Geico for your money.

I was driving around my hometown with my parents on Christmas Eve, looking at the neighborhood that usually puts luminaries out.

Except this year that neighborhood did not do luminaries, which means Christmas should have been canceled and I just wasted a trip home. (Best guess as to why they didn’t put them out this year: burn ban.)

I had surgery on Dec. 20, and I was in a mood on Christmas Eve. My head throbbed and my face was swollen.

I was in the backseat, and I started talking about how I want a prenup if someone ever decides that I’m maybe marriage material.

My parents didn’t seem to like this idea of mine.

Marriage is forever, they said. Through sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live. ‘Til death do you part.

At this point, I thought the only appropriate response to that was to start singing some Kayne:

We want prenup! We want prenup! It’s something that you need to have, cause when she leaves, she’s gonna leave with half.

🤷‍♀️

Merry Christmas to my parents, from me.

We don’t want no gold diggers! 

Space and stuff.

Confession time: I have a huge girl crush on all things NASA, space, and Neil deGrasse Tyson.

I was pretty excited to have this conversation…until it actually happened. 🤷‍♀️

My Dad: Are you excited for the James Webb Space Telescope?

Me: Yes. But we won’t get any images for six months, so don’t get too excited.

(Crickets.)

My Dad: Hey Dad, are you excited for the James Webb Space Telescope?

Me: Hey Dad, are you excited for the James Webb Space Telescope?

Dad: Yes! We need a little closer look at Uranus.

(NOT. MY. JOKE.)

🤣

I’m going to reverse your face.

I’ve spent a week in my hometown, which is a few days too many in my opinion.

These are my favorite quotes, in no particular order: 

Me: If both kids are hiding, who is seeking?

BFF: It’s quiet. I don’t care.

—

My Dad: This makes me want to pull out my little grey hairs.

Context: I don’t remember.

—

My favorite 7-year-old redhead, playing Uno: I’m going to reverse your face.

🤣

She’s the best.

—

Redheaded 7-year-old: Pop is delicious.

36-year-old aunt: Just wait until you’re old enough to put rum in it.

—

Same kid, looking at a photo of Eric Church that I took a couple of weeks ago: He’s real?

🤣

—

Redhead, while playing Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza: This is so stressful.

…it’s Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza. 🤣

—

This is not a quote, but a memory that I’ll remember forever.

We were watching the new Spider-Man movie, and everyone’s favorite friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was on the big screen making out with his girlfriend.

My favorite little redhead turns her body towards me, rolls her eyes at the top of her head and sticks out her tongue.

I feel the same way about men and love, child.

She’s the best ever.

He’s real?

I’m stuck in a weird part of life, that week between Christmas and New Year’s, and I don’t really know what day or date it is right now.

My Christmas break came a couple of days early, thanks to a storm that knocked out power and water to my town. 

I roughed it for a few days, had surgery in a nearby town, and spent a few quality days with my Dad as he took me to surgery and put up with me afterward.

I would feel better if someone would just run me over.

Sinus surgery is no joke.

I was convinced that I was going to wear lipstick to church on Christmas Eve. That was my goal.

I did not meet that goal. Today is the first day that I’ve gotten out of my pajamas, did my hair and put make up on.

There’s also this wonderful side effect of face surgery called swelling. And pain. There’s plenty of that, too.

Let’s just say that I really know how to party when I have a couple of weeks off of work.

Anyway, this post is not about my swollen face. This post is about my favorite red-headed child, my niece, who is seven years old. Almost the big eight!

She’s the most brilliant and cute red-headed niece I know. Also, she’s the only red-headed niece I know, but whatever.

I digress. 

—

We had some time to kill tonight before we saw a movie. Because I actually got dressed and went somewhere today, I felt terrible, health wise, and I needed some peace and quiet. 

I needed to introvert.

My favorite little redhead asked if she could tag along, and of course I said yes.

We shut the door, and I stuck my headphones on her. First, I played her Eric Church’s White House Christmas song that he sang.

My favorite little redhead grinned a toothless grin and gave me a thumbs up. 

I played her some more songs, and let her pick out some of his songs to play. She danced, swayed, and hummed along.

The last few minutes of our introverting involved me showing her my Washington D.C. photos and videos.

I explained to her that I saw him in concert. Twice! I showed her my whopping one photo that I took that was kind of close up.

She asked me who he was in the photo, who the other guitar player was, and who everyone else was in the photo.

My favorite red-headed child went back and pointed at Eric Church in the photo.

Yes, that’s him, I said.

