Take Me Home, Country Roads

Aunt Evelyn's famous 10 layer cake. Acres of farmland in the country. Twenty-something great-grandkids, all younger than me.These are the things I have listed off in the past week or so when describing my upcoming Thanksgiving with the Jordans, my Mom's Dad's side. Yet last night as I lay in bed thinking back over the past two days, I knew it was nothing but a paltry description of the event. I love my family, more than words can detail.

I usually spend Thanksgiving with my Dad's side, which is good...always an adventure, but good. This year, because I hadn't seen them all in a couple years, and missing the funeral of my great-aunt Earline earlier this semester left me miserable(Yes, Earline...she was named after her dad, Earl. Especially odd considering she had an older bother named Howard), I got to go see my beloved Jordans.

The food at this gathering is incredible. We arrived practically first, and my aunt Elsie (yeah...not a nickname, it's really Elsie) already had 13 things on the counter, plus the desserts in the other room and the things she kept pulling out of the fridge. I tried to take a picture of it all spread out once the rest arrived, but I couldn't fit it all into one shot. Desserts alone filled nearly two tables. It isn't just quantity that makes it impressive, however. It is the fact that every cake and casserole tastes award-winning. I think it is because it's all made with a lot of love...and a lot of calories.

If I were asked to paint a picture of God's love on earth, aside from the stereotypical(though appropriate) cross or empty tomb, I would paint a portrait of the Jordan family. They are such a beautiful personification of the depth and versatility of Christ's love. My grandfather was one of nine, and each one loves so well, but in such different ways. They will ask about your life, hug you and feed you, tease you about old adventures, and never sit down until you have all you desire, but not once will they needle you about not having a boyfriend, getting a few grey hairs, or losing that prestigious job. As my Mom said last night, nowhere else has she ever felt so unconditionally loved.

This week, I came home. Home to my parents, home to my Grandma's, home to the Jordans, but mostly home to God. Lately I'd been feeling pretty unloved by Him. Yet as I sat in bed at my Grandma's farm Thursday night, Bible before me, reflecting on the day, storing up the memories of sights and smells, I knew how utterly loved I was by my family. More than that, I knew how loved I am by God. The sweetness of the day was incredible, but it is a mere fraction of His tenderness for His children. That fact blows me away. It feels good to be home.

Pitter Patter, Rainy Day Bells...

Today has been a good day. Few things make me happier than a free meal in Lenoir with a lot of friends, especially when it includes Greg voraciously eating dirt with a giant stolen serving spoon. Many thanks to Caroline for swiping 7 stinkin' people. Freshmen rock.

And now for a little too much information:

I had a test this morning, and like any good college student, I had consumed a respectable amount of caffiene before heading to the library...and we know what that means. Now, it's no secret that the bathrooms of Davis are of questionable safety, but I plodded down the hall to the poorly located 1st floor girls' room anyhow.

As I was in the stall, someone else came in, and peed really loudly. Call it some sort of social anxiety disorder, but I decided I would stay in the stall until they left. I could see the person through the crack, and noticed they were oddly tall for a girl...in fact, they didn't look to be female at all. Slightly disturbed, but unsure if I should be, I waited until I heard the door open...and as I did, my bathroom buddy let out a cough...in a deep, bass voice! That's right, it was a guy. For a moment, I worried I had made the fatal error (I did it once in Murphey...hehe), but no, 'twas he who'd gone astray. I am pretty sure I spied the culprit at a computer after I left....and if my test grade isn't good, I'm blaming him!

Drawing a Blank

Last weekend, I told my parents I started a blog. Well, rather, I insulted my parents by asking them if they knew what a blog was, then said I had one. My Dad then asked "And...did you post anything beyond the first day?" Ouch. Way to know me too well, Dad.

As a result, I spent the first part of the week trying to think of something clever or entertaining to write. Clearly that didn't go so well. Eventually I did sit down and write, but close to the end, a power surge knocked my computer out, and all was lost! Maybe this blog thing isn't meant for me after all!

I Can't Get Started...

Well today certainly didn't go as planned. My intent was to blow this town as soon as class was over to get home for the weekend, as Silas is leaving Monday for nothing short of the Peace Corps, and I won't see him again until 2008. Despite how quickly it's nearing 2006, that is still an awfully long time, and I will miss my long-running friend tremendously.

In an effort to expedite the whole hit-the-road process, I drove to the front of the neighborhood this morning so I could just hop off the S bus and into my car. Something happened on the way though, and as I parked I heard a disturbing "hsssssss." Ohh you guessed it, I popped a tire. I missed 2 busses while talking to my dad about it, and when I finally made it to the bus stop, a passing car's hubcap came flying off and smacked me in the foot! It was like my dead tire's spirit had possessed the hubcap and sought to punish me for however it'd been wrongly abused.

Classes finished, I returned, and Nathanael, amazing friend of the week, sweetly (uh, I mean, very masculinely) came to change my tire for me. Go ahead and gag, feminists, but I'd never done it before. The lack of a flat surface made it a long process, but once the spare was on, we realized it was flat as well! I cautiously drove to the gas station across the street for air, but wouldn't you know it, the air pump was broken!! A tow truck was promptly called. However, it did not promptly arrive. Nathanael left at about 5:30, and the also amazing Lauren came to chill with me until it came. The entire ordeal wasn't done until about 7, but thank goodness for outstanding friends who will spend their Fridays behind a sketchy gas station with me!

So, here I still am in Chapel Hill, not doing the homework I have. Now I realize that was a tedious story, but you clicked on the link, so you have to deal with it. I will end on some random notes:

1) Have you ever heard Gwen Stefani talk? This is a 36 year old woman, yet she sounds like a 14 year old mall rat who isn't taking any AP classes, if you know what I mean.

2) THIS is Rainbow Brite -




















This is a shame -