A few days in Charleston: Episode One--Liar, liar.

Tuesday evening Andrew and I set out on a mid-week trip to Charleston, one, to spend time with my lovely sister, Jessica, and two, to pull off an epic surprising of my mother who was completely unawares of Jessica's imminent arrival.

First, we fleeced our own mother. We lied. Oh, man we told big fat falsifications and prevarications--by hook or by crook, we lied the whole two weeks before just to make sure Mama was totally in the dark.

Lie #1. Andrew had a meeting with WaterMissions on Wednesday, so we needed to come on Tuesday.
Lie #2. I had to work on Tuesday evening but they were going to let me off early, oh, around eight o'clock.
Lie #3. Jessica wasn't going to be able to come home this summer for lack of funds.

First, we made sure we had a mole planted on the inside to watch Mama's every move. The mole: my father. An ex-Army Seaman, this guy knows his stuff. The stealth factor is unlimited, not to mention his iron emotions when faced with probing questions.

Then we chatted with her, but no too often so as not to cause alarm or suspicion, and nonchalantly planted the "meeting with WMI" seed, noting a noncommittal day and time of the meeting, and reiterating the "we're not sure, but we'll let you know" right down to the last second.

Once we recovered Jessica's flight information via email reconnaissance, we launched Operation No Jessica Left Behind and planned to use my retail job as a cover--a likely story--so that we were unable to get home until around 12:30.

Mama's clock put us getting home late, when in actuality we would arrive at the Charleston International Airport just in time to meet Jessica at midnight, gather her belongings and arrive when Mama expected us. We hmmed and hawwed via text message about the "traffic" and our "arrival time", but in reality, we had left a little after seven, stopped at Chic-fil-a to pick up rations, and were on our way much earlier than expected.

When we walked in the front door, as expected, Mama was a-snoozin' in the bed, but Daddy was posted on lookout by the computer monitoring system he had rigged up using his MacGyver-Army training picked up back in 'Nam. Jessica military crawled it into the dining room as Mama sleepily came down the stairs. Andrew and I hugged and kissed all around and when we were about to head into the kitchen, BOOM! Jessica pounced on Mama like a cat on a mouse! You shoulda seen my mother's face! PRICELESS. Jaw to the floor, bug-eyed, and totally agog. (AGOG--look that one up and put it in your word bank. Cha-ching!)

Ah, sweet success. And that was only the beginning.

Levi Strauss, put 'er there.

What do you think of when you hear the word "Levi's"? Do you think "mom jeans"? or cool name for a hipster kid? or a Biblical tribe? Well, think no further--I'm talking about Levi Strauss & Co., making denim look good since 1873. Levi Strauss, a German-Jewish immigrant to America, started his company in San Francisco, CA in 1853 selling dry goods (fabric, clothing, combs, purses, hankerchiefs, etc) at his store, Levi Strauss & Co. Obviously since San Fran was the hub of the California Gold Rush, he was in a fine geographical location to make a pretty penny helping all those miners get outfitted for their forays into the wild unknown. Jacob Davis, a tailor out of Reno, Nevada, approached Strauss with a business deal: he wanted to make men's work pants "with metal points of strain for greater strength" and wanted to use the fabric that Strauss sold wholesale, as well as to make Strauss his business partner. In 1873 they received US Patent #139121 for using copper rivets to make the pockets of denim work pants stronger. They began manufacturing "jeans" and the rest, as they say, is history. In the LS&Co. archives in San Francisco they house hundreds of garments from just about every time period, (including the "XX", the oldest pair of 501 jeans in the world, circa 1879). There are also letters to the company from people like Cary Grant, Ronald Reagan, Lady Bird Johnson, Clint Eastwood, Henry Kissinger, and a cowboy from the silent movies--William S. Hart. Back in the day, they also didn't call 'em jeans they called 'em "waist overalls". Ha! You can read more about Levi Strauss & Co.'s rich American heritage by visiting their website.