7-year-old child: “He’s real?”

🤣

I think we’re stuck in a weird week full of Santa and Spider-Man, both of whom may or may not exist. When you add in Eric Church to that mix, things just get confusing when you’re seven years old. 

Child, I said. Did you think Eric Church wasn’t real? 

Her answer: “Well, I wasn’t sure. But now I know.”

🤷‍♀️

Also, I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love this child and her siblings. (There has to be a word stronger than love to describe this.)

One day, I will take this child (and her sisters) to a concert, and maybe that day they will feel the magic that I feel. 

He, child, he is very much real, and you need to believe, just like I do.

Kansas

I’m still not completely sure what happened to me yesterday, but I’m pretty sure that I just drove though and then ran (on my feet) through a tornado.

How do you not know whether it’s a tornado when you’ve lived in Kansas your whole life?

I don’t know how to explain that.

All I know is that when I left, everything was fine and that storm was not a tornado warmed storm.

And then things imploded, I drove back to town, and there were really dark clouds.

When I got to my place, I ran inside, grabbed my dogs, and then watched as my lights flickered and then went out. 

There were also some really interesting noises above us.

I am fine, physically. My things are fine. My mind is not fine, and it’s going to be a while before I get over that one.

I’ve lived in Kansas my whole life. I know you’re not supposed to be in a car or out in it. And…I did both of those things.

I Kansas so bad, I don’t deserve Kansas anymore.

Things are okay, mostly. There’s a boil water advisory, some people are still without power, and there’s tree damage everywhere. 

I haven’t seen any official reports of whether it was a tornado, but if it was one, it wasn’t big enough to amount to anything.

(In my defense, there was a tornado warning and sirens were going off.)

I did not have driving and running through a tornado on my 2020-2021 bingo card. 

I’m sick of that damn bingo game. I hate bingo.

Healing is weird.

If I could give my younger self advice, it would probably go something like this: Don't have a preconceived notion of what you think your life will look like in a year, five years, or 10 years.

It will not turn out like you wanted. 

If you let go of what you want to happen, other things will happen. 

Good things. Good things will happen.

—

I think one of my favorite memories, ever, is going to be the first morning I woke up in DC. 

I put my music on and walked around for a while.

I sat down on park benches and people watched. For about three hours, I just wandered around aimlessly, oftentimes stopping to sit, and I just looked around at all of this beauty that I’ve never seen before.

I showed people my photos of Christmas trees in DC today.

How can you even explain that in words?

The one in the Library of Congress is the photo that I keep going back to. (The one pictured above).

Are you kidding me?

I wouldn’t consider myself well traveled, especially considering the fact that I now live in a military town with people who have lived all over the world, but I do travel more than your average person.

I’ve never seen anything like what I saw in DC, in a good way. 

Are you kidding me?

This middle of nowhere Kansas girl is impresssed. 

The word beauty does not begin to describe it.

—

I’m going to put all of my rambles in this post. I would apologize for that, but I’m not sorry about it.

This is where my mind is at the moment, and we’re just going to go with it.

—

I’ve known for a while now that I need to move on.

I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s a feeling that I have in my soul that what was in my life before is not enough for my anymore. (Moving earlier this year helped with that.)

I just think there’s something, somewhere, out there for me. 

On Sunday in DC, I sat outside a Smithsonian museum on a park bench for about an hour.

I people watched, mostly, and I thought a lot about doing something that’s been long overdue.

Finally, I gave myself a deadline. This thing that I need to do will be done by noon. I ended up being 15 minutes late, but whatever. 

I took my phone out, and while listening to the 10-minute version of All Too Well, I clicked on my camera roll and went back to the photos that I know exist, but never look at.

I deleted every single photo I had on my phone of the man that before now, I wasn’t able to get over.

Every single photo got deleted. Not only photos of him, but the trips we took, the concerts and venues went to, every single drink we drank and cool photos of cute coffees in big cities.

I counted them, too. 

I wasn’t willing to let go, until now.

I know that people in marriages or happy relationships and might read this (just kidding, no one will read this) and think that it’s not normal to keep talking about that relationship.

But here’s the thing: I’m not married and I don’t have kids. I don’t know what that’s like. I really don’t even know what normal is like.

What I do know is that there are now memories on my phone that I want to keep forever, and that I now have no more room for those photos on my phone.

I don’t have room for that in my life. 

I don’t want to be a part of that story anymore.

Healing is weird. I still don’t know how or why it happens when it does. Sometimes it takes a week to get over someone, and sometimes it takes years.

