I'm almost always hot. Now depending on who is reading this you may be thinking I'm referring to my physical appearance in which case right now you are either saying "Boy, howdie!" or "Eh, wrong!" For those of you who processed that first sentence and thought the former- YOUR SOOO SWEET (I'm blushing). For those whose brain waves took them straight to the latter, I AIN'T MAD AT YA (The Brad is an acquired taste). :)
All joking aside, I'm actually speaking about temperature. For those who have known me during my speech/debate years, you have seen (and possibly felt...for which I'm sorry) that first hand. In a full suit, performing in a small overly-heated classroom, my brow becomes a multitude of perpetually perspiring pores that, when I move my head quickly, can easily become tiny projectiles seeking out unassuming spectators to bombard. It should be a lot like going to watch a show at Sea World, the first few rows should heed a warning that if you sit this close to the performer, you WILL get wet.
I know that is a VERY unattractive quality of mine, and many of you "Boy, howdie!" people are quickly changing your responses to "Eh, wrong!" Nonetheless, it is a truth about who I am. I am hot-natured. It has been proven time and time again. Whenever I circle up with a group of people and we hold hands to pray, 9 times out of 10 BOTH people feel (and possible comment) on how warm my hands are. Likewise, most hands I touch are dumbfoundingly chilly to me.
Moreover, when ever most people in the room are comfortable, I am burning up. When ever most everyone is cold, I'm right as rain. I try to keep my house at a cool 65 degrees during the day, and turn that down to 58 when I'm in bed. Sleeping under large blankets when it is two degrees below nipply all around me is one of my favorite "small pleasures" in the world...nay...the universe.
In Charlotte, I can wear shorts up almost to Halloween depending on where in the historic highs-to-lows spectrum the temperature falls. Now, don't get me wrong, I CAN get cold. In fact, what made me think of all this is the cold weather I have been experiencing the last several days here in the mountains of Tennessee. I've been walking the neighborhood with my dad each day, and most of the time when we get out to door and moving by 4:00 pm, I'm solid. However, a few nights ago we went out about 5:30 pm. With the wind in our face (and my stupidity in forgetting any insulated head wear) my ears felt like icicles, my nose felt like I had just dipped it in liquid nitrogen, and even my cheeks could have served as miniature ice rinks for a winter-themed flea circus.
Despite Jack Frost nipping at my entire facial structure, I was only in minor discomfort. I knew that had the end of the 1+ mile trek my father and I were on awaited a haven of warming bliss that is my parent's house. That's the thing. No matter how cold it gets, it is so much easier to get warmer than to cool down when it is unbearably hot. Blankets, space heaters, fires, another person's body heat (giggity, giggity!), and a multitude of other practical and creative ways of getting warm exist. Now, when I am burning up like two weasels going at it in a tube sock, what is there that can really make me cooler? Central air conditioning is bound to just cooling a structure, fans only push air, ice melts away...so tell me...why would anyone rather be hot than cold?
Yet gender seems to play a role in this. I'd say 95% of all women I meet HATE being cold and much rather be warm. I've seen this played out in the lives of my married friends whose homes were so delightfully chilled yet once they tie that knot, BAM!, the house heat-factor gets so toasty I feel like we are two blocks too close to an active volcano.
I guess that is one of those sacrifices for love that I'm sure, when the time comes, I'll be more than happy to make. (Others include having to share my bed with another human being, doubling my laundry duty, and watching more of the Oxygen channel). I just hope that whomever ends up with me understands that if that thermostat gets above 70, I'm going to start melting a way like Frosty the Snowman. And that won't be good for the furniture. I never quite understood the reasoning behind a husband creating a "man cave". I think I do now....caves are cold. And that is cool with me.
What I'm Into:
Bible Verse: "I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm- neither hot nor cold- I am about to spit you out of my mouth." -Revelation 3:15-16
Song: "Ice Ice Baby" - Vanilla Ice. While I never really see myself as a person who could connect with this infamous white rapper from the early '90s, I think the song has a good message: colder is better. Hey, Vanilla must have known something as this song was the first hip-hop recording to top the Billboard Charts.
Movie: Ice Age- I don't care what they did for the entire movie or the sequels for that matter. The Scrat MADE this film. The hilarity in that pre-historic squirrel trying to get a nut is one of the funniest five minutes (give or take) that I've seen in any movie.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Own It
It has become increasingly apparent to me over the last several months that among many of our world's ever-expanding lists of maladies is Pass-The-Buck Syndrome.
Admittedly, I am no more immune to this affliction than any other person I have encountered. However, it is something that, with my heightened awareness to the problem, I have consciously attempted to eradicate from my modus operandi.