So, why am I giving you a history lesson? Well, it just so happens that one of my friends is a FINALIST in a contest to be the face and the voice and the, er, "click" of Levi Women's online presence in social media: Meghan Ellie Smith. The contest is to be the next "Levi's Girl", someone who is "socially minded, culturally connected, and will best represent the Levi's Brand". Meghan is all those things and more--she is an incredible artist, a daring fashionista--even when she doesn't try --and she lives in Brooklyn, NY and goes to school at the Fashion Institute of Technology. Y'know, FIT? Yah. Meghan was born and bred in the deep south and now she kicks it with her urbanite pals in the Big City. When she's not in school, she's either painting or frolicking around the subway, streets, or parks making video montages and uploading them to her hilarious blog, Antlered Pigeons.

HERE'S WHAT YOU NEED TO DO. Go to FACEBOOK and search Levi's. Then go to the company page, follow the link to vote, watch Meghan's stand-out video and VOTE FOR HER. You can vote once a day, every day, until July 15th. I'm going to do it. You should, too.



If you can't follow all that clicking mumbo jumbo, here's the link.

Who puts the "G" in ROY G. BIV?

I do! If you don't know what I'm talking about, you should probably track down your fifth grade science teacher. (I'm sure he's on facebook, so it should be a snap.) So, the "G" stands for greeeeeeen and even though I've already done a "going green" post (about switching to green household cleaners) I read a blog post this weekend by a girl I went to high school with about the amount of plastic trash she picked up on the beach during a surfing "sesh" in California where she lives. Long story short, the slogan litter trashes everyone finally got through my thick skull. Now, I was raised a tree hugger--my parents recycle everything, they compost, grow their own vegetables and other sundry foods--but now that I'm an adult and very mature ;) I decided to take one more baby step towards doing my part to save this planet from choking on it's own discarded shiitake, pardon my Japanese. I purchased (for $0.99 each) five reusable totes from Harris Teeter. One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind, right? Right. And, BONUS, when they wear out, you take them back to Harris Teeter and they replace them fo' free!



(I know, who takes pictures of their groceries? I'm trying to create visual interest here, people. Sheesh.)

"Going green" has definitely become trendy--kind of like celebrity philanthropical endeavors--but it's a trend I'm happy to hop on board with--I think because--unlike tights, platform stilettos, bib necklaces, mismatching patterns, coral lipstick, and mauve nail polish--it's benefiting others and not just the proprietor, -er the tote toter. And, hey, it might actually have some staying power. I hope so.

The reason I rushed out and bought reusable grocery bags is because plastic (not just bags) is one of the major perpetrators (80%!!!) of ocrean litter--one of them being a giant floating trash island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Growing up on the coast, I just remember as a teenager going to the beach every other day--or every day-- in the summer and seeing people leaving their solo cups, water bottles, Chick-fil-a cups, or whatever in the sand as they gathered up their towels and beach chairs to head back to the beach house. Or seen someone literally watch their empty cup, can, plastic bag tumble down the beach in the wind and not even move a muscle to retrieve it. Just because you're on vacation doesn't mean you get to take leave of your senses, people! Gah! As the tide rises it inevitably sweeps all that trash out into the ocean for any of the sealife to mistake it for a tasty meal. How would you feel if you sat down to tuna tartare and moments too late realised it was trash tartare? Not cool, humans. Not cool. Epic FAIL.

BUT. Now is the time to redeem ourselves. Ever heard the saying many hands make light work? Well, it's true. Everyone can do their part to lighten our planet's load and preserve the beauty of God's creation for present and future generations. Do it. You know you want to.

The Saturday Morning Post

This whole week went by without me writing so much as a single, durn thing. Sorry 'bout that. Trust me though, you probably wouldn't have wanted to read about it anyway. Booooooo-riiiiiing. Yes. Except 24 on Monday night. OHMYGOSH. And that's all I'll say.

