Holy crap! I thought my grandpa had eaten through most of his savings at the nursing home, but that is very much not the case. As one of his two grandchildren, I have just come into a sizable chunk of money. I'll put most into savings/IRA/whatever. But now I can easily go to Slovenia next spring, and upgrading that trip to an around the world epic adventure is now the obvious choice.
And it seems kind of fitting that the main thing I had in common with my grandfather--traveling--is how I will happily spend the money he left to me.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Bruce McGarrah
My Grandpa McGarrah died this morning. He was 96, and he had trouble breathing last night, so it wasn't totally unexpected. Honestly, I am surprised how much this is affecting me, a mix of missing him and regretting all the ways I should have been a better granddaughter.
He lived with us for ten years, then moved into a nursing home when we couldn't take care of him because of his frequent falls. He lived just two miles from our house for the next four or five years, but I only visited with family on big occasions.
I'm glad we visited him last Sunday to celebrate his 96th birthday. It was nice outside, so we took him around the sidewalks in his wheelchair. He loved being outside, and I held his hand the entire time. He was a lot more affectionate in recent years than ever before, and on Sunday I started thinking that we should visit him more frequently and take him outside since it's turning into spring.
I never knew him very well. He was old before I was born.
Roy called today, and it was the first time I really understood what it means to be siblings. Roy lived through everything I've lived through. He has my memories, and he understands how I am, because the same life experiences created us both. And we're together, for as long as we live, in a way. He is the one who I will talk to on days like this. Someday our parents will die, and it will be the two of us planning and continuing on together.
The McGarrah line is crazy small. There are now only three people with our family blood--Dad, Roy, and me. I guess Roy will have to procreate like crazy. Though we're on our way to continuing the McGarrah tradition by not having kids until we're in our thirties.
One thing I didn't know about Grandpa McGarrah until recently is that he loved to travel. When I told him I was going to Senegal, he jokingly asked if he could go with me. He went on a lot of trips that I never heard about until this past December.
It's kind of cool that Roy and I both inherited wanderlust without even realizing it's in our blood. It is nice to think that there's a part of Grandpa McGarrah in me.
He lived with us for ten years, then moved into a nursing home when we couldn't take care of him because of his frequent falls. He lived just two miles from our house for the next four or five years, but I only visited with family on big occasions.
I'm glad we visited him last Sunday to celebrate his 96th birthday. It was nice outside, so we took him around the sidewalks in his wheelchair. He loved being outside, and I held his hand the entire time. He was a lot more affectionate in recent years than ever before, and on Sunday I started thinking that we should visit him more frequently and take him outside since it's turning into spring.
I never knew him very well. He was old before I was born.
Roy called today, and it was the first time I really understood what it means to be siblings. Roy lived through everything I've lived through. He has my memories, and he understands how I am, because the same life experiences created us both. And we're together, for as long as we live, in a way. He is the one who I will talk to on days like this. Someday our parents will die, and it will be the two of us planning and continuing on together.
The McGarrah line is crazy small. There are now only three people with our family blood--Dad, Roy, and me. I guess Roy will have to procreate like crazy. Though we're on our way to continuing the McGarrah tradition by not having kids until we're in our thirties.
One thing I didn't know about Grandpa McGarrah until recently is that he loved to travel. When I told him I was going to Senegal, he jokingly asked if he could go with me. He went on a lot of trips that I never heard about until this past December.
It's kind of cool that Roy and I both inherited wanderlust without even realizing it's in our blood. It is nice to think that there's a part of Grandpa McGarrah in me.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Soulmates
You know when you're listening to someone, and they say something profound, and you think, "Whoa. I didn't realize you were deep. That is...just how I feel." And you listen to them more carefully from then on, and they consistently make you either deliriously happy or pull on your heart like only someone special can do.
I call that finding a soulmate.
And I have found mine. Adele, you are my new Mumford and Sons (yeah, I was totally talking about music). Also I'm lying, because no one has yet replaced Mumford and Sons as my musical soulmate. But Adele has definitely taken Ingrid Michaelson's place.
What I love about Adele is her reaction to breakup and heartache. In nearly all the songs on her 21 album, she mentions "remember me" or "don't you remember"...and that's just exactly it. When friendships or crushes die, what I wonder most is, "But don't you remember this event or that conversation? Wasn't that important?" And then I think, "I hope for the rest of your life, you'll look back and think of me. You'll remember that I was a person in your life, that knowing me made a difference."