The concept is so simple and easy to implement that I believe we responsively utilize its tenants to placate any chance of grief or remorse we may feel as a result of our actions, reactions, or ideologies. Compounding the issue is that passing the buck has become so commonplace that we have cultivated a benign indifference or even a gentle acceptance to others who blatantly use this strategy to explain away darn near ANYTHING.
The senior pastor at my church, Dr. Jim White, recently blogged about this epidemic behavior. You can read his blog on this matter at the website churchandculture.org. In his blog entitled McVictim, Dr. White expands on a New York Times article by David Gratzer that speaks about what he refers to as "McVictim Syndrome" which specifically points to Americans placing blame on external factors for the continuously climbing national obesity rate.
As is pointed out in Dr. White's blog, this is simply a microcosm to a larger issue that suggests American society deliberately blames other people/things for their difficulties or mistakes because then it is no longer their problem. The person then can rationalize that they no longer have to deal with the infraction but rather an outside agent must change in order for there to be any resolution.
There are too many examples of this throughout our culture, a plethora of them coming from pop culture. Recently, after dropping an arguably so-easy-a-caveman-could-do-it catch in the endzone to win the game, Buffalo Bills wide receiver Steve Johnson (who is on my fantasy team this year and is one of the only bright spots on my roster) directed a tweet to God asking why would he let such a thing happen.
Really?
No seriously, really?
The dude dropped a pass. It hit him in the hands. He SHOULD have caught it, he COULD have caught it. Instead of owning it, he decides to blame the Big Man. Now, even if the guy does thank God for every catch he makes, does he really believe God is the one catching the ball every time? That God is puppeteering him down the field on all the successful touchdowns Steve has had this year? It's amazing to me how much we make God play a secondary roll in our successes then is immediately upgraded to the starring role in our failures.
While The Creator of the Universe seems to be humanity's primary scapegoat, we have an uncanny ability to make a scapegoat out of darn near anything. Adam had Eve as his "fall guy" from the moment God asked THE question. I can't tell you how many times I've used the phrase "If I only had {this}, things would have been different" or "If only {this} would have happened instead of {that}" or "If {he/she} didn't do this, then I would have done it differently."
There are some people I've met that if I actually heard them say "I'm sorry" or "My fault", I would be...what's the best word...ah...FLABBERGHASTED. At one point, I would have said that I was one of those FLABBERGHASTERS, but hopefully not any more. The problem with actually trying to "own it" (whatever IT may be) is that you handicap yourself. While surrounded by others who are pass-the-buckers, the moment you take the blame for something they are more than willing to let you hear about it.
Integrity comes at a high price more times than not, but just think if we all actively tried to "own it" a little more. If we started being a little more honest with ourselves and were more thoughtful about the reprocusions of our actions, how much could it change us? How much could it change those around us? What if we actually realized it was us who needed to change, how much more willing would we be to go through with changes that would better ourselves?
All I can ask, friends, is that you think on these things and hold me accountable to the sentiments I've shared (cuz if you don't, it's all your fault).*
*Sarcasm used to make a point. Just in case ya missed it
What I'm into:
Bible Verse- 1 Timothy 4:16 "Keep a close watch on yourself and your teaching. Stay true to what is right, and God will save you and those who hear you."
Movie- Scott Pilgram vs The World: Okay the movie looks very silly at first glance, and honestly...it is pretty silly. But before you knock the format, look at the film for what it is- a story about a young adult learning about himself and how he effects the world around him. There's a very honest moment at the end where Michael Cera's character comes to the realization of how much of the drama that surrounds him was caused by HIM. And he owns it. *Side note, whomever the actress is who plays Knives Chow is ridiculously cute. I liked the alternate ending way better than the one they showed in theatres.
Song- Corey Smith "As Angels Cry": For those of you who don't know Corey is an avid UGA fan who sings a lot about football, drinking beer, and having "good times". However, this song is so beautiful and strangely honest that it impacted me greatly. It's all about owning it- the mistakes in our lives and how that can come back to haunt us. The second verse is my favorite:
Feels like I slip further from you every single day
It's getting harder to call your name as I bow my head to pray
And it's nobody's fault but mine
Nobody's but my own
All of the doubts in my head leave no will to carry on
And they're multiplying
Every link in the chain of consequences
Ohh, I'm beaten by the chain
Thank God that when we have moments like this we can ask for forgiveness and be granted it and given peace.
Admittedly, I am no more immune to this affliction than any other person I have encountered. However, it is something that, with my heightened awareness to the problem, I have consciously attempted to eradicate from my modus operandi.
