An escape nonetheless

Vacation. The word typically evokes images of pristine beaches in exotic locales, but how many of us actually get to vacation to those places? For me, a perfect summer getaway is simply a week at the beach, whether it’s the ever-popular Outer Banks or small-but-charming Kure Beach near Wilmington.

This year, however, my family decided to change it up and spend a week in Valle Crucis, N.C., a small mountain community near Blowing Rock, Grandfather Mountain and Boone, home of Appalachian State University. When my parents first told me, I was more than a little disappointed to miss out on a week in the sun. But you can’t really complain too much when your parents are still treating you to a week’s vacation.

After a hellish week at work – the week before you leave is always the worst, trying to get everything done – I hit the road last Thursday and met my parents, my brother and my sister-in-law at a cozy little log cabin on the banks of the Watauga River. After a few days of rain, we started to feel a little confined, but we did what we could, including hiking up part of Grandfather Mountain to the mile-high swinging bridge during a break in the rain.

the mile-high bridge

I couldn’t help but feel a little like a fifth wheel in my own family, though, when we reached the top and everyone paired off for pictures, leaving me as the trusty photographer. Mom and Dad, my brother and his wife – all proud of completing the hike and wanting to share it with their spouse, while I, the single sister, documented it. Usually, I’m not bothered by stuff like this. But sometimes, it’s just impossible not to notice. “Want us to get a picture of you?” Sure, why wouldn’t I want a picture of myself, alone, at the top of a mountain? Whatever. I was proud, too, and I get along just fine on my own. Most of the time, anyway.

Sometimes I do let my bitter side come out for a bit. But I’m very quick to push it aside, because it’s completely useless to be bitter. About anything.

After a contemplative break atop Grandfather Mountain, and re-crossing the seemingly unstable bridge (which brought about more than one image of Indiana Jones strapping himself into that rope bridge in “The Temple of Doom”) we headed back down the mountain. Stepping back in time and into an old-timey general store for lunch, we celebrated rural North Carolina with bluegrass and barbecue. But, this wasn’t your grandpa’s bluegrass – the three young guys laughed as they picked and plucked a countrified version of ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” for a crowd.

Later that day we visited Linville Caverns, which are not as impressive as Luray, but impressive nonetheless. I had the urge to scream, “HEY YOU GUYYYYSSSSS!” while looking into a so-called bottomless pool, feeling a bit like the kids in “The Goonies” when they discover the pirate ship. What can I say? I’m a child of the ‘80s.

By Sunday, my brother and his wife had to head back home, leaving my parents and me to entertain ourselves until Thursday. We didn’t have a problem with that, though. We hiked one day to Linville Falls, and spent another day flying through the air at 50 mph on ziplines.

before the first zip

Mom was terrified, of course, but I was thoroughly impressed that she went through with it. With a stunning backdrop of healthy, green farmland and rolling hills at the base of the Blue Ridge, we zig-zagged down a series of four separate lines before starting back at the beginning for the super-zip. The super-zip was probably twice as long as any of the others, and ran three parallel lines so three people could go at once. I would’ve gone with my parents, but I went instead with a 13-year-old girl we befriended because her parents were too chicken to go at all. That last ride was by far the best, although I’m not sure you could tell a difference between the 13-year-old’s squeals and my own.

Our last full day I have opted to chill at the cabin and take advantage of some porch swing time to write while my parents explore another town. The lack of an Internet connection was refreshing, as I have lately found myself unnecessarily bound to the www. (I still brought my MacBook, though; you don’t need the Internet to write.) But after checking my e-mail at the local library, I found myself irritated at what I was missing out on back in Danville, news-wise. I may have missed a few good stories, but that’s the beauty of the news: there’s always more tomorrow.

The swing at the house had an irksome squeak, but over the week I grew accustomed to its rhythmic chatter. Sometimes you have to force yourself to slow down on vacations, and sometimes you simply fall right into the relaxed pace. Although, not everyone in the mountains is relaxed, like the almost-vicious territorial hummingbird that kept watch over his feeders, fighting off two other hungry hummingbirds. It was a daily drama we enjoyed watching from the squawking porch swing.

A week in the mountains may not be my ideal vacation – I still need some beach time before the season is over – but it refreshed me all the same. A vacation, whether it’s spent on the sand or soaking in the river in a black Goodyear inner tube, beer in hand, is an escape either way. An escape from my hairdryer, from my makeup, from stress and work and drama. And a much-needed chance to hang out with my family.

My escape ended abruptly when I headed to Richmond, though. But my college roommate’s wedding — three days of parties and celebrations — was absolutely fabulous. I can only hope mine will be just as perfect – from the marriage itself to the entire weekend.

