Life-Changing Moments

We talk all the time about life-changing moments.  How this or that changed our lives.  I think that honestly, there are very few moments that truly, literally change your life--those moments that you can really point to and say that your life was wholly different before those seconds than it ever was again after. 

9 years ago on this day, one of those moments--one phone call--changed mine.  9 years ago tomorrow, the same nightmare happened again.  Two days.  Two phone calls. Two car accidents.  Two friends.  Gone forever. 

I could tell you exactly where I was when those calls happened.  I can still remember the ringtone on my phone, and walking in circles on campus not knowing where to go, and College Roomie slamming her bedroom door after I answered her question, "Is it true?"  I remember someone cancelling my birthday party and Captain Don coming over to just sit on the couch in silence and NM Animal House Boy cooking dinner.  And then, later that week, I remember saying goodbye.  The caskets and tears and music.

But mostly, I remember my friends.  Boys who were funny and kind and handsome and sweet and pulled great jokes and made me smile.  They made my life better.  And losing them broke my heart.  The world is not the same without them in it.  My life is not the same without them in it.  And today in addition to the pain, I feel gratitude for the effect they had on me and on so many others.

New Roomie's Birthday Request

“How strange that the nature of life is change, yet the nature of human beings is to resist change. And how ironic that the difficult times we fear might ruin us are the very ones that can break us open and help us blossom into who we were meant to be.” ~Elizabeth Lesser

Today is New Roomie's birthday.  She's turning 24.  (And she should seriously start a blog, but she's too busy doing Engineering math homework that literally has so many letters, her friend thought it was German homework.)

Me and New Roomie with BFF and Mr. FFA

Obviously knowing that I can't cook and am completely uncrafty, she didn't ask me to bake a cake or make her anything from paper mache.  She did, however, ask if I would write a letter with advice to myself at 24.  Well seeing as how I seriously love doing these kind of letters and 24 was not an age I've done yet (I previously have posted letters to myself at 16, 18, and 20), she's getting her birthday request.  The fact that she now is in a similar place in her life as I was at 24 (in graduate school, single, had a great college experience, great friends and family, etc), hopefully the advice I'd give to myself will prove useful to her as well.


Dear 24-year-old-Tiffany,

This chapter in your life, in many ways, is one of transition.  You've closed the book on your college chapter, although you couldn't imagine leaving that place and those people behind.  You've settled into your new home and new chapter, although there were times when you couldn't imagine ever being comfortable here.  You've let go of the fear and uncertainty that comes with something new and now have settled into a routine.  As you go forward, here are a few bits of advice.

Me and the girls circa age 24

Slow down and appreciate the now.  It's easy to look at a chapter of transition as something to just get through--eyes on the next goal, the cap and gown and the new job and the (hopefully large) paycheck those things will bring.  And similarly, it's easy to compare the chapter of transition to the past to which it can never live up.  But there is value, real value, in this in between where you now live.  Soak that in.  Appreciate the things that you have the chance to learn and see and hear and experience.  The truth is, the future may not be exactly what you have pictured and you probably only remember the best parts of the past.  Don't be so busy looking forward or looking back that you miss out on the good that is now.

Believe that love will find you.  I know that it's hard to believe this.  I know you feel alone and unlovable and like you'll never be good enough.  And what's worse?  You feel like the only one.  Your fridge is covered in wedding invitations and baby announcements and it feels as though every other girl on the planet has the things that you long for.  I'm no expert in spiritual warfare, but I'm about 99% sure that these feelings are what the devil uses to get in your head and screw you up.  You have to believe that love will find you.  Ignore all of the stupid people and their stupid comments that make you feel inferior, try to suppress your urge to smack the next person who says "you'll find him when you stop looking," and don't let your own doubt take over.  It's going to take time (more than you want) and it's going to be hard (harder than you want), but it's going to be worth it (more than you imagine).  Oh, and if you don't believe me, the Randy Rogers says that love finds you, so there ya go.