The concept is so simple and easy to implement that I believe we responsively utilize its tenants to placate any chance of grief or remorse we may feel as a result of our actions, reactions, or ideologies. Compounding the issue is that passing the buck has become so commonplace that we have cultivated a benign indifference or even a gentle acceptance to others who blatantly use this strategy to explain away darn near ANYTHING.
The senior pastor at my church, Dr. Jim White, recently blogged about this epidemic behavior. You can read his blog on this matter at the website churchandculture.org. In his blog entitled McVictim, Dr. White expands on a New York Times article by David Gratzer that speaks about what he refers to as "McVictim Syndrome" which specifically points to Americans placing blame on external factors for the continuously climbing national obesity rate.
As is pointed out in Dr. White's blog, this is simply a microcosm to a larger issue that suggests American society deliberately blames other people/things for their difficulties or mistakes because then it is no longer their problem. The person then can rationalize that they no longer have to deal with the infraction but rather an outside agent must change in order for there to be any resolution.
There are too many examples of this throughout our culture, a plethora of them coming from pop culture. Recently, after dropping an arguably so-easy-a-caveman-could-do-it catch in the endzone to win the game, Buffalo Bills wide receiver Steve Johnson (who is on my fantasy team this year and is one of the only bright spots on my roster) directed a tweet to God asking why would he let such a thing happen.
Really?
No seriously, really?
The dude dropped a pass. It hit him in the hands. He SHOULD have caught it, he COULD have caught it. Instead of owning it, he decides to blame the Big Man. Now, even if the guy does thank God for every catch he makes, does he really believe God is the one catching the ball every time? That God is puppeteering him down the field on all the successful touchdowns Steve has had this year? It's amazing to me how much we make God play a secondary roll in our successes then is immediately upgraded to the starring role in our failures.
While The Creator of the Universe seems to be humanity's primary scapegoat, we have an uncanny ability to make a scapegoat out of darn near anything. Adam had Eve as his "fall guy" from the moment God asked THE question. I can't tell you how many times I've used the phrase "If I only had {this}, things would have been different" or "If only {this} would have happened instead of {that}" or "If {he/she} didn't do this, then I would have done it differently."
There are some people I've met that if I actually heard them say "I'm sorry" or "My fault", I would be...what's the best word...ah...FLABBERGHASTED. At one point, I would have said that I was one of those FLABBERGHASTERS, but hopefully not any more. The problem with actually trying to "own it" (whatever IT may be) is that you handicap yourself. While surrounded by others who are pass-the-buckers, the moment you take the blame for something they are more than willing to let you hear about it.
Integrity comes at a high price more times than not, but just think if we all actively tried to "own it" a little more. If we started being a little more honest with ourselves and were more thoughtful about the reprocusions of our actions, how much could it change us? How much could it change those around us? What if we actually realized it was us who needed to change, how much more willing would we be to go through with changes that would better ourselves?
All I can ask, friends, is that you think on these things and hold me accountable to the sentiments I've shared (cuz if you don't, it's all your fault).*
*Sarcasm used to make a point. Just in case ya missed it
What I'm into:
Bible Verse- 1 Timothy 4:16 "Keep a close watch on yourself and your teaching. Stay true to what is right, and God will save you and those who hear you."
Movie- Scott Pilgram vs The World: Okay the movie looks very silly at first glance, and honestly...it is pretty silly. But before you knock the format, look at the film for what it is- a story about a young adult learning about himself and how he effects the world around him. There's a very honest moment at the end where Michael Cera's character comes to the realization of how much of the drama that surrounds him was caused by HIM. And he owns it. *Side note, whomever the actress is who plays Knives Chow is ridiculously cute. I liked the alternate ending way better than the one they showed in theatres.
Song- Corey Smith "As Angels Cry": For those of you who don't know Corey is an avid UGA fan who sings a lot about football, drinking beer, and having "good times". However, this song is so beautiful and strangely honest that it impacted me greatly. It's all about owning it- the mistakes in our lives and how that can come back to haunt us. The second verse is my favorite:
Feels like I slip further from you every single day
It's getting harder to call your name as I bow my head to pray
And it's nobody's fault but mine
Nobody's but my own
All of the doubts in my head leave no will to carry on
And they're multiplying
Every link in the chain of consequences
Ohh, I'm beaten by the chain
Thank God that when we have moments like this we can ask for forgiveness and be granted it and given peace.
Friday, December 10, 2010
The Not-So-Smooth Operator
I have made a discovery. A SELF-discovery. In a crystallizing moment of clarity while out on the town in Charleston, SC I realized something very important about myself: I have no clue how to talk to women.
