Master Yoda married Princess Leah

I know it's not the story you are familiar with, but in my universe, Master Yoda married Princess Leah. And it was awesome.

After the whole cancelled flight deal, and eating out/shopping spree, the wedding week was finally upon us. Master Yoda and Princess Leah were getting married in at Auburn Christian Fellowship, which is a student building after all, and so there was a wee bit of cleaning to do. I spent a whole afternoon cleaning a chalkboard, and a whole other morning scrubbing dustboards. It was fun, though, and I was glad to be able to do some (literal) dirty work for my bro.

By Thursday evening, everything was done! Master Yoda, Princess Leah and I went out to eat with a gazillion members of the family on me and Yoda's side. Good, good times. It was so fun having them all together in one place, and getting to talk with everyone. On Friday, all the women headed to the Bridesmaids' luncheon. It was wonderful to have such a calm, relaxing day. It was also great for me to finally meet and get to know some of Princess Leah's closest friends.

That night was the rehearsal and then the rehearsal dinner. The rehearsal was fun, for certain. Right at the moment in the picture below it dawned on me...my baby brother was all grown up and GETTING MARRIED. As I watched him walk (pretend) down the aisle with Princess Leah on his arm, it all just sunk in. His whole life I'd thought about what kind of grown-up he'd be, what kind of job he'd end up getting, what kind of friends we'd be as we got older...but somehow I'd never thought about him being married. And then all of a sudden, there it was.
Saturday was a whirlwind of a day with getting ready, having photos taken, the ceremony, and then the reception. Before I knew it the day was over, and they were off on their honeymoon, and I was headed back to France.

Master Yoda and Princess Leah are one perfectly fit couple. She's perfect for him, he's perfect for her, and they just make sense together. I've always said my brother was awesome and I couldn't ask for a better brother. And now...I couldn't have asked for a better wife for him. I'm so thrilled to have a sister-in-law! (And by the way...she couldn't have been a prettier bride! She looked stunning, just stunning.)

Congratulations again, you two. I love ya both!!!

While in America...

Someone asked me what one who lives overseas does during a 10-day trip to the US. That's an easy one to respond to: EAT!!!

Five Guys Burger and Fries

Chick-fil-A (multiple times)

Jim n Nick's BBQ

California Pizza Kitchen

Cheesecake Factory (warning, if you click the hyper link, there is a slighty-scary receptionist ready to talk to you about the Cheesecake Factory. It's a little wierd, I'm not gonna lie.)

Mellow Mushroom

Mexican food (no link cause we went to some dive near Master Yoda's new apartment, and seriously...oh man...best enchiladas EVAH.)

Toomer's Lemonade

Mama Goldberg's Deli (twice!)

Jason's Deli

Cock of the Walk (good Southern heart attack on a tin plate)

Plus a bunch of good ole home cookin: pulled pork bbq, green bean casserole, peach cobbler, and of course, SWEET TEA.

During meals as well as in between meals, I hung out with Master Yoda, Princess Leah, Mom and Dad and cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents and just about every family member known to man. It was GOOD.

And oh yeah...there was a wedding! Lots of prep work for the wedding. Photos to come...some day.

California

I had too much fun in California to blog. Egads. Well, here are few bullet highlights.

When I booked my ticket from Alabama to California back in November, I never thought to (a) check the date of the college football championship game or (b) that Alabama would be in said game, which happens to be in, you know, California. So the night before my flight, dad and I were discussing what time to leave for the airport. Says me, "Well, it is Huntsville. There's never anyone there ever. We don't need to get there too early." We showed up, Dad dropped me off, and I walked in to a shocking scene.

Every person in northern Alabama who could afford a plane ticket was in the airport...or so it seemed. And they were all wearing that awful crimson color, and saying those ugly words, "Roll Tide." I felt like a spy in enemy territory, and was glad I hadn't worn my Auburn sweatshirt. It was a rough flight for this War Eagle girl, flying from Alabama to California the day before the championship game. But I survived. And congrats to Bama. I don't like you, but you earned your title this year. (My brother might skin me for that!)

First stop in California: Point Mugu Naval Base, where Lanola and her husband are stationed.

We watched surfers alot. We went whale watching and saw some awesome dolphins. That day was ended with one of the best sunsets I've ever seen. I'd post a photo of it, but um, posting photos on blogger is about the lamest ever.