This week, Andrew had to get all shot up for his stint in Haiti this summer--oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. Andrew's going to Haiti this summer with Water Missions International--


WMI - Haiti from Water Missions.

saving the world one cool drink of water at a time. Anyway, he had to go to the clinic and receive no less than five shots, three in one arm, two in the other: Hepatitis A, Typhoid, Diphtheria Tetanus & Pertussis (DTap), seasonal flu, and H1N1. And we're probably lookin' at Malaria meds and maybe some "just in case" antibiotics--just "get the prescription filled and take it with you in case you get sick" kind of meds. (DO NOT EVER TAKE ANTIBIOTICS UNLESS YOU HAVE PROOF POSITIVE THAT YOU NEED THEM. ALWAYS ASK THE DOCTOR FOR A CULTURE BEFORE TAKING ANTIBIOTICS. If you do not indeed have a bacterial infection and you do take antibiotics, you will just be aiding and abetting "super bugs" and drug-resistant bacteria for future generations.) Ahem. And that's my RN soap box for the day. Anyway. The nurse who administered the vaccines gave Andrew one giant band-aid for each injection. Thus he proudly displayed his bandaged arms for two days. And like any good wife would, I forced him to pose for a picture. :)

In other news, I went to a jewelry party at my dear friend Abby's house on Thursday. Her mom makes amazing jewelry out of clay--I know, you're thinking, "clay? wouldn't that be heavy and clunky?"--it's not. It's beautiful and delicate and unique. Anyhow, Abby's house got burgled on Tuesday night, bringing back some memories from the ol' college days at the Ridge. Laptop lifting walk-through, anyone?? Word to the wise. When you're not at home, hide your laptop. Shove it under the couch, the bed--anywhere it's not in sight. You and your lifetime's stash of pictures will thank me later. Anyway, Abby made a slew of delicious dips and hors d'oeuvres--including Pioneer Woman's Bacon Wrapped Jalapeno Thingies--her name, not mine. ;)

Photograph from PW. Delectable, finger-lickin' recipe found here.
Any they were good. Really good.

Last night we had ourselves a little mini date--and quite fittingly went to see Tina Fey and Steve Carell in Date Night.

It was seriously hilarious. I had a laughter induced headache when we left. I'm not kidding. I took two Ibuprofen. The plot is kind of so-so, honestly, but they did a lot of improvisation, which you know Steve and Tina are just sooooo good at! It was worth the out-takes in the credits alone! Watch the trailor here. And go see it.

As Porky would say: Abadee, abadee, abadee--That's all folks!

Water for Haiti

Haiti: the word on every news anchor's lips. Our first reaction is to keep our eyes trained on the TV and shake our heads in awe. It seems to be a hopeless situation. As we speak, however, God's hands and feet are deploying to this island nation to bring aid, medical care, food, and clean water. Just because we sit in the comfort of our homes here in America in no way means that we are helpless to help! One way to majorly impact emergency operations is to help provide clean water--clean water for drinking, washing, cooking, and medical usage. Clean and safe water will be imperative for survival in these first days and weeks and months of rescue. As Andrew's passion and area of study is clean water in developing nations, I can't help but highlight Water Missions International, a non-profit based in Charleston, SC that has already deployed a team of rescue workers and multiple water treatment systems to battered and bleeding Haiti. Every little bit helps--after the tsunami in Sri Lanka, Americans gave over 2 billion dollars with the average donation being around $56. That's totally do-able! So, instead of a trip to Starbucks or the nail salon, please donate to WMI and help our neighbors to the South in their hour of greatest need.

Find a tree and put it in your house

November First. First November, then December! Today, is el Dia de los Muertos for Latin America--the Day of the Dead, literally--a day to remember and honor friends and loved ones that have passed away. You can find out more information about this holy day of our Hispanic neighbors to the south here. What a mosaic world we live in.