Now let me be clear, I can talk to a female in the general conversation sense. It's when I'm expected to "talk" to the fairer sex that things start going downhill. This might explain my natural aversion to dance clubs, "hip" bars, and other nocturnal hang outs for the young and unattached. (Yes, I used the word hip to describe something being widely celebrated and well attended by the masses... and I felt old doing it).
It's difficult enough for me to approach an attractive stranger and spark a conversation with an already implied undertone of "I think your purty". Add loud music, 70 other dudes trying to do the same thing, and the constant flow of adult libations, and I go from the far less than suave Michael Cera in Superbad to the almost-too-sad-to-watch-"Did I do thaaaattttt" awkwardness that is Steve Urkel.
I would like to say that my desire for mature, meaningful conversation about topics that go beyond the obligatory bar babble of "where you from, what do you do, who's your favorite Jonas brother" plays a significant role in my flirting afflictions. However, I still gave it a go with a few intriguing ladies at several Charleston locales and came out the other side looking like that uncle that gets invited to the Christmas party every year but everyone in the family thinks he's a little off so he ends up sitting at the piano by himself downing the last of the egg nog.
The crazy thing is, I consider myself a good communicator. Heck, I take pride in my abilities to gab with the best of them. And, in my humble opinion, I CAN talk up a storm without creating an impulse for those near me to run for cover. But that's when it's all family and friends. The condemning variable seems to be when there is a single, attractive female in the equation. If I see someone with future Mrs. Smalling potential (yes, I'm old fashioned, I'm hoping my wife will not mind taking my name) I some how some way crash and burn.
It's not that I clam up, or start yammering like Bobcat Goldthwait. I just can't find anything to say that tells a woman of interest that I'm the man she's been looking for. Shoot, I can't find anything to say that tells her "hey, this guy is worth talking to for more than 5 minutes".
My size may have something to do with it as well. Once in high school, while on vacation in exotic Myrtle Beach, I approached an attractive girl to ask if she would honor me with a dance. We were at House of Blues and it was "teen night". Granted the young woman I approached was all of about 5'2"...and I was at least 6'2" at the time. And I did tap her on the shoulder from behind so she didn't see me until I was right there. But when she turned and yelled "Ahh!" as her eyes pried open wide and the corner of her lips bent downwards in the international expression of "I'm NOT happy to see you"... I was more sad than offended. I still had the gumption to ask for a dance. I'll give you 3 guesses to figure out what her answer was. Needless to say I morphed into that aforementioned hypothetical uncle, and slid sluggishly back to a nice corner of the room to watch my peers merrily cut a rug with fun-loving strangers.
Maybe I put too much pressure on myself. Maybe I think too much about the whole dating thing. Maybe I should become a teacher at an all dudes school and live out the rest of my years as the professorial bachelor...full of wisdom and insight...just not swagger (though I started using that Old Spice deodorant called "swagger", who knows it might just seep some into my bloodstream). What I do know, is that if and when I meet that special someone, she will BE that special someone precisely because she looks beyond my initial inability to woo her with words. I'm confident that when that woman finally does enter my life, my struggles to verbally invigorate her will dissipate quickly. And if there is one thing I AM confident in it's my ability to bring the romance in a relationship...and you don't need words when both of you are speechless.
What I'm Into:
Bible Verse- 1 John 4:18 There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
Movie- "Love Actually" It's Christmas time and that movie is a Christmas time movie. Granted there is a couple of story lines in the movie I just don't like (namely Kiera Knightley's), but overall it makes me happy to watch it. I get a little sappy with it, but that's a good thing from time to time.
Song- "Those I Loved"- Eric Church. I'm going through a country phase right now. I dig a lot of the songs that aren't as twangy and have deeper messages than "I ran over my dog with my truck". Eric Church has got a lot of good ones, but this one about the people he has loved in his life is pretty solid.
Now let me be clear, I can talk to a female in the general conversation sense. It's when I'm expected to "talk" to the fairer sex that things start going downhill. This might explain my natural aversion to dance clubs, "hip" bars, and other nocturnal hang outs for the young and unattached. (Yes, I used the word hip to describe something being widely celebrated and well attended by the masses... and I felt old doing it).
It's difficult enough for me to approach an attractive stranger and spark a conversation with an already implied undertone of "I think your purty". Add loud music, 70 other dudes trying to do the same thing, and the constant flow of adult libations, and I go from the far less than suave Michael Cera in Superbad to the almost-too-sad-to-watch-"Did I do thaaaattttt" awkwardness that is Steve Urkel.