The times they are a-changin’

I know that phrase is probably really overused. Sorry, Bob Dylan. But it’s just so darned true. In this case, I am referring to the fact that as of January 2010, my generation within my family will never be the same.

I am so elated to say that my sister-in-law is preggers and I will officially be an aunt come January. I am so excited I can’t even stand it.

But when I found out last month, I also had a realization: we have officially entered adulthood. Well, they have, at least. Never mind graduating college, or living on your own or getting married. But now? Damn. Now there’s going to be a new generation of my family and we are no longer the kids.

As we horsed around in the sound at Kill Devil Hills, laughing at each other and acting like a bunch of goofy kids, I almost got a little sad. Never again will we be this group of carefree siblings and in-laws, with little more than money or work to worry us. My brother will soon be a dad, and one day I’ll be telling my little niece or nephew about the happy-go-lucky times we used to have.

Don’t misunderstand me – I don’t mean to say that all fun will end when the baby is born. Quite the opposite, I’m sure. I simply mean that things will change, priorities will change. A while ago I came across some pictures of my aunt and uncle before they got married and I was still a toddler. And it’s so strange to think of them as carefree twenty-somethings, before the rest of their lives began. It’s strange because that’s where I am now, and I have no idea where the heck my life is going. And they probably didn’t either. It’s hard to put your aunts’, uncles’ or parents’ lives into perspective until you get to that point yourself.

I’m about to turn 24. When my mom was 24, she’d been married two years and had just given birth to my brother. That scares the shit out of me, to put it bluntly. Needless to say I am positively thrilled for my brother and his wife, but the truth is I am so grateful to be single and unattached. That may be the first time I’ve said that and actually meant it.

Because even though everyone always says it – “enjoy this time in your life because you’ll never have it again” – I always rolled my eyes. That was just their pity at my singleness. But they’re right.

With freedom may come loneliness, but with companionship comes restrictions. I am unattached, and this probably is the only time in my life I will be that free. I had this same realization a few months ago when I got laid off, but now I realize it even more. The problem is figuring out what to do with all this freedom and learning to really appreciate it while I have it.

For starters, I’m going to keep thinking of fun aunt names. Because who doesn’t adore their awesome Aunt ____?

“Is that POOP?”

“What, that?” I said. “No, that’s just where the paint has chipped off the door. That’s why it’s brown.”

“No, not that. THAT. On the ground. What is that?”

And there, sitting in a quiet, little unassuming pile in the corner of a door jam in my new (to me) apartment, was poop. It wasn’t small enough to be a mouse’s, and not big enough to be a dog’s. Instead it was a grouping of pellets, perhaps from a rabbit. I bent down and inspected the specimen. Without touching, of course.

Yep. It was definitely poop.

I grabbed a paper towel and scooped up the pile as my sister-in-law, disgusted, watched from afar. The poop was clearly old and crusty, which for some reason made me feel better. At least it wasn’t fresh, right? Because that means it’s at least been a while since a live animal of some sort was in my house, pooping.

Such was my introduction to my new home in a new city. Surprisingly, the droppings didn’t really bother me as much as they probably should have. I’ve come a long way in what I can handle. Losing my job? Near mental breakdown. Poop on the floor? Whatev.

Although that wasn’t the only issue upon moving in. Seems there was a slight miscommunication between the landlord and the utilities’ company last week, and I had power but no hot water. Let’s just say I wouldn’t need to join a gym if I kept up those ab workouts just trying to avoid frigid water spilling down my back in a shower that’s smaller than a cruise ship bathroom. Other than that, the apartment is fantastic. Cheap rent, new appliances and hardwood floors, all in a charming old house with enormous rooms and sky-high ceilings to boot.

So after the sub-freezing shower-induced headache subsided and my family headed back home, I was left with boxes to unpack and a life to start.

But without Internet, I felt incapable of doing hardly anything. I hadn’t checked my email in probably 36 hours, let alone stalked my friends on facebook. So after picking up some curtain rods at Target, I drove around the city in an attempt to find free WiFi. A phone call to The Artist (who did a little internet research for me) led me to the public wireless network downtown. Of course, being a Sunday evening, none of the municipal buildings was open. So instead I sat in my parked car outside the library with my laptop like a creeper as a handful of cars drove past. This is how I get things done.

No joke, there was totally a guy in the bar wearing this.

Now it’s Wednesday night and I have hot water, Internet, cable, a new cell phone (that was an entire ordeal in and of itself) and am beginning to settle in quite nicely. I even made a few friends last night after working a 13-hour day when one of the sports guys invited me out for a beer and a cheeseburger. The bar was smoky and the people were trashy (minus the tall, awkward guy dressed head-to-toe in what I can only guess was an authentic X-Men replica suit), but it totally beat eating alone. And I got to know two of my coworkers outside the office, who gave me the lowdown on office gossip. Though, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything particularly juicy. Damn.