Really learn something in your classes.  You understand how to play the game as it is, meaning that you know how to ace a test.  But later in your life, you'll wish that you had taken the time and put in the effort to really learn the material, to remember it and think about applying it and really retain the information that you are given.  I'm not sure the best way to do that, but if you can figure it out, you'll be miles ahead in the future.

Take the time to get to know the people around you.  Law school has placed so many amazing people in your path.  People who are smart and passionate and driven and brilliant.  People whom you likely never would have met had you not been in this very place.  Don't get so caught up in the stress of school---the outlines and the tests and the opening argument---that you miss getting to know the people.  And don't let the competitiveness that people assume has to come with the territory take over your life.  You will leave law school with friends of different races, cultures, backgrounds, religions, you name it.  You'll be in their weddings and hold their babies and celebrate in their joys and cry in their grief.  And one day, you'll realize that the people you met were worth more than any letter on a report card.  Heck, thanks to you College Roomie marries one of these people of whom you speak.  She'll vouch for this one.

Take chances.  Apply for job at the high powered law firm that no one believes you can get.  And when you get it, live it up.  Take the vacation.  Plan the post-bar trip.  See the Sistine chapel and snorkel in Mexico and do the things that you only dream about right now.  Follow your heart.  Find out who you are.  Volunteer.  Take risks.  Discover where it is that you can feel God's presence.  Do great things.  That's what you're here for.  Ships weren't made for the harbor and all of that jazz.

Most of all...enjoy the ride,

Tiffany at 29 (I still technically have 2 days 'til 30)

P.S.--New Roomie, ignore my BFF.  Move that salt shaker.

Notre Dame Through Uncle Buddy's Eyes

"Whenever I go to Notre Dame, it gives me a warm feeling of faith in humankind. Everything that's good and decent and fair is right there on that campus--I can feel it in the air."  ~Regis Philbin

Back in September, Uncle Buddy (known to you all as Uncle Black Belt) and I went on a little adventure to South Bend, Indiana, to watch a Notre Dame football game.  This was my third trip to Notre Dame and I've got to tell you, there's just nothing like it.  But since you've heard about these trips from me before (here and here), I wanted you to get to hear about the trip from Uncle Buddy's perspective.  So here's a look at Notre Dame through his eyes.

A Visit to Notre Dame

What a ride.  In September, my niece and I attended a college football game at the University of Notre Dame.  What an experience and a fulfillment of a life-long dream.  We both flew into Chicago, arriving about the same time, went to get our motel and get ready for the next day's activities.  It was a wasted night as very little sleep came due to the excitement of what lay ahead.

The next morning we went to this little café in Chicago where they served pancakes with all kinds of stuff in them....fruit, chocolate, etc.  (Bongo Room, for those of you visiting Chicago in the future.)  Mine tasted very good, but had I known what was in it, I probably wouldn't have ordered it.  The best thing about our breakfast was that I got to meet my  new niece, Rozann (aka ND Friend on this blog), and welcome her to my family.

The nieces at breakfast.

Best pancakes ever.  Bongo Room.  On Wabash.  Go.  Trust me.

After breakfast, Tiffany and I headed to South Bend and the University of Notre Dame.  (We made a quick detour so I could check Michigan off my list of states I've been to.....these pictures combined with Uncle Buddy's facebook post of "How did we end up in Michigan?  Tiffany was driving!" caused some concern amongst family members back home.) 

First stop was the Hammes Notre Dame Bookstore.  I entered thinking about buying a couple of t-shirts for my children and grandchildren.  A couple hundred collars later, I was able to leave that bookstore, but I tell you, it was an amazing place.  (In my experience you might as well just open your wallet and fork over $200 bucks if you set foot in that building!)  The people I had met so far in my visit made me feel that I was part of this fine University. 