I would like to say that my desire for mature, meaningful conversation about topics that go beyond the obligatory bar babble of "where you from, what do you do, who's your favorite Jonas brother" plays a significant role in my flirting afflictions. However, I still gave it a go with a few intriguing ladies at several Charleston locales and came out the other side looking like that uncle that gets invited to the Christmas party every year but everyone in the family thinks he's a little off so he ends up sitting at the piano by himself downing the last of the egg nog.
The crazy thing is, I consider myself a good communicator. Heck, I take pride in my abilities to gab with the best of them. And, in my humble opinion, I CAN talk up a storm without creating an impulse for those near me to run for cover. But that's when it's all family and friends. The condemning variable seems to be when there is a single, attractive female in the equation. If I see someone with future Mrs. Smalling potential (yes, I'm old fashioned, I'm hoping my wife will not mind taking my name) I some how some way crash and burn.
It's not that I clam up, or start yammering like Bobcat Goldthwait. I just can't find anything to say that tells a woman of interest that I'm the man she's been looking for. Shoot, I can't find anything to say that tells her "hey, this guy is worth talking to for more than 5 minutes".
My size may have something to do with it as well. Once in high school, while on vacation in exotic Myrtle Beach, I approached an attractive girl to ask if she would honor me with a dance. We were at House of Blues and it was "teen night". Granted the young woman I approached was all of about 5'2"...and I was at least 6'2" at the time. And I did tap her on the shoulder from behind so she didn't see me until I was right there. But when she turned and yelled "Ahh!" as her eyes pried open wide and the corner of her lips bent downwards in the international expression of "I'm NOT happy to see you"... I was more sad than offended. I still had the gumption to ask for a dance. I'll give you 3 guesses to figure out what her answer was. Needless to say I morphed into that aforementioned hypothetical uncle, and slid sluggishly back to a nice corner of the room to watch my peers merrily cut a rug with fun-loving strangers.
Maybe I put too much pressure on myself. Maybe I think too much about the whole dating thing. Maybe I should become a teacher at an all dudes school and live out the rest of my years as the professorial bachelor...full of wisdom and insight...just not swagger (though I started using that Old Spice deodorant called "swagger", who knows it might just seep some into my bloodstream). What I do know, is that if and when I meet that special someone, she will BE that special someone precisely because she looks beyond my initial inability to woo her with words. I'm confident that when that woman finally does enter my life, my struggles to verbally invigorate her will dissipate quickly. And if there is one thing I AM confident in it's my ability to bring the romance in a relationship...and you don't need words when both of you are speechless.
What I'm Into:
Bible Verse- 1 John 4:18 There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
Movie- "Love Actually" It's Christmas time and that movie is a Christmas time movie. Granted there is a couple of story lines in the movie I just don't like (namely Kiera Knightley's), but overall it makes me happy to watch it. I get a little sappy with it, but that's a good thing from time to time.
Song- "Those I Loved"- Eric Church. I'm going through a country phase right now. I dig a lot of the songs that aren't as twangy and have deeper messages than "I ran over my dog with my truck". Eric Church has got a lot of good ones, but this one about the people he has loved in his life is pretty solid.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Biggy Smallz in the Big City
With a headache, sore throat, and deeply concerning blurred vision, the beginning of my family's 10+ hour trek to New York City was not starting off on the best of foots for yours truly.
I just plain didn't feel well. Determined to not let something as ludicrous as the common cold (or possibly the flu) keep me from enjoying only my second visit to The Big Apple, I said a little prayer to God that he not let whatever was causing this bodily turmoil effect my or my family's fun on this 1st annual Turkey Day Tussle with NYC's abundance of "wild life". Grammatically I realize that it should be "my family's or my..." but I prayed for me first and them second, which should be somewhat of an indication that this prayer was primarily selfish in nature.
However, this was not my ordinary prayer. There was more audacity in my words to the God I love than ever before. I prayed not only with 100% certainty that God COULD take this sickness away from me but also that He WOULD take it away. After driving for about an hour in Virginia, feeling the worst I've felt in a very long time, all the sudden my symptoms began fading away. I had been sweating from a fever I must have been running but all the sudden the headache and the fever evaporated like condensation off the windshield. The rest of the trip I would suffer from minor symptoms- congestion, occasional coughing, scratchy throat- but not ONCE did the way I felt physically interrupt our family's reunion in The City that Never Sleeps. It was a God thing. This trip was going to be great.
It was great. Except for (and this is the one and ONLY time I will mention it in this blog...the hurt still lingers) the Clemson football game Saturday night. The trip was made great by small, unexpected, even in some cases, embarrassing occurrences that infiltrated our plans each day we were there. It started about 15 minutes after we finally reached the city. Dad dropped mom and me off at the hotel with the luggage and then began the process of making four immediate left turns around the block to get to the parking deck directly behind the hotel on a one-way street.
