There's something I should tell you.

I can't stand football.

This is a harder thing to admit than you might imagine. Football and the south are intertwined in a death grip that's sweeter than a lover's embrace. You saw Blindside, right? Where did that story take place? Yes, the south. These are my associations with football:

Grade school. The small private school I attended cut the music teacher to make more room in the budget for the football program.

High school. The most frightening bully I ever encountered was a football player. He rode my bus, and I lived in the country, so it was a long ride home. He entertained the bus with loud displays of simulated sex acts in the back of the vehicle. The rest of us would sit in awkward silence, thinking of raindrops on roses, while he wailed and screamed, writhing on top of some girl he had bent over a bench, pretending to rape her. He was an enormous, testosterone driven brute and he was never significantly reprimanded. He played ball at Clemson. He played pro ball for 3 NFL teams. He was a linebacker who shut down opposing tight ends and incurred personal fouls. He won a super bowl ring in '96. He has a wikipedia entry. He also crashed his Mercedes, rolling it several times, driving at top speeds in Missouri in 2002. I have often wondered if football hadn't been there to make him into a celebrity if someone would have taught him some self-restraint.

College. The freshmen in our dorm going out for football pushed girl's faces down in the snow, and one stole a girl's pet rabbit and skinned it with the blade from an ice skate. I think football players eventually got moved out of the general population to a sports dorm, just for them.

Football. I'll pass.

--Laura

Polar Bear and Spy Cams

When nature and technology collide.

And as we close 2010

Today is cold and rainy. I have a roast on the stove and a dog asleep with her head on my hip. The new park I found can be explored tomorrow when the rain has stopped. My thoughts turn, as I guess is traditional, to reflections on the past year. What can I say about 2010?
I've remained debt free. By August, I saved five grand. I completed 3 of the 25 items needed to ready myself for relocation. I could have done more, but changing the wiring in my house to accommodate the new ceiling fan set me back nearly a grand.
Meanwhile, some things didn't turn out so well, or didn't turn out at all. Emotionally speaking, I invested in someone I really cared for, at every level. He outgrew me. He apologized. I thought it was because he hated hurting someone he loved. I realized it was because he didn't love me, but hadn't wanted to hurt me. I thought he was My Person. Being wrong has officially been the hardest lesson of 2010.
Fair enough. I have spoken up and I don't need to again. Surprisingly, one big lesson I also learned this year came from a random comment made by a person who doesn't know my future plans. The comment was that focusing so much on where you are NOT just emphasizes the deficits in your life. I have done that often this year. Too often. The result was that I've felt anxious and defeated a lot this year too. There were other things I could have been doing. Like practicing birdwatching. Like hiking, camping and being outdoors. Like learning everything I can from park rangers. Like becoming someone I admire more before moving where I want to live, so when I get there I can take full advantage of my surroundings when I get there.
As the year winds down, I think the silver lining amidst a personally rocky year is that with so many personal goals accomplished, I can see more clearly. Eliminating debt has been important, but it wasn't the only thing holding me back. I've been waiting for ideal conditions. I'm a pretty careful person, so that's comfortable for me.
In 2011, I'm going to do it less.

--Laura

Picture of the day

Just because I love them.

Spotted (for the first time) in my front yard, drawn by the berries on the dogwood tree.

Outsourcing my research

Because I'm being a little lazy, and because I just love being mentioned in another person's blog, I'm including the link to an interesting episode of Observations about Longmont, Colorado.
I'm otherwise known as the out-of-town friend.
This blogger discovered a LOT more about this building than I had. It's an interesting slice of Longmont history.
My interest in this building stems from my hopeful venture in birding. Thing is, there would be challenges to owning a store in this building, which is probably why it's been vacant for so long. But I am drawn to it. There's a store nearby which could provide rental space for me, should I need space for crafty classes for children. It is near an art gallery which could provide adult-like space should I need it.
It has balconies, front and back.
It has ghosties. Yes, you heard me. It's allegedly haunted, with the sounds of ringing phones.
Who doesn't want a ghost?
I can only imagine the owners of the Hansen would be tickled pink to know about my fascination for their building.
P: Thanks for all the legwork. Great post!

---Laura

Hello winter

Wow, did you miss us?

The Delicate Center of Life

In the spirit of stating the obvious, life is hard. All around are examples of Broken Things. Broken dreams. Broken families. Broken minds and spirits. Broken promises. Broken hearts.
I struggle with a broken heart. There was a time when I gave my heart to someone who seemed to ask for it; seemed to want it. I gave him my heart freely and discovered my mistake too late. He has moved on, easily it seems to me, and now shares a roof with another woman. It costs me to admit this, because it is not easy for a strong, proud person to admit when they falter, but I have had a much harder time moving on myself, realizing that I was a disposable part of his life.
I share that place with you because I often write about the silver linings in hidden places. Truthfully though, sometimes you face something so completely out of your control that you break inside. You have to seal that break to keep going, but you always know it's there. It aches in bad weather. It makes you turn stations when certain songs play on the radio.
I am not sure how I would move past the Broken Things in my life without being able to focus on something higher than myself. Some call this God. For those who don't, there is a higher Common Good out there. There is humanity. There is "doing the right thing."
This evening, I indulged a yearly tradition at Emory University's Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols. It takes place each year in the university's chapel - a commemoration not only of creation, or of the creator, but an acknowledgement that we strive for that common good. The pastor phrased it beautifully - The delicate center of life. We believe that place exists. We pray for it. We sing of it. We share a vision of it with each other in the hopes that it will uplift those who most need it. People who, long ago or recently, sealed off a broken place in their heart to control the damage it did. Everyone who has lived a life has a few tombs hidden in the delicate center of their lives.
Every year, in that gathering space for both the finest of Atlanta's elite and the most ordinary of Atlanta's suburbanites, a safe haven is created. The room is dimmed. Candles are lit. Voices are raised. It is quietly powerful and wonderfully made. I hope the beauty of the evening seeped past all the hard, toughened places in people's hearts and reached the delicate center of their lives. I hope it reached into mine as well, and strengthened some of my own broken places.
My wish for all of you during this holiday season is that you encounter at least a moment that touches the delicate center in your life, and gives you peace, healing and rest.
-Laura

You should know this...

I love going to sweet concerts.
I do.

-Laura