I think sometimes you have to see beautiful things states away for the first time as a reminder that there’s a life out there that’s worth living, and that life doesn’t involve the person you can’t get over.

If that’s what it takes to get over someone, then maybe I should have done it sooner. 

But I didn’t because I didn’t know any better.

So congratulations to everyone in this story who moved on, which happens to be everyone except myself.

My advice to the new people in these people's lives?

I’m sorry. These people are complete train wrecks, and although I will never know you, I know that you don’t deserve the misery they’ll eventually bring to your life. 

And I’m sorry that you’re both in relationships with people who haven’t taken the time to heal themselves.

You don’t really know how important that is until you experience it yourself.

—

That’s where I’m at right now. 

All over the place, yes, but that’s life sometimes.

Quotes

Random things I overheard this weekend on the right coast:

- Guy, probably in his late 40s or early 50s, introducing his girlfriend to everyone, and telling people where she worked (prestigious company): “She’s my sugar momma.”

Guy beside him: “You’re a man after my own heart.”

- Random girl: “Get you a man who looks at you like that guy looks at Eric Church.”

Fat chance of that ever happening.

- Random dude in front of me the second night, whipping around to interrogate me after I coughed: “I am not a germophobe. I’m germ-aware. Give me your hands.”

I thought we were going to hold hands? I stuck my hands out, and he sprayed sanitizer on them.

Also, I’m having sinus surgery in a week, but I’m not going to explain that to a drunk germ-aware dude at a concert.

Sanitize the crap out of my hands, dude, I don’t care.

The entire concert: “I’m germ-aware!”

Great, I’m happy for you. Also, upcoming surgery. 

He also didn’t last the entire concert and I did, so stick that in your country song, germophobe. 

You might as well just pour your beer on my hands. The alcohol is probably the same strength as your sanitizer. 

🤷‍♀️

- A moment with the girl beside me, who adopted me.

Me: “What’s the most important relationship you’ll ever be in?”

Her, above the music: “YOURSELF.”

She understood the assignment. 

I did what I did, I have no regrets

I should probably wait to write this when I have a laptop in my hand. Instead, I’m sitting on a park bench, freezing, a few states away from home, writing this in a note in my phone.

I don’t know how to describe the past 48 hours of my life. Right now, I don’t have the words for it.

I am going to try my best to spew some words out here to describe the experience I just had.

My words will not do it any justice, but I’m going to give it my all. 

—

In a museum in Washington D.C., I made a mistake. I pulled out my phone, looked at my camera roll, and I started to cry. 

I do a lot of things alone in life, but last night, I was not alone. 

A stranger adopted me into her friend group, with open arms and drinks flowing, and I kind of invited myself to her wedding.

She and her fiancé agreed to my inviting myself to their wedding. Whether they remember it or not, I’m not really sure.

And I’ll go. No doubt, I will be there to cheer them on and to be their biggest fan.

Last night, we put our arms around each other. We held each other up, sometimes literally, and we danced badly (on my part, anyway) and sang and drank our life’s problems away.

Last night, life didn’t have any issues. There was no stress or obligations or other serious stuff going on.

There were amazing quotes, amazing hugs, amazing moments and amazing people.

Best quote of the night: “I sing like I think I’m Joanna Cotten.” 

Me: “Don’t we all?”

Another good one: “My feet got dehydrated, so I gave them a drink.”

I’m not sure what that means, but it’s hilarious and I’ll remember it forever. 

And please don’t ever tell me that a pair of cute shoes can’t change a girl’s life, because they totally can. 

—

On Friday, I waited in line for a while at the concert. Everyone was nice and friendly, and a lot of them talked to me the second night. 

But the first night, I didn’t click with anyone around me. In line, for hours, I knew that while the people around me were amazing, I was not going to keep in touch with any of them.

Everyone had someone, and I was really just the alone, awkward introvert who is too introverted to connect with strangers on something more than a superficial level.

I was kind of bummed about it.

Because of reasons, getting inside of the venue was a cluster…as it usually is. People around me were upset, yelling, cussing.

I really didn’t give a shit.

I got a spot up close, kind of. Technically front row, but the technicality was that it was so far off to the side, I spent the majority of the night cranking my neck and looking backward, trying to see something other than the back of someone’s head.

There was a cute family beside me with three small kids, so I offered them my spot, and they gladly accepted.

At this point, the view is not going to get any better. Might as well let the cute kids be closer than me.

A few minutes later, the girl beside me told me she liked my shoes.