Maybe Adele and I are narcissistic (which is a very viable possibility). But I love hearing someone sing my emotions.
Favorite song: "Someone Like You." After describing the pain of seeing the person she loved loving someone else and being happy, she says:
"I hate to turn up out of the blue univited
But I couldn't stay away, couldn't fight it
I had hoped you'd see my face, and that you'd be reminded
That for me it isn't over.
Nevermind
I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
'Don't forget me,' I begged
'I'll remember,' you said
Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead."
It's the "Nevermind, I'll find someone like you" that makes me want to bear hug Adele and commiserate together. What else can you do when the "perfect" person doesn't want you? You have to find someone else just like them, because they weren't the problem. You were.
Thanks, Adele, my new girl angst soulmate!
I call that finding a soulmate.
And I have found mine. Adele, you are my new Mumford and Sons (yeah, I was totally talking about music). Also I'm lying, because no one has yet replaced Mumford and Sons as my musical soulmate. But Adele has definitely taken Ingrid Michaelson's place.
What I love about Adele is her reaction to breakup and heartache. In nearly all the songs on her 21 album, she mentions "remember me" or "don't you remember"...and that's just exactly it. When friendships or crushes die, what I wonder most is, "But don't you remember this event or that conversation? Wasn't that important?" And then I think, "I hope for the rest of your life, you'll look back and think of me. You'll remember that I was a person in your life, that knowing me made a difference."
Maybe Adele and I are narcissistic (which is a very viable possibility). But I love hearing someone sing my emotions.
Favorite song: "Someone Like You." After describing the pain of seeing the person she loved loving someone else and being happy, she says:
"I hate to turn up out of the blue univited
But I couldn't stay away, couldn't fight it
I had hoped you'd see my face, and that you'd be reminded
That for me it isn't over.
Nevermind
I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
'Don't forget me,' I begged
'I'll remember,' you said
Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead."
It's the "Nevermind, I'll find someone like you" that makes me want to bear hug Adele and commiserate together. What else can you do when the "perfect" person doesn't want you? You have to find someone else just like them, because they weren't the problem. You were.
Thanks, Adele, my new girl angst soulmate!
Monday, April 11, 2011
Money and Spending
I have been very good about saving my money since moving to Peoria. And then, BAM, I've been spending it like crazy lately. I went to the eye doctor (hurray for new prescriptions after my lazy non-fuctioning eyeballs consistently regressed for two years!) and bought new lenses and contacts. It was only after I wrote the check that I realized I could have held off on one or the other to use yearly insurance on each. Oops. Live and learn and all that.
And apparently you have to renew your license plate every year? For $100? Lame.
I can see that I am quickly having to pay for everything an adult pays for except for rent. And car insurance. And cell phone bills.
Okay okay, no more complaining. I'm incredibly privileged.
But anyway, what it comes down to is a camera. I've been thinking about getting a nice camera, since I sometimes get paid to take pictures, I feel underqualified showing up with a common digital camera. The pictures are not super awesome. And also I like to travel, obvs, and it would be cool to take totally awesome photographs of the places I visit.
One day I saw my TN brother was advertising on facebook that he wanted to sell his very nice fancy camera. We talked and planned, and I said I'd buy it for $800. I'll pick it up when I visit Jackson in May, but in the interim, I'm starting to freak out.
I have the money. But. I've been so good at saving, and not buying anything unless the previous thing dies/falls apart/is ruined. This would be a fun thing. Is that okay? What if I buy this and then suddenly am overcome with the desire to buy more and more? It this a materialistic purchase? I'm an all-or-nothing sort of girl; I'm not sure how to deal in middle ground issues.
And apparently you have to renew your license plate every year? For $100? Lame.
I can see that I am quickly having to pay for everything an adult pays for except for rent. And car insurance. And cell phone bills.
Okay okay, no more complaining. I'm incredibly privileged.
But anyway, what it comes down to is a camera. I've been thinking about getting a nice camera, since I sometimes get paid to take pictures, I feel underqualified showing up with a common digital camera. The pictures are not super awesome. And also I like to travel, obvs, and it would be cool to take totally awesome photographs of the places I visit.