Next, I went to Riverside to visit KKW. She wanted to get out of town, so we went up the Sequoia National Park to see some big trees.

One day excursion redeemed

I decided to return to D.C. in an attempt to redeem my previous one day excursion (although I did not return with the same people). I had a wonderful day and in true form to my deep love for top ten lists, here are the highlights of the day.

10. Seeing the Hope diamond at the Smithsonian. (It wasn't what I expected, though, and I like the family heirloom diamond on my finger better!)
9. The Legacy of the Punjab exhibit at the Smithsonian--of course my favorite exhibit would have to do with India! I loved pressing the button that made the Sikh music play!
8. Riding the Metro, reminding me of my Europe days.
7. Stalking two (Central Asian looking) foreigners at the Lincoln Memorial, trying to figure out where they were from (or to work up the courage to ask them, which I never did).
6. Pretending to be secret FBI agents delivering information on the sly in the park...
5. A very friendly deaf man walking two very friendly schnousers.
4. The colors of the leaves around the memorials was breathtaking and indescribable. They left me speechless.
3. Spending the day with two fellow nomads, sharing stories of our travels all day long. Crystal's story of dingue fever was probably my favorite.
2. THAI Tanic Restaurant. Get it? How could we not eat there? It was fab.
1. Adult organized league KICK BALL in the park, full with uniforms, ref's, and power drinks. KICK BALL. God bless America.

DC Excursion

I started this blog because people are always telling me how much they love hearing about my crazy travel stories. Well, here you go.

So here I am chillin with the beautiful blessing of being in Virginia in the fall--is there really any better place to be? (Okay, maybe the Northeast, but I've never been there, so I'll stick with what I know. Virginia beats my sweet San Francisco in November every time). I'm living on this farm in the middle of nowhere, I don't even have cell reception. (Wasn't there an election or something recently?)

So I decided to venture back out into reality for a day and go to Washington D.C. I group up with a couple that I barely know from work, and we decide we want to find this fabulous Afghan restaurant we'd read about on the web. We've got a map and everything. We start in Union Station, which, in my mind branches in any direction you would need to go. The husband of the couple I am with, however, states that the Metro does not go anywhere near where we need to be, and we can just walk. I trust him and start walking.

Why do I trust him? Because the day before, our company had given us the results of our Myers Briggs Type Indicator, and I'd found out that I am a strong P. I have no organizational skills. I am the one who just well, walks out of Union Station in the direction that I need to go. I'd intentionally paired myself with this couple, because the husband is an ex-military off the chart J--organizational to the extreme. He would have a map. He would know the quickest and easiest way from point A to point B. Surely with him in the lead, none of my time will be wasted. Shoo--we might even just see George W with this guy leading the way.

So I trust him and start walking. Walk we did. After an hour and a half, we see a Metro, and I suggest we take it, even if for a few blocks, so that we could shorten our hike. Mr. J says no, and that we're almost there. I ask the address, to which he responds, "33 M Street." I look around. We are the corner of I Street and 17th. I'm not real good at math, but I quickly state, "That's another 15 blocks!" To which he asks, "Is that how it works?" (Not sarcastically, but innocently.) "Yes, that's how it works."He responds, "Well, we better get walking!"

By the end of the day, we had literally walked from Union Station to across the Virginia state line, where, conviently there was a Metro five blocks from our original destination, which I should add--closed three years ago. We walked two and a half hours to find a lamp shop where an Afghan restaurant used to be.Well...I got my exercise logged in for the MONTH, I got to see the capital--which I decided looks way more Roman than I'd ever known (Am I the only one who noticed how blatant it is?), I enjoyed the Islamic Art exhibit at the National Art Gallery, and got yelled at by my Lebanese waiter. All in all, it was worth it just to escape the farm for a few hours.

Being a "be-er" in a "do-er" world

There has been discussion as of late about "being" vs "doing." I am a "be-er." All my friends are "do-ers." A few weeks ago when I was in Colorado visiting my soul twin (a "do-er"), I was so content to sit in her sun room and stare out the window at the mountains for hours, especially when the abnormaltime snow came. (I thought she was going to push me off the mountain I made her so stir crazy in that cabin!) Ahhh... to sit and enjoy the sweet life that God has graced us with each day.