The Golden Dome

Tiffany and I put our purchases in the car and then took a walk around the campus.  First excitement was that I ran into the Notre Dame cheerleaders and Leprechaun, and of course, had my picture taken with them. 

He posted this on FB to let my aunt know he had found the cheerleaders!

Along our walk, we were stopped by one of the Alumni driving a golf cart around giving rides to whose who looked like they needed one.  Along the way, we got to talking and he served in Vietnam with the U.S. Navy.  (Uncle Buddy served in Vietnam as well and the reason we were offered the ride was that the guy saw his purple heart jacket.)

Trumpets Under the Dome

Touchdown Jesus

On Saturday, we met up with my new niece, Rozann, and her friend and walked over the campus while we waited for the football game to begin.  What a dream come true.  We had excellent seats, right up from where the team comes at the end of the game to sing their Alma Mater.

Pre-game group photo

Bagpipers on campus

Uncle Buddy and Rozann with First Down Moses



Game Time!

Uncle Buddy in the stadium.

Push ups after a TD

Uncle Buddy recording the Alma Mater

(But wait, kids, the fun wasn't over yet!)  Long story short, we were fortunate to be offered to take a tour of Notre Dame stadium on Sunday morning.  When this came about, Tiffany told me that I would probably have to pull her off the benches in the locker room if we got in there.  (I think what I said was that I might get so excited that I'd pass out...)  On Sunday morning, we met up with the head man for a stadium tour.  What excitement!  And, of course, Tiffany was standing on a stool giving the "Rudy" speech.

"We're gonna get 'em on the run, and we're gonna keep 'em on the run..."

Uncle Buddy in the locker room.

Win one for the Gipper plaque.

We then went to the field to through the tunnel where the players enter and got to slap the sign at the bottom of the stairs that reads, "Play Like a Champion Today." 

 

The field was magical.  To stand on that turf, closing your eyes, you could actually hear the greats.  Coaches like Knute Rockne, Frank Leahy, Ara Parseghian, Dan Devine, and Lou Holtz.  Players like The Four Horsemen (Stuhldreher, Crowley, Miller and Layden), Angleo Bertelli, George Gipp, Dave Casper, Joe Montana, Joe Theismann, Tim Brown, and Paul Hornung.  And if you listened very closely, you could hear the chant, "Rudy, Rudy, Rudy...."

Our tour guide.

A dream fulfilled thanks to my niece, Tiffany.  (There is nothing like taking someone to visit Notre Dame for the first time, especially when they have been a life-long fan like Uncle Buddy!)

On the field at ND Stadium

He's Never Run Through An Airport For Me

"He's never run through an airport for me.  But this ordinary, remarkable love walks slowly every day alongside."  ~Lisa Jo Baker

I'm going to confess it now.  I love a good romantic comedy.  The guy finds the girl that everyone else overlooked and sweeps her off her feet.  The girl has to chose between two equally great men and picks the underdog.  The girl hires a date to make her ex-boyfriend jealous and he rocks out halfway through the movie with the line, "I think I'd miss you even if we'd never met."  Sigh.

So when I stumbled across this blog called, "When you think your love story is boring," I was intrigued.  It's premised on a comment from a teenage girl who said that she would never be satisfied with her love life until the boy ran through an airport to stop her from getting on a flight.  And, so, Lisa Jo Baker set out to write an article that is premised on the admission, "He's never run through an airport for me...."

And several people have picked up on this idea and written their own versions.  So, when in Rome...

My version of He's Never Run Through The Airport For Me...

He's never run through an airport for me.  He never landed us on a stadium jumbotron or written me a poem or professed his love for me on a beach in the middle of a lightning storm.

But he listens when I rant or cry or when I'm so excited about something that I can't help but talking 100 miles a minute.  He encourages me and reminds me to have faith and has never told me to shut up when I need reassurance for the 157th time that someday this long distance thing will come to an end.