One day I saw my TN brother was advertising on facebook that he wanted to sell his very nice fancy camera. We talked and planned, and I said I'd buy it for $800. I'll pick it up when I visit Jackson in May, but in the interim, I'm starting to freak out.
I have the money. But. I've been so good at saving, and not buying anything unless the previous thing dies/falls apart/is ruined. This would be a fun thing. Is that okay? What if I buy this and then suddenly am overcome with the desire to buy more and more? It this a materialistic purchase? I'm an all-or-nothing sort of girl; I'm not sure how to deal in middle ground issues.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Let's See Where This Takes Us
I have no plans for what to write about.
I had K-1 LEGO club today, which means they were adorable and hilarious. One boy told me that if Obama didn't beat the Germans, we would all get bloody. I didn't know if he thought he was stating facts or not, but I didn't want to go into any kind of details about the war, so I just said, "Is that so?" and turned my attention to Boy With Glasses who, instead of making an animal, was making a machine that makes animals.
I need to cut my fingernails.
Why can girls have long fingernails but boys can't?
Why are so many of our gendered social constructs the way they are? The kids in LEGO club said boys couldn't like pink, and that's stupid. What does that have to do with anything? So I said it was better for everyone to like all colors, and they just kind of nodded like they didn't care.
David says Alec Baldwin is useless now that he is fat, but I love him on 30 Rock. Someone also said that 30 Rock was a racy show, and....is it? I've watched (and loved) the first two seasons, and I haven't noticed anything obviously worse than normal. Maybe I have a higher tolerance than most (okay, I know that is true), but I don't think its abnormal for TV. And it's HILARIOUS. Oh, Jack Donaghy and Liz Lemon. Yours is a relationship for the ages--always platonic and respectful, if sometimes insulting. So nice to have a healthy male/female relationship on a show that never veers into sexual tension just for the ratings.
They've now cast Katniss, Peeta, and Gale for Hunger Games. I've decided not to freak out until I see pictures of them in character. And I heard that the script is all kinds of awesome. They even added something I really wanted! They're going to cut between the games to people watching the games. YAY! I always thought that would be fascinating to see.
However, I also heard they've messed with the flashback bread scene. I don't know how or why, but that makes me nervous.
I wish Peeta were my boyfriend.
I had K-1 LEGO club today, which means they were adorable and hilarious. One boy told me that if Obama didn't beat the Germans, we would all get bloody. I didn't know if he thought he was stating facts or not, but I didn't want to go into any kind of details about the war, so I just said, "Is that so?" and turned my attention to Boy With Glasses who, instead of making an animal, was making a machine that makes animals.
I need to cut my fingernails.
Why can girls have long fingernails but boys can't?
Why are so many of our gendered social constructs the way they are? The kids in LEGO club said boys couldn't like pink, and that's stupid. What does that have to do with anything? So I said it was better for everyone to like all colors, and they just kind of nodded like they didn't care.
David says Alec Baldwin is useless now that he is fat, but I love him on 30 Rock. Someone also said that 30 Rock was a racy show, and....is it? I've watched (and loved) the first two seasons, and I haven't noticed anything obviously worse than normal. Maybe I have a higher tolerance than most (okay, I know that is true), but I don't think its abnormal for TV. And it's HILARIOUS. Oh, Jack Donaghy and Liz Lemon. Yours is a relationship for the ages--always platonic and respectful, if sometimes insulting. So nice to have a healthy male/female relationship on a show that never veers into sexual tension just for the ratings.
They've now cast Katniss, Peeta, and Gale for Hunger Games. I've decided not to freak out until I see pictures of them in character. And I heard that the script is all kinds of awesome. They even added something I really wanted! They're going to cut between the games to people watching the games. YAY! I always thought that would be fascinating to see.
However, I also heard they've messed with the flashback bread scene. I don't know how or why, but that makes me nervous.
I wish Peeta were my boyfriend.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
No One Movies Like the Monahans
I'm going to cheat and include yesterday in today, because the event that was awesome came after I fell asleep. Next thing I know my phone is in my hand and Liz is saying, "OH MY GOSH GUESS WHAT!?" I must have responded groggily, because she then asked, "Did I wake you up?