Being the country folk that we are, some of the "rules of the road" in big metropolitan areas were foreign to us. This included, for my dad, driving while talking on the cell phone. Now forget for a moment that he DOES have a bluetooth headset, has driven in Washington D.C. where the rule also applies, and that he was simply calling my mother to tell her to go ahead and check in (which we were already doing), and just remember that NYC is chaotic and can be flustering at times. Enter NYPD's finest stage left. Dad's smooth salesmanship skills got him out of getting a double whammy ticket of both 1)no seat belt on and 2)driving while talking on the phone, but he was still hit with #2.
To make matters worse was the fact that when he rolled the window down to address the officer, the window took that opportune moment to malfunction and the glass almost completely sank into it's slot between the door paneling. After receiving his fineable offense documentation, dad had to park our car, which had a broken window, in a parking deck in NYC. Luckily he was able to manhandle the glass to get it back up to at least look fully functional only to leave it for us to worry about on the trip back home.
That started the trip off on a rough, yet somewhat comical rhythm that persistent until we got back to Tennessee. Intermittent to the comedy was the phenomenal cuisine we took in every day. We had great fish, great Italian, and a fantastic yet uncustomary Thanksgiving dinner. One of our servers was quick to point out that we must be from the south after I said something at the table. Taken back, since I believe I don't sound that southern at all, I questioned how she knew we were from God's country (that's right, I said it). Apparently I had said "y'all" and she got a kick out of that. It was odd to me, something so natural to say that it has become a staple of my everyday vernacular could be pinpointed and labeled so quickly by a stranger.
After visiting my brother at his place of work and seeing where he does...whatever it is that he does, I decided this was our first photo opp. I took pictures of him in his natural element- looking at six different computer screens all with different info on it and deciphering the data to make meaningful decisions that ultimately makes money for his company. I had to get in on that action...so we took pictures of me at the desk looking like I would if I had his job. Needless to say stupefied doesn't quite do justice to my look.
On the way down the elevator in this lovely place of New York professionalism, one person in our party created yet another hilarious moment. While I won't say his name to protect both his pride and his identity, I will say that this instance proves that the street smart intelligence I received was maternal (love you dad). Standing more than two feet from the wall of the downward moving elevator, this person must have thought the wall was literally right behind them and as if in slow motion began to gently rock back on his heels expected the sturdy wood paneling behind him to act as a casual lean-to during the brief 8-floor decent. Eventually gravity took hold and introduced this nameless person to the realization that the wall he expected to be directly behind him was a good two feet away, and when he hit, the elevator shook side to side violently enough to make a blind person believe an earthquake hit a 5 on the richter scale.
A cloud of dust that had been hibernating behind the wood paneling was released into the elevator's small space. After gathering ourselves from concern at first then harmonious laughter, the Smalling family exited the elevator whistling a peppy tune as to avoid any suspicion from the non-existent spectators of the building's lobby.
Mom and I got to see the Broadway Musical "Promises, Promises" which was great. Molly Shannon was a hit in the show and Sean Hayes must have been ad libbing something fierce because he obviously caught two of his co-stars completely by surprise with a few lines. The whole family went to see the Rockette's Christmas Spectacular in Radio City Music Hall. It was very well done, but what took me by surprise was the reverence paid to Jesus Christ. After 45 minutes of a show that had plenty of well choreographed dancing and a Santa Claus popping off about the "magic of Christmas," the last thing I expected to hear or see was anything about the birth of our Savior. Yet there it was, the end of the show, and a 14-year old boy read the story of Jesus being born to his younger brother and sister which lead into a living nativity scene complete with live sheep and camels. (Admittedly I was waiting for one of those creatures to do their business on stage...but apparently they are very well trained).
At a show in NYC that was as secular a venue as you can get with what I am sure was an audience full of every religion, doctrine, and ideology you could think of, I was taken back at the reverence and sincerity the show gave to the real reason we celebrate Christmas. It was truly great, and I wonder to this day how many of those people on stage performing in those scenes really believed in what they were demonstrating. I also wondered about the hundreds of children in the audience, many of which may have grown in homes that never paid any attention to the story of Jesus, and how they were responding to what was being presented to them. I can only hope that the Rockette's Christmas Spectacular somehow was used to the glory of God that day.