He's never run through an airport for me.  He's never sent three dozen roses to my office or taken me to Tiffany's or hit a home run off of a pitch from my ex boyfriend.

But he makes me feel safe and pretty and confident.  He believes in me and appreciates my input and supports the things that are important to me.  Instead of stopping me from getting on an airplane, he'd be telling me to go have the time of my life and that he'd see me when I got back.  Or driving two hours to rescue me when my plane almost crashed and I refused to stay on it.  (Yep.  That happened.)

He's never run through an airport for me.  He hasn't gotten my name tattooed on his arm,  he hasn't sang a song outside my window, and he hasn't scaled a fire escape after crawling out of a limo (I'm also not a hooker, which is a positive as well).

But he holds my hand.  And he kisses my forehead. And he has driven all night just to spend the weekend with me.  He actually enjoys spending time with my family and always makes me laugh and was cool with our first date being to an NRA banquet.  With my parents.  And a convicted felon (who I'm pretty sure wasn't legally supposed to be there...)

He's never run through an airport for me.  And you know, that's just fine by me.  

Because somehow, real life is turning out better than the movies.

Gran Said A Cuss Word!

“Maybe that's why the good Lord gave us these vivid memory capabilities. When stress hits, we can just close our eyes, lean back and relax, and enjoy a game of Tidly-Winks, the sound of a Pete Rose baseball card in the spokes of our bike, or maybe a nice slice of watermelon - with a sprinkle of salt.”  ~Michael Buffalo Smith

Today my friend Jen is hosting a link up called "Soul Food Friday" where people share whatever feeds their soul...go head over to her blog to read some great stories!

I've never really liked Halloween all that much.  Maybe because it steals my birthday thunder.  But there is one Halloween memory that always makes me smile.

Each year, Gran would make popcorn balls for Halloween.  I remember not really liking them that much because they were hard to chew and they hurt my teeth.  But man, was it fun to help with the cooking.

Cooking at Gran's was always an adventure.  She never used a recipe.  She just sort of eyeballed everything.  95% of the time there would be a timeout taken from cooking in order to play with candles and matches on the table (I think now that Gran may have been somewhat of a Pyro....).  And it was never quiet in the house during cooking.  If you were cooking in the early afternoon, Paul Harvey was on the radio; late afternoon, MASH was on tv; if later afternoon, Peter Jennings World News Tonight was playing in the background.  Oh, and it wasn't a complete stop at Gran's without a Kit-Kat mini out of the drawer in the fridge.

So with that scene set, let's move on to our story.

There we were.  Gran, Little Brother, and me, all gathered around the stove.  Gran and Little Brother on one side in the kitchen, and me kneeling on the bar on the other side of the stove.  First order of business was to pop the popcorn.  Gran didn't believe in microwaveable popcorn, so she heated up corn oil in an old silver pot.  Once it got hot, she would pour in the kernels and they would pop.  She had previously measured out the right amount of kernels and put them into a glass measuring cup sitting next to the stove.

When the grease was good at hot (and MASH was probably on a commercial), Gran reached for the measuring cup of kernels to pour them in.  One minor problem.  She grabbed her cup full of coffee rather than the cup of popcorn kernels.  And proceeded to pour that into the hot grease.

Next thing you know it's like an inferno in there--smoke everywhere, smells like fire, smoke detectors going off.  And in the midst of all this, you hear Gran yell, "Damn!"  At that cue, I headed out the front door and started screaming for my dad, who had been working at the shop.  Did I tell him the house was filled with smoke?  Nope.  That the smoke detector wouldn't stop going off?  Nope.  That there may be a fire?  Nope?  What did I yell?  "GRAN SAID A CUSS WORD!  GRAN SAID A CUSS WORD!"

A minor grease fire and the house potentially burning down, I was cool with.  But Gran saying a cuss word?  Heck no, things were NOT okay!