So work is good, although I’m already swamped and feeling like I’m in over my head. I’m essentially doing the job I had in Culpeper, on top of covering two other beats. I guess being busy is better than being bored. Plus, the people are great and my boss is a riot. And there’s a young professionals mixer tomorrow night, which means an opportunity to meet more people.

I think I’ll be ok. As long as whatever left me the little present on my floor doesn’t show back up.

A trip to my happy place

After a luxuriously long weekend in Charlotte, I was overwhelmed by things I could blog about. Instead of a 14-page-long novella on the last few days, I’ve opted to instead write a post on things that make me happy. Obviously, this is not an exhaustive list, but simply a selection of what has recently left me satisfied and smiling. That’s what she said.

They may look ridiculous, but they sure are fun.

 

Smart Cars. If you’re ever having a bad day, just take a trip in one. Giggles and ridiculousness ensue. Therapists should recommend renting these things out by the hour as an alternative to anti-depressants. They’re just so silly; you can’t help but smile when you catch your reflection while driving one.  

New bras. Or just new underwear in general. But when you’ve lost about 15 pounds (depending on the scale…), the ladies need some new support. Let’s just say it’s been a while since I haven’t been able to fill out a bra. And a trip to Vicki’s (especially on Mom’s credit card) lifts more than your spirits.  

“That’s what she said” jokes. You know you’ve entered adulthood when you can make dirty jokes with your parents. ”Hurry up and put that in your mouth. I need your hands.” Also… ”His sword is bigger than yours.”

Old friends, new friends. It was great to catch up with my high school girlfriends, and awesome to realize I missed my Culpeper friends, too. I am truly blessed to have such amazing people in my life. 

Smokey Oats. Funny name, great preacher. Smokey, or “the breakfast cereal,” as my brother calls him, is serving as our church’s assistant priest until they find an interim. Always energetic, his sermons are worth listening to. He made a really good point Sunday when he said, “You can’t have Easter without Good Friday.” Nobody likes the Good Fridays of our lives, but we need them to truly appreciate the Easters. You’ve got to endure the worst before things get better. And believe me, things do get better. I promise. But you have to have faith. There’s a plan, even if you have no idea what it is yet. Keep the faith. 

People being excited to see you. Whether it’s seeing familiar faces in your hometown or meeting your possible future coworkers who are in desperate need of some extra help, it’s a great feeling when people are truly thrilled to see you. Who doesn’t love to feel loved and needed? 

G&Ts: refreshing and delicious.

 

G&Ts. Also, red wine. These are my two favorite drinks. There are others, but these are the classics. Looking forward to this summer when Dad will fix Mom and me our endless supply of gin & tonics — with extra lime, of course — despite the fact that he hates them. These are most often served during our week at the beach, although Mom and Dad are thinking of going to the mountains this summer instead. Not sure how I feel about that yet. 

Reimbursement checks from the DMV. Even if it’s only $16, it’s nice to get money back from the government. You just have to sell your car out of state after having just renewed the Virginia registration to get some of it back. Whatev. 

Getting over my fear of CiCi’s pizza. Not that I was ever really afraid of CiCi’s, but I ate at one for the first time Monday since being left at one in the 5th grade. I was at a birthday party and a friend and I were in the game room when the party upped and left, not realizing we weren’t with them. But I’m over it. Also, I don’t think I was missing anything having not been to a CiCi’s in nearly 15 years.

Azaleas. Or simply Charlotte in the springtime. The brilliant hues of blooming azalea bushes lining the streets and neighborhoods around the Queen City are stunning. I miss that; I have yet to see the magnitude of azalea blossoms elsewhere like those found in Charlotte. 

Deviled eggs. No explanation necessary.

An oldie but a goodie.

 

Old Spice. I don’t know what it is, but something about that scent is magnificent. Keep it simple, guys. It took me a while to figure out it was Old Spice I liked so much, but I finally got my answer when I recently ran into a guy I hung out with some last summer. Catching a whiff, I remembered how much it drove me nuts, and I had to ask him what he was wearing. I laughed when he confessed it was simply Old Spice I’d been pining for all this time.

Although I’m still a little perplexed as to why a pair of my pajama pants (that have been sitting clean and folded in a drawer for weeks) were steeped in the scent when I pulled them out last night. And it has nothing to do with that guy — or any other, for that matter. At least not as far as I’m aware. It’s possible someone is breaking into my apartment and wearing my clothes, then folding them up and putting them neatly away in my drawers. Weird. The mystery should probably bother me more than it does, but then I smell them and I don’t really care how they came to smell that way. 