Sunday got there quickly, and mom, dad, and I were trying to quickly scarf down the hotel's free breakfast and get on the road before the major "heading home" traffic hit the highways. That really, REALLY didn't work out for us. We hit the road by 8:00 am, but dad's GPS was being less than helpful and we ended up in downtown Newark, NJ. It took us at least 30 minutes to go 8 miles on a road that had more stop lights than NYC has Starbucks. None of which had sensors and we were stopped by pretty much EVERY SINGLE RED LIGHT! We finally got back on the highway and off we went, for a while. We hit our first bit of traffic in Jersey, got through that, then hit traffic in Pennsylvania, got through that, then hit traffic in Virginia. Now when I say traffic, I'm talking stop for a couple of minutes- move 2 yards- stop for a few minutes again-type traffic. We didn't get back home until 11:30 that night. A nice little, 15+ hour trip.
Granted we stopped to eat and to find a store open on Sunday morning that had duck tape (remember the window problem). All in all it was an unforgettable experience with the 3 people I love most in the world. And since this may become an annual thing for us, I'm expecting many more stories to come. God help us if we ever decide to go overseas. :)
What I'm Into:
Movie- We saw "Love and Other Drugs" in NYC. It was very good. I enjoyed it thoroughly. Be warned, it's got a lot of sex and nudity in it and I DO NOT recommend watching it with your parents. However the acting was great, the story is interesting, and it really hits home for anyone who has a family member or friend that has suffered from Parkinson's.
Song- "New York, New York"- Ryan Adams. For obvious reasons. Plus it's catchy and not as cliche as other songs about The Big Apple. Interesting note: the video for his song was shot Sept. 7, 2001 and the twin towers stand prominently in the background to open the video...only 4 days later until every American's (and so many other's) world changed forever.
Bible Verse- 1 John 3:21-22 "Dear friends, if our conscience is clear, we can come to God with bold confidence. And we will receive whatever we request because we obey him and do the things that please him."
I just plain didn't feel well. Determined to not let something as ludicrous as the common cold (or possibly the flu) keep me from enjoying only my second visit to The Big Apple, I said a little prayer to God that he not let whatever was causing this bodily turmoil effect my or my family's fun on this 1st annual Turkey Day Tussle with NYC's abundance of "wild life". Grammatically I realize that it should be "my family's or my..." but I prayed for me first and them second, which should be somewhat of an indication that this prayer was primarily selfish in nature.
However, this was not my ordinary prayer. There was more audacity in my words to the God I love than ever before. I prayed not only with 100% certainty that God COULD take this sickness away from me but also that He WOULD take it away. After driving for about an hour in Virginia, feeling the worst I've felt in a very long time, all the sudden my symptoms began fading away. I had been sweating from a fever I must have been running but all the sudden the headache and the fever evaporated like condensation off the windshield. The rest of the trip I would suffer from minor symptoms- congestion, occasional coughing, scratchy throat- but not ONCE did the way I felt physically interrupt our family's reunion in The City that Never Sleeps. It was a God thing. This trip was going to be great.
It was great. Except for (and this is the one and ONLY time I will mention it in this blog...the hurt still lingers) the Clemson football game Saturday night. The trip was made great by small, unexpected, even in some cases, embarrassing occurrences that infiltrated our plans each day we were there. It started about 15 minutes after we finally reached the city. Dad dropped mom and me off at the hotel with the luggage and then began the process of making four immediate left turns around the block to get to the parking deck directly behind the hotel on a one-way street.
Being the country folk that we are, some of the "rules of the road" in big metropolitan areas were foreign to us. This included, for my dad, driving while talking on the cell phone. Now forget for a moment that he DOES have a bluetooth headset, has driven in Washington D.C. where the rule also applies, and that he was simply calling my mother to tell her to go ahead and check in (which we were already doing), and just remember that NYC is chaotic and can be flustering at times. Enter NYPD's finest stage left. Dad's smooth salesmanship skills got him out of getting a double whammy ticket of both 1)no seat belt on and 2)driving while talking on the phone, but he was still hit with #2.
To make matters worse was the fact that when he rolled the window down to address the officer, the window took that opportune moment to malfunction and the glass almost completely sank into it's slot between the door paneling. After receiving his fineable offense documentation, dad had to park our car, which had a broken window, in a parking deck in NYC. Luckily he was able to manhandle the glass to get it back up to at least look fully functional only to leave it for us to worry about on the trip back home.
That started the trip off on a rough, yet somewhat comical rhythm that persistent until we got back to Tennessee. Intermittent to the comedy was the phenomenal cuisine we took in every day. We had great fish, great Italian, and a fantastic yet uncustomary Thanksgiving dinner. One of our servers was quick to point out that we must be from the south after I said something at the table. Taken back, since I believe I don't sound that southern at all, I questioned how she knew we were from God's country (that's right, I said it). Apparently I had said "y'all" and she got a kick out of that. It was odd to me, something so natural to say that it has become a staple of my everyday vernacular could be pinpointed and labeled so quickly by a stranger.
