our neighbors is dangerous work. It will have implications for every single second of your day. It will mean looking at the world in a different way. It will mean looking at our finances in a different way. It will mean looking at each other in a different way. And yet ultimately, it will make us better worshippers of Him.

I am hopeful for a day when the Church universal will again live out its calling in the world. When we, the Church-especially the Western church which seems to lag behind its counterparts- will no longer be bound by comfort, blinded by fear and drunk on our own selfish and, yes, sometimes petty needs. There are already bright spots: I can tell stories of lives transformed, of devoted prayers, of community restoration. And yet...

The road is long. Just as a living faith is an act-filled process, so loving our neighbors is as well. Let's start by putting away our cameras. Getting out of our cars. Putting down our stopwatches.

Let's go inside and sit for a while.

2,520 hours later...

In case you're too lazy to do the math, that's the number of hours that we've now lived in Chicago. And despite some very, very long days in the beginning (anyone remember that I worked for a bakery?) the days have flown by. M is done with his first semester and- after a crazy week this week- I'll be able to rest and relax a little next week and into the New Year!

To celebrate this 2,520 mark, I've put together some of the funny (and horrible) things that have happened to us since our arrival.

• It took three men an hour and a half to figure out how to get our couch up our very narrow staircase.
• I worked at a bakery for a week and was then cussed out in French when I quit for a job that paid a lot more.
• I worked at the University of Chicago law school for two weeks, where people thought I was related to the "Laird" part of the "Laird Bell Quadrangle" at the law school. I sort of let them believe it. But we might be!
• I cried every night for the first two weeks that we lived here.
• I somehow landed the most amazing, rewarding and fulfilling job I could have ever imagined.
• I bought a champagne stopper that has changed my life.
• We traveled to Georgia twice to attend weddings.
• M saw Oprah.
• M went on a fun Chicago scavenger hunt while I worked.
• We went Mac.
• The Gators lost to Alabama. Gross.
• We realized that most people outside the Beltway don't think every day about policy or politics.
• I learned how to use Skype.
• I was greeted nearly every day by a butt-dancing, whistling crossing guard.
• The car battery died.
• We went to Iowa. Almost as exciting as the car battery.
• 40 degrees now feels like spring.
• The car slid on ice when I was driving and I got really scared.
• We successfully hosted Thanksgiving.
• We're still here.

Nothing too earth-shattering, but quite a few of these are accomplishments that I think we can be proud of, or at least are things that we can now look back on and laugh or say, "Remember when..?" These three and a half months have literally flown by. And while I probably miss friends back in DC now more than ever, we're being provided for and learning to make our way in the Second City. That's all we can ask for. Oh, and a little warmer weather.

It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Finals

Remember those things, those "tests," we had to take at the end of the semester in college? Apparently they exist in Masters programs, too. Shocking, right? And apparently they're a lot harder than writing some BS paper about the impact of blah blah blah on blah blah blah. Not that I EVER BSed my way through a paper in college. Ever.

M is in full finals mode, studying until well after midnight in one of the Harry Potter-esque libraries (my brother-in-law coined that term) on campus. I don't really understand what he's studying, so I'm not much help, especially since everything is extremely quantitative and I haven't taken math since, oh, high school. Not an exaggeration. I'm more of a words gal, myself.

In one short phrase, M is working his arse off. And I, in my sappy, newlywed state, am so proud of him. He gets things I can't even begin to understand. He can explain to you the intricacies of game theory (have him explain what that even is) and can tell you more than you probably want to know about statistics and running regressions. It's so amazing for me to hear him talk about how the things he's learning are an integral part of good policy making and how he believes now, more than ever, that this is what he's supposed to be doing. We're just praying an employer thinks that too. Dear God, please.

But for now, all we need to do is get to December 11th, when this semester- and all the finals- are over. It's beginning to look a lot like the end of a semester. Thank God.

Pretty Much I'm Martha Stewart

Minus that whole insider trading and jail piece.

My in-laws came to town this week for Thanksgiving...and can I just say: we got the job done! The whole event was spectacular, if I do say so myself. The food was great, the turkey was perfect, the homemade rolls were just right (A, my sister-in-law, made them) and the pies were to die for. This was the menu: turkey. obviously. broccoli cheese casserole. mashed potatoes. cornbread stuffing. rolls. sweet potato casserole. home-cooked green beans (despite M's pleas to have canned ones. Ugh.) pumpkin pie. Kentucky bourbon pie. cranberry sauce. Massive amounts of moaning and patting of stomachs. red wine. white wine. water. more red wine.

Since you could't all be here (really, we meant to invite you...really...) I've included some of the best shots below. Look at how well that table is set with our so-fantastic Kate Spade china! And crystal! And I even had little leaves to sprinkle on the golden tablecloth! Watch out Martha...Liz Laird ain't playin.

Dancing King

On my way to and from work, I quite often see a man that I just HAVE to tell you about.

On first glance, he looks like a crossing guard. I think he has a badge and a hat and maybe a neon vest? Now that I think about, I'm not sure exactly what makes me think he's a crossing guard. Maybe it's that he's standing on the corner with a whistle.

Except...he's whistling a beat. Tweet! Tweet! Tweet! Tweet! And he's not waving cars by. He's dancing. Like full on "elbows move down towards hips and hips thrust outward" (also known as "humping the air") to the beat of his own whistle. Sometimes he changes it up, turns around and does the butt pump instead. I have no idea who this man is, or where he comes from. But man, does he make me smile.