It's probably been 23 years since I left the house screaming about Gran saying a cuss word, but I remember it like it was yesterday.  Those kind of moments--those kind of memories--are what life's about.

She Loved Life...

My 30 Things List: Part 6

Here we are....the last items on my list of 30 things every woman should know and have by the time she is 30.  Next week I'll post a blog with the complete list in one place, but for now, here are the last items!

Every woman should know...

How to do something by herself, be it dinner, a movie, a trip or a wedding.  I suppose that my ability to do this and my ability to understand why this is important comes from the fact that I'm one week (and two days) from turning 30 and I'm not married.  I learned pretty quickly in my 20's that if I wanted to do things, I had to learn to do them by myself.  I couldn't wait for a boy to ask me to the movies because, well, it would be out of the theater and off of Red Box before that happened.  So, I went by myself.  One such event I will never forget was on Valentine's Day.  I went alone to see, "The Vow."  And offered the nice young couple sitting next to me some of the dried fruit I smuggled in.  Yep.  I'm that lady.  "Hey, sonny, do you kiddos want some of my dried cherries?"  And you know what?  I survived.  I also survived traveling the world by myself.  And I have even become a bit of an expert at flying solo at weddings (the ultimate insult to a girl's psyche).  But until you're comfortable with yourself, and confident enough to do these things on your own, I question whether you're ready to be with someone else.

The difference between a great opportunity and the right opportunity.  Oh, this is a doozy. A country song has a line I love that says, "I'm chasing what they say's a dream, thinkin' maybe it ain't mine."  Bam.  Bingo.  That's what I'm saying.  Sometimes, great chances come up.  A job posting.  A boy who looks great on paper.  A fun trip.  And even though it is a great opportunity, that doesn't make it the right opportunity for you.  I turned down a job that paid more money than I could have ever imagined at a top 25 law firm in my favorite city.  Was it a great opportunity?  Absolutely.  In the end, was it the right opportunity?  No.  And that' okay.

Who her true friends are.  Pretty self explanatory.  By the time a girl is 30, she has probably figured this out the hard way.  Life has  way of weeding out those friends who don't fall into this category.  And the ones that do fit the "true" definition?  Be thankful every day for them.

Every woman should have...

An item that connects her to her past.  Sometimes I think we are so busy focusing on where we're going, we forget to remember and be thankful for where we've been.  And that is why I think it's so important to have an item that reminds you of your past.  It doesn't matter what it is--a picture of home or your grandma's pearls or a family heirloom.  Whatever it is, you need to have something that reminds you where you came from.  And the people who helped to get you to where you are today. 

Photo by Carrie Flanagan

Read one of "the classics."  Why, you ask?  According to The Godfather, you need to know this in order to make conversation on a first date.  And "To Kill a Mockingbird" is not an acceptable favorite classic book answer because he knows that you had to read it in high school and that doesn't count.  Don't shoot the messenger, talk to The Godfather.  Confession...I only aspire to this.  That's right.  I'm one week from the big 3-0 and I've still not read one of the classics.  I'm so sorry, Mom and The Godfather.  I'm a literature failure.  but don't give up, I'm going to get this done soon.  And thank goodness that the Boy from Texas talked football and guns instead of literature on our first date!

A go-to drink.  As with pretty much all of the items that start with "a go-to" the point of this is far less about the drink and far more about knowing yourself and being comfortable with that.  For example, I hate beer.  Can't stand the taste.  But man, I think a girl drinking a beer out of a bottle looks beyond cool.  So in my younger days, I used to try to choke one down in order to look cool.  Now?  Forget that.  I could care less about the cool factor and I order what I actually want to drink.

If you need a drink....Limey at The Penny.  Trust me.