Clean sheets. There are few things more comforting than crisp, clean sheets, especially when washed and folded with love. Although one thing better would have been for the sheets fairy to have magically made up my bed for me. That hasn’t happened since I left home. Funny how that works. 

Wegmans. A friend and I spent nearly three hours at Wegmans today. We decided we just wanted to get the heck out of Culpeper, and opted to go north. We ended up there after an overpriced lunch at a Tex-Mex grill in Gainsville, and spent the rest of the afternoon soaking up the grandeur that is Wegmans. I’d been twice before, but this was his first trip. He doubted at first, but quickly learned: never doubt Wegmans. 

From obscure beers to inexpensive Spanish reds, this store has it all. Not to mention the dining area, complete with an Asian bar, a gelato/coffee shop and a seafood restaurant. After thoroughly exploring all that the grocery area had to offer, we enjoyed a glass of red wine and some crab soup before a few scoops of cool mint chocolate gelato and rich coffee. Gym tomorrow, I promise. 

Ok, that’s enough for now. Happy hump day.

I always thought it was Monday Thursday

After a 5+ hour drive down U.S. 29 through some of God’s country (and some of hell’s traffic), I made it home to Charlotte this afternoon to celebrate Easter weekend with the fam. Being Maundy Thursday — although as a kid who didn’t think it was called “Monday Thursday”? — we headed to church for one of my favorite services before having our traditional dinner with my best friend’s family. 

I’m guessing most people don’t have Maundy Thursday traditions, but I think my parents invented this one a few years ago as an excuse to eat fried chicken with friends. Who doesn’t? So somehow it evolved into an annual thing with our families. Everyone meets at church and then heads to our house for some Bojangles’ (YUM) or BBQ. 

you know you're in the south when...

As an Episcopalian, our Maundy Thursday service has always struck a chord with me. As a child, I remembered it as the “cool service” when the clergy and acolytes strip the altar, leaving it barren and somber in preparation for Good Friday. As a teen, I served as an acolyte and always felt a strange sense of service while silently packing away the candles and crosses into the sacristy. And now, after having missed this service for the last five years (I know, I could just as easily have gone in Richmond or Culpeper, but I never did), I am reminded of why I looked forward this particular day during Holy Week. 

To avoid getting super religious, because that’s not my goal in the least, I will simply relay the simple but poignant message of this day: to serve one another, and in turn, love one another. That’s it. You don’t have to be a Christian to do that — and I know quite a few Christians who don’t, myself included. It’s a simple commandment, but a difficult one to follow.

We get so caught up in the petty, insignificant mishaps in our lives that most often could be resolved or avoided by simply stopping and reminding ourselves to love one another. But I don’t want to get preachy here, because let’s face it, I’m just as guilty of being petty and catty and judgmental as the next person. The truth is, being bitchy sometimes is just more fun. But where does it get you? 

Now, this service at my church — although beautiful — has gotten a little weird over the years and now includes getting your feet washed and washing others, if you so choose. It’s symbolic, I get it, but I always opt to sit tight and let others handle the footbaths. Although Mom and I are going for a pedi tomorrow — guess we could have gotten a quick one for free!

 

I googled pics of pedicures. This came back. Hopefully no one getting their feet washed showed up with these...

 

Aside from the white plastic water basins that look so out of place among the stained glass windows and wooden pews, the Maundy Thursday service is painfully beautiful. From the darkened, empty sanctuary to the soloist singing “Were you there when they crucified my Lord” (gets me every time), it’s hard to miss the message.

However, most kids have difficulty focusing, including the 7 or 8 year old boy a few rows up who spent a majority of the prayers facing the rear of the church making peace signs, gun gestures and wannabe gang symbols, completely unaware that my entire family was about to pee our pants watching him. Don’t think that that didn’t come up again later during the BBQ dinner, thanks to my best friend’s dad and a couple glasses of wine. Love our get-togethers. 

I’ll leave you with a verse from “The Servant Song,” which really resonated with me after the past month I’ve had and the unbelievable amount of support I’ve received. To everyone who’s been there for me in one way or another, know that I will always do the same for you.  

I will weep when you are weeping; when you laugh I’ll laugh with you. I will share your joy and sorrow ’til we’ve seen this journey through. 

So next time you’re ready to scream at the 72-year-old lady who just pulled out in front of you or your inept imbecile of a coworker who defies your every request (that’s clearly not an example of mine, as I am currently unemployed…), just remember what the preacher-man said: love one another.