I rolled over to look at my alarm clock. 11:30. I didn't remember falling asleep, and I didn't remember answering my phone. "I...don't know!?"
"How can you not know?"
"I just don't! What time--? Was I asleep??" This was mentally straining, so I pretended it didn't matter. She went on to tell me that a friend of hers had totally hiked Mount Hood with none other than Donald Miller and had then stayed the night at his house! What what!
Also we talked about how funny it is that Holly wanted a boy and a family FIERCELY for two years, and now she has one. We both admitted that we were jealous of her getting the desire of her heart, then laughed that obviously we didn't have our boys because the desires of our hearts are not singular and consistent.
Because really, how is God supposed to give me the desires of my heart when it goes something like, "I WANT A BOY! No, I want freedom! And traveling! And meaning and purpose and adventure! And a boy! Ugh, no, boys just lead to heartache and struggle. But they're worth it! Nope, much easier to just be alone and happy!"
God probably rolls his eyes at me a lot.
Then today (by normal definitions of 'today'), I worked at the library with Marianne, who is my favorite desk partner. We talked about Mongolia and materialism and bank accounts. Good stuff. Also I snagged Tangled when it came in, which I then took over to the Monahans.
Dunno if I talked about this the first time I watched Tangled, but that movie is mega awesome. So cute, so funny! Disney at its finest (after Lion King, of course). And then Tangled turned into Holes which turned into Casino Royale. I ended up spending over eight hours at their house instead of two, which is always a good time trade. I even got to cuddle with Abby, punch David, and chat with Wendy to boot.
To boot. What a weird phrase.
I hadn't made any official plans this weekend and it turned out lovely. It's nice when that happens.
I rolled over to look at my alarm clock. 11:30. I didn't remember falling asleep, and I didn't remember answering my phone. "I...don't know!?"
"How can you not know?"
"I just don't! What time--? Was I asleep??" This was mentally straining, so I pretended it didn't matter. She went on to tell me that a friend of hers had totally hiked Mount Hood with none other than Donald Miller and had then stayed the night at his house! What what!
Also we talked about how funny it is that Holly wanted a boy and a family FIERCELY for two years, and now she has one. We both admitted that we were jealous of her getting the desire of her heart, then laughed that obviously we didn't have our boys because the desires of our hearts are not singular and consistent.
Because really, how is God supposed to give me the desires of my heart when it goes something like, "I WANT A BOY! No, I want freedom! And traveling! And meaning and purpose and adventure! And a boy! Ugh, no, boys just lead to heartache and struggle. But they're worth it! Nope, much easier to just be alone and happy!"
God probably rolls his eyes at me a lot.
Then today (by normal definitions of 'today'), I worked at the library with Marianne, who is my favorite desk partner. We talked about Mongolia and materialism and bank accounts. Good stuff. Also I snagged Tangled when it came in, which I then took over to the Monahans.
Dunno if I talked about this the first time I watched Tangled, but that movie is mega awesome. So cute, so funny! Disney at its finest (after Lion King, of course). And then Tangled turned into Holes which turned into Casino Royale. I ended up spending over eight hours at their house instead of two, which is always a good time trade. I even got to cuddle with Abby, punch David, and chat with Wendy to boot.
To boot. What a weird phrase.
I hadn't made any official plans this weekend and it turned out lovely. It's nice when that happens.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Eye Doctors and Social Awkwardness
If you know me, you know that I am...awkward around people. Sure, sometimes I can be social, but those are the exceptions to the rule. When left to my most basic personality, I am awkward.
Like today when I went to the eye doctor. Let it be known that, from the safety of my home, I will say that the eye doctor is my favorite health service. For some reason I never remember that getting my eyes checked is really a specialized form of mental torture.
A new guy took me in for pre-consultation tests. I assume he was new because he said, "I don't normally do this, but since you're waiting..." Not a good sign. I was chatty and friendly until the table rotated and a machine was in front of me. I knew it wasn't the machine of death, but as I put my chin in the indentation and leaned my forehead against the prongs, my heart rate spiked and sweat seeped from probably every pore.