Call Me John Stockton: A Proposal Story

"A bell is no bell 'til you ring it; a song is no song 'til you sing it; and love in your heart wasn’t put there to stay - Love isn’t love 'til you give it away."  ~ The Sound of Music

I'm like the John Stockton of proposal assists.  He's the all-time assist leader in the NBA.  I'm two for two on helping boys pop the question.  (If you missed the first proposal story about McCain and College Roomie, click here.)  Basically the same, me and John Stockton, I think.  Because the odds are that only two of my readers (BFF and Loud Oklahoma Girl) appreciate my circa-1990's basketball reference, allow me to move on to the proposal story.

Opie was Little Brother's best friend growing up.  Which meant he was basically like another little brother to me.  For years, there were 3 tooth brushes in our bathroom--mine, Little Brother's, and Opie's--because he was at our house so much.  We've sat together at funerals and celebrated graduations and danced at weddings and introduced Little Brother's retiring address and, well, pretty much everything in between.  My mother makes special meals when he will be around for dinner and his mother cornered The Boy from Texas and let him know that I was one of their kids too.  All this to say that Opie is pretty much family to me.  So when he told me he needed an assist with a marriage proposal, you better believe I was all over that.

And so we plotted for about four days.  The plan was that we'd go to Mass at 7:15 on Sunday and then I'd come up with some reason to stay near the church to do something for about 20 minutes, then get us back over to the church and inside where a photographer would be waiting and I'd sneak up into the balcony to snap a few photos from that angle as Opie got down on one knee.

And everything went off pretty much without a hitch.  We finished Mass and the bride-to-be asked me if I wanted to go with them to dinner.  I said yes but that I needed to run to Starbucks first.  So we walked over and I spent a crazy amount of time looking at the coffee cups while Opie went into the bathroom to kill time and text the photographer.  He came out and we just stood around talking and the poor girl got impatient.  She was hungry. 

Mrs. Opie:  "So are you buying something or not?" 
Me:  "Oh, no, I don't really like anything here."
Mrs. Opie:  "Well let's go then, I'm starving!"

We start walking back to the church to get our cars.  Problem is that the photographer hadn't given me the green light yet.  So Opie and I walk slow.  And I mean S-L-O-W.  Mrs. Opie is basically sprinting down the street.  I'm just rambling on about nothing asking about rent and apartments and all sorts of crap.  I finally get the green light and have to get us back to the church.

Me:  I have to go to the bathroom.  I can run into the church.  Let's go back over there.
Mrs. Opie:  We're going to a restaurant right now.
Me:  I can't wait that long.  There's a bathroom right in the back of the church.

And so we all walk in the church, I act like I'm going to the bathroom and then book it upstairs to the balcony.  And then this perfection happens.

This photo by Joellyn Rathmann (the professional photographer who captured it all!)

I couldn't be happier for these two and loved getting to get in on the proposal fun!

Every Person's Life

Family Farm Friday #85: The Best People

"If you take the cowboy out of society you are going to lose people with integrity and honor and heart and love for country. You're going to lose the best of America." CJ Hadley, Range Magazine

I know that I've written a lot about the ag community that I grew up in over the years.  Whether it be funerals or house fires or grass fires or sheep sales, ag people pull together to help each other.  I was reminded this week that the ag community isn't dependent on geography.  It's the same in New Mexico as it is in Illinois or in Tennessee or in California.  Here's an article about a community pulling together to honor a young farmer who died of cancer, leaving behind a wife and two little kids.  A beautiful tribute.

Ag people are ag people, wherever they may be.  And if you ask me, they're the best people.

Throwback Thursday #63: Homecoming in Stillwater

"Stillwater has a population of thousands, but is home to millions." 

Hallelujah, kids, it's Homecoming in Stillwater!  SO excited to be headed northbound 35 to meet up with 50,000 orange-clad faithful to celebrate our love for Oklahoma State.  In honor of this big event (which will also be The Boy from Texas' first time to attend the festivities!), I wanted to share a few photos of homecomings past.

I swear I don't know how he was ever that little!

Famous NY, NY kickline

 

 

Happy Homecoming and Go Pokes!!