So, Andrew and I have re-discovered a favorite family past time: Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. Yep, Jane Seymour, Gerber baby extraordinaire, has found her way back to our TV screen and back into our hearts. Let me just say--although no one is quite as smokin' hot as my one and only--Sully. is. fiiiiiine. He lives with the Indians. Basically, if you've never let your imagination go with this family-friendly TV series, you're missing out. It's set in Colorado Springs in the 1800s (think General Custer, Civil War era, etc.) and Dr. Michaela Quinn is an unmarried, female physician that moves to this quaint little settlement to be the town doctor. Of course, the drama unfolds because she's a woman, she's alone, she's a high falutin Bostonian--you get the picture. In the pilot episode, she is bequeathed three children (Matthew, Colleen, and Brian) by a woman on her deathbed, and of course, Sully, the Indian outlaw, begins to notice her and romance blooms, unbeknownst to them. There's medical drama, cowboys and Indians drama, love drama--it's just great! Way better than the OC or One Tree Hill or any other mindless "drama" series today. All's I'm sayin'.

Saturday morning, we drove over to an area of Raleigh called South Park, a neighborhood rife with poverty, gang violence, prostitution, and heavy drug activity to participate in a "Love Feast", a name aptly given to this outpouring of our abundant resources--God's abundant resources--to the community there. We had hamburgers, hot dogs, cole slaw, potato salad, birthday cakes, chips, fruit, candy and more to serve up to the people who live in South Park. We took any extra winter clothes, blankets, shoes, etc. to give away to anyone who had need. We put our nerves behind us and prayed for anyone who would let us, and most were very willing to receive prayer. It was an interesting, awkward, fun, sad, uncomfortable, natural, heartbreaking, heavenly, faith-building experience, one that I hope, I pray will show up repeatedly in the timeline of my lifetime. It is the Church's responsibility to care for this poor, hurting, broken world. And we don't have to go to Africa to do it. It is my responsibility to feed, clothe, pray for the neighborhoods around me that are quite easily and readily (might I say, thankfully?) driven by, detoured around, shied away from. And in my limited, novice experience, I really believe that in these communities respect and trust come with consistency. A church cannot do a drive by at Christmas or Thanksgiving--these people are hungry and naked more than twice a year. Lord, put a burr under my saddle, that I may never feel okay not helping those who need it. Make me uncomfortable in my comfort, that I may be a laid down lover of Jesus Christ, and his little lost lambs.



Saturday evening was an entirely different scenario. It was Halloween, All Hallows Eve, (there's a connection to el Dia de los Muertos there), and Andrew and I went to a "costume optional" party at David Goodman's for mostly Summit Church people that had previously been helping out with their kids' Fall Festival type deal. So, anyway, some people were dressed up--and by dressed up I mean they wore jeans, a flannel shirt, and a cowboy hat--but Andrew and I were dressed up. In some languages, "dressed up" also translates to embarrassed, mortified, snickered at. We were Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. Never mind that Babe, in fact, was male, let's just talk about the fact that I had viking horns glued to a blue kids' headband that made the clearance of my upper half about three times wider than it is naturally. Yeah, I stabbed a guy in the jugular with one of my horns trying to get something to drink. I also had a cowbell roughly the size of my head around my neck that actually made noise--lots of it. Eventually I took it off because, let's face it--it was hard to walk and could even be heard above the din of people playing NERTS or exclaiming over the hot cider. My poor, dear, sweetie-peetie-poo-poo Andrew was wearing a waffle shirt, a flannel shirt, Carhart pants, snow boots, and a beanie--not to mention the frying pan and hatchet! He was sweating like a dog, but totally looked the part. Hey, go big or go home, right? Do it right or don't do it at all, folks.

It just so happens that I pushed pause on this creative query into my weekend happenings and spent a moment in time with a precious sister and her lovely boyfriend: Lauren and Eric. They were just a-passing through, on their way back to Clemson, but wanted to stop for a quick hello and a bit of leftover Halloween candy. It is refreshing to see familiar faces--ones so dear, at that--in my neck of the woods. What a blessing.

A tree in my house: So, my tentative plan is to get a Christmas tree the weekend after Thanksgiving, the first weekend in December. I will say that usually I would like to get a tree on Thanksgiving weekend, but we'll be out of town visiting the fam. I'm just lettin' y'all know so no one loses sleep. Don't worry.

A praise report: I am ecstatic to announce the long awaited and much prayed for engagement of Jamie Blackwell to Kent Orr!!