I counted every second of freedom until the machine of death. You know the one. The one that shoots puffs of air into your eyeball. I don't know why, but I am deathly afraid of that machine. Which is unfortunate, because it measures eye pressure, which only increases when you're afraid. So the numbers were high, which meant he had to do it again because they were abnormal! Also he was new and slightly incompetent, so altogether I had to suffer through seven eye puffs. That doesn't even account for the part that really drives me batty, which is staring into the light, waiting, and trying to keep my eyes wide, but unable to stop myself from blinking erratically, which only makes him unable to do the test, which makes me wait longer, which makes me MORE CRAZY. Times seven.
That might not sound traumatizing, but my facade of cheer was completely gone. He even asked, incredulously, "Are you nervous or something?" to which I stuttered, "I just...don't...I really hate this! Something must have happened when I was a kid! Doesn't everyone react this way? Are you saying I'm stupid for being so afraid of an eye puff!?!"
And then that fear generalized to all the machines which necessitate putting your face against them, which I'll just let you know, is all of them.
He was really nice about it all. And that is when I saw my social awkwardness. He was totally chill and friendly, telling me stories about rude ladies demanding glasses. And I just sat there, nodding, and glancing away until he shut up and left. Then I pulled out my book and made sure everyone knew I was busy so they wouldn't talk to me. Another patient walked by and I glanced up to smile (so she knew I was friendly) but then completely negated that by staring at everything in the room but her.
I don't make eye contact. I don't engage strangers in conversation. I much prefer to be left alone.
"So why are you going to be a missionary?" you might ask.
I would respond by saying, "I don't know! That's what I kept telling God when He told me to do it, but He didn't seem to think it was a big deal."
And then I read this post of Donald Miller's about the biblical characteristics of a disciple, and I felt so much better. God doesn't want perfect people. He wants to use the weak to shame the strong and the fools to shame the wise. And y'all, I'm terrified of eye puffs and I can't interact with strangers like a social human being. Guess that's why God has me on His list.
Like today when I went to the eye doctor. Let it be known that, from the safety of my home, I will say that the eye doctor is my favorite health service. For some reason I never remember that getting my eyes checked is really a specialized form of mental torture.
A new guy took me in for pre-consultation tests. I assume he was new because he said, "I don't normally do this, but since you're waiting..." Not a good sign. I was chatty and friendly until the table rotated and a machine was in front of me. I knew it wasn't the machine of death, but as I put my chin in the indentation and leaned my forehead against the prongs, my heart rate spiked and sweat seeped from probably every pore.
I counted every second of freedom until the machine of death. You know the one. The one that shoots puffs of air into your eyeball. I don't know why, but I am deathly afraid of that machine. Which is unfortunate, because it measures eye pressure, which only increases when you're afraid. So the numbers were high, which meant he had to do it again because they were abnormal! Also he was new and slightly incompetent, so altogether I had to suffer through seven eye puffs. That doesn't even account for the part that really drives me batty, which is staring into the light, waiting, and trying to keep my eyes wide, but unable to stop myself from blinking erratically, which only makes him unable to do the test, which makes me wait longer, which makes me MORE CRAZY. Times seven.
That might not sound traumatizing, but my facade of cheer was completely gone. He even asked, incredulously, "Are you nervous or something?" to which I stuttered, "I just...don't...I really hate this! Something must have happened when I was a kid! Doesn't everyone react this way? Are you saying I'm stupid for being so afraid of an eye puff!?!"
And then that fear generalized to all the machines which necessitate putting your face against them, which I'll just let you know, is all of them.
He was really nice about it all. And that is when I saw my social awkwardness. He was totally chill and friendly, telling me stories about rude ladies demanding glasses. And I just sat there, nodding, and glancing away until he shut up and left. Then I pulled out my book and made sure everyone knew I was busy so they wouldn't talk to me. Another patient walked by and I glanced up to smile (so she knew I was friendly) but then completely negated that by staring at everything in the room but her.
I don't make eye contact. I don't engage strangers in conversation. I much prefer to be left alone.
"So why are you going to be a missionary?" you might ask.
I would respond by saying, "I don't know! That's what I kept telling God when He told me to do it, but He didn't seem to think it was a big deal."
And then I read this post of Donald Miller's about the biblical characteristics of a disciple, and I felt so much better. God doesn't want perfect people. He wants to use the weak to shame the strong and the fools to shame the wise. And y'all, I'm terrified of eye puffs and I can't interact with strangers like a social human being. Guess that's why God has me on His list.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)