The time I enjoy being most is around 7 or 8 am when I'm still so sleepy that I'm a grump. Even though I despise the ungodly hour, I love the silence of it. I love how the coffee pot disrupts the silence and awakens all of my senses. Then to sit in the early morning light with two of the most precious gifts God has ever given: coffee and His Word. To sit there and read that He delights in me, He desires to give me more than I can ever ask or imagine, that He has given me His divine power to do more than conquerer type things and His spirit to be more like Him. That is a beautiful moment to be.

The necessity of this world calls us to "do" in order to survive, though, and so I have this new job that requires several weeks of training before moving overseas. This training--very DO oriented. All my "do-er" friends would be pleased with this schedule, while I sit and think, "what kind of international training is this? The word 'schedule' doesn't exist overseas, nor does business begin before sunup." So those early morning moments of just "being" with God have to be pushed back to 6am--or earlier. The be-er in me skirms in resistance to all the doing required of me in this place.

But I was reminded this morning that before Jesus sent the apostles out (to do), He called them to Him (to be). (See Mark 6). These crazy people around here may want me to do until my curly hair goes straight from running so much, but my Master has called me to be. And I'm just crazy enough to get up in the detested pre-six hours to be...with Him.

October Cotton

I have bruises on my feet from tripping over my suitcase.

You'd think I'd put it away, and yet I've been living out of it since at least May (maybe earlier, it's hard to remember anymore). I also have blisters (big ones) on my heels from wearing closed shoes for the first time since at least April. I figured since I would spending the fall in Virginia, I can't get away with my flip flops on a daily basis anymore and ought, therefore, to warn my toes. I should have warned my heels...

The trip this last week was to Opelika, Alabama, neighbor to the great town of AUBURN. War Eagle. It is amazing how quickly one can learn to incorporate that phrase to their vernacular. I donned my orange and blue for a week, wishing I'd chosen years ago to be a part of that tradition. Maybe I'll go there for my doctorate.

For a few days I was a southern belle, Scarlett for the 21st century. I drank sweet tea while sitting on the back porch of my cousins house, who is so far out in the country I was denied cable television, internet, and cell reception. They took me out for my birthday to the Good Ole Boys Restaurant, and asked if I wanted a cow bell rung in my honor.

As I looked at the fields of cotton that is ready to be picked on my drive home, I thought about the snow I'd seen the week before. October Cotton is the closest Alabama gets to seeing snow on a normal year. (Let us not forget that snow is so rare in the Dixie state that Scout Finch thought the sky was falling when she first saw it). I'd like to return some day to Alabama in October to go to the Syrup Sop Fest in Loachapoka... or maybe just to find that quiet spot on my cousin's back porch.

But the suitcase must move on for now.

Snow and Sojourning

I woke up this week to find a half a foot of snow on the ground. In September.

The only time in my life that I have seen snow in September was a freak storm in Alaska in 92. (Wow, that was a long time ago!) This week, I excitedly phoned my friends and told them it was snowing. "Where are you?" they'd ask. Colorado. "Oh." No shared excitement over the snow. Sure it snows in Colorado alot--but not in September. Nor am I from Colorado to see normaltime snow, much less abnormaltime snow.

My friends, remembering who they were speaking to, asked another question. "When was the last time you saw snow?" Ahhh...The mind reeled back to the places I'd been and lived in the last few years. Southern India (no snow), Northern California (no snow), any state on the Gulf of Mexico (certianly no snow), Portugal (no snow in Lisbon anyway)... Hmmm...Could it really be that the last time I saw snow was Christmas of 99 in Brussells? Has it been that long? Perhaps that is why I was so excited!

The snow melted with the sun that afternoon and was gone as quickly as I tend to be in one place. I boarded a plane the next day, leaving Colorado to go not home, but simply the next place (where there will be no snow either). It seems I never get to go home, always simply to the next place. The Portuguese call it caminhado...my friend in Northen India calls it being a nomad...others still may say sojourning. My soul twin (who I visited in the abnormaltime September snow of Colorado) and I, we just know that we're never quite home.

Yet.

But like Abraham and others of the Hall of Faith, perhaps I am just looking for a bettercountry... home... heaven... Him.