After visiting my brother at his place of work and seeing where he does...whatever it is that he does, I decided this was our first photo opp. I took pictures of him in his natural element- looking at six different computer screens all with different info on it and deciphering the data to make meaningful decisions that ultimately makes money for his company. I had to get in on that action...so we took pictures of me at the desk looking like I would if I had his job. Needless to say stupefied doesn't quite do justice to my look.
On the way down the elevator in this lovely place of New York professionalism, one person in our party created yet another hilarious moment. While I won't say his name to protect both his pride and his identity, I will say that this instance proves that the street smart intelligence I received was maternal (love you dad). Standing more than two feet from the wall of the downward moving elevator, this person must have thought the wall was literally right behind them and as if in slow motion began to gently rock back on his heels expected the sturdy wood paneling behind him to act as a casual lean-to during the brief 8-floor decent. Eventually gravity took hold and introduced this nameless person to the realization that the wall he expected to be directly behind him was a good two feet away, and when he hit, the elevator shook side to side violently enough to make a blind person believe an earthquake hit a 5 on the richter scale.
A cloud of dust that had been hibernating behind the wood paneling was released into the elevator's small space. After gathering ourselves from concern at first then harmonious laughter, the Smalling family exited the elevator whistling a peppy tune as to avoid any suspicion from the non-existent spectators of the building's lobby.
Mom and I got to see the Broadway Musical "Promises, Promises" which was great. Molly Shannon was a hit in the show and Sean Hayes must have been ad libbing something fierce because he obviously caught two of his co-stars completely by surprise with a few lines. The whole family went to see the Rockette's Christmas Spectacular in Radio City Music Hall. It was very well done, but what took me by surprise was the reverence paid to Jesus Christ. After 45 minutes of a show that had plenty of well choreographed dancing and a Santa Claus popping off about the "magic of Christmas," the last thing I expected to hear or see was anything about the birth of our Savior. Yet there it was, the end of the show, and a 14-year old boy read the story of Jesus being born to his younger brother and sister which lead into a living nativity scene complete with live sheep and camels. (Admittedly I was waiting for one of those creatures to do their business on stage...but apparently they are very well trained).
At a show in NYC that was as secular a venue as you can get with what I am sure was an audience full of every religion, doctrine, and ideology you could think of, I was taken back at the reverence and sincerity the show gave to the real reason we celebrate Christmas. It was truly great, and I wonder to this day how many of those people on stage performing in those scenes really believed in what they were demonstrating. I also wondered about the hundreds of children in the audience, many of which may have grown in homes that never paid any attention to the story of Jesus, and how they were responding to what was being presented to them. I can only hope that the Rockette's Christmas Spectacular somehow was used to the glory of God that day.
Sunday got there quickly, and mom, dad, and I were trying to quickly scarf down the hotel's free breakfast and get on the road before the major "heading home" traffic hit the highways. That really, REALLY didn't work out for us. We hit the road by 8:00 am, but dad's GPS was being less than helpful and we ended up in downtown Newark, NJ. It took us at least 30 minutes to go 8 miles on a road that had more stop lights than NYC has Starbucks. None of which had sensors and we were stopped by pretty much EVERY SINGLE RED LIGHT! We finally got back on the highway and off we went, for a while. We hit our first bit of traffic in Jersey, got through that, then hit traffic in Pennsylvania, got through that, then hit traffic in Virginia. Now when I say traffic, I'm talking stop for a couple of minutes- move 2 yards- stop for a few minutes again-type traffic. We didn't get back home until 11:30 that night. A nice little, 15+ hour trip.
Granted we stopped to eat and to find a store open on Sunday morning that had duck tape (remember the window problem). All in all it was an unforgettable experience with the 3 people I love most in the world. And since this may become an annual thing for us, I'm expecting many more stories to come. God help us if we ever decide to go overseas. :)
What I'm Into:
Movie- We saw "Love and Other Drugs" in NYC. It was very good. I enjoyed it thoroughly. Be warned, it's got a lot of sex and nudity in it and I DO NOT recommend watching it with your parents. However the acting was great, the story is interesting, and it really hits home for anyone who has a family member or friend that has suffered from Parkinson's.
Song- "New York, New York"- Ryan Adams. For obvious reasons. Plus it's catchy and not as cliche as other songs about The Big Apple. Interesting note: the video for his song was shot Sept. 7, 2001 and the twin towers stand prominently in the background to open the video...only 4 days later until every American's (and so many other's) world changed forever.
Bible Verse- 1 John 3:21-22 "Dear friends, if our conscience is clear, we can come to God with bold confidence. And we will receive whatever we request because we obey him and do the things that please him."
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