I was wearing a pair of glittery gold shoes. I’m girly like that.

I said thanks, and then I stuck my foot out to her friend group to show off my shoes.

And with that, with a cute glittery foot out, a friendship formed.

Friday was fun. The girl beside me and I talked throughout the concert, about relationships, being cheated on, and other tough life things.

We decided at the end of the concert that all of the heartbreak was worth it, because it led to this magical moment in a magical room with a magical man on stage entertaining us.

Also, the girl beside me invited me to hang out her friend group at Saturday night’s show.

I thought, hell yes. Don’t tempt me with a good time,  because I will take you up on that offer immediately.

—

The next night, I met them for drinks at a bar across the street from the concert. While tons of people were in line, and probably fighting and cussing at each other to get a good spot by the stage, we stayed at the bar.

I think life is about these moments. We shared stories about our past and I laughed and laughed and laughed. 

When we finally did go to the concert, after drinking in the rain, we decided on a spot in the very back, on the second floor balcony.

We couldn’t see shit, except each other. For the majority of the show, all we did was face each other, sing and dance badly and drink and laugh and hug.

It was the best day ever.

—

I thanked my newfound friends for the night and for the laughter more than once.

I told them that they had no idea how much it meant to me. 

I think we all agreed that this friendship needs to be long lasting, and I remember saying, and hearing, several times that we need to all remember this moment.

No matter what happens in our lives, I want to remember them and I want them to remember me.

Life is not always pretty, but dammit, there are times when it’s downright beautiful. 

—

And that’s that. Somehow a conversation about glittery shoes sparked a friendship.

—

I try to respect people’s privacy on thishereblog, and I do my best to not use my words nefariously. (Well, except if you date me and then cheat on me. Then it’s game on.)

I will spill one secret from my newfound friend group: one of them has an Eric Church Christmas tree.

That’s so brilliant, I can’t even explain how brilliant it is. I did not ask my new friend what her tree topper looks like, but if it’s not a pair of sunglasses, I’m going to be really disappointed.

I love you all. Thank you for both nights, and especially Saturday night. 

I can’t explain how much that means to me. You will never know how much that means to me.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 

I love you. 

❤️ 

(One caveat: When you ask Eric Church's fan club members, better known as the Church Choir, what their favorite venue and concert is, a lot of them say The Anthem. It's a tiny little place in Washington D.C. that holds about 6,000 people. I've seen him in concert with more than 50,000 people. When I ask these fans why The Anthem is so special, they just tell me to go sometime if I'm able. Seven years after I became a fan, I was finally able. The concerts this post describes were at The Anthem.)

Darkness and light

I like history

I like it a lot.

When I booked my DC trip, the first museum I booked was the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

I don’t even know what to say about it, other than I cried the whole time.

What struck me immediately was the use of darkness and light — a detail that was not lost on me, and one that I hope everyone else picks up on, too.

It’s incredible. 

The shoes. 

The newspapers.

The walls of photographs. Hundreds or thousands of them, probably.

I’m glad I got to have this experience. I’m thankful that my life led me here. 

Can I stick by you?

I’m writing this post from a French restaurant, which is fancy enough to make me feel like I don’t belong here.

But here I am, in a city I don’t belong to, visiting for the very first time, all by myself.

Let me back up a bit.

I’m a nervous traveler, a nervous adventurer, and a nervous person in general. I actually said this at work last week: I do not have a nervous system. I am the nervous system.

Right now, I am in Washington DC, roaming around, and I might be going to a couple of concerts this weekend. 

And my Uber driver just dumped me off in the middle of the street next to a tour bus…

Anyway, I was very nervous yesterday, when I was traveling to get here. I woke up nervous, I left to drive to the airport nervous, and I was a nervous wreck during my layover in Chicago.

But in Chicago, our flight had 36 people on a plane that held 175 people. It was not that stressful. And the gate to my connecting flight in Chicago was about four gates away from my arrival gate.

Also not that stressful.

I calmed down a lot in Chicago, and decided that I was going to put my brave face on and stop being so nervous.

At the airport in DC, a kind college student approached me. She was traveling alone, and she asked me if I was alone. 

When I told her that I was, she asked me if she could stick with me. 

Of course, kind college student. Of course.

At that moment, I suddenly became the leader in a city I’ve never been to and to someone I had just met. 

I laughed when I woke up this morning, and thought: one way to grow up is having to take care of a child.

😆 

So last night, in the wee dark hours of about 4:30 p.m. to 6:30 p.m., two independent women traveling alone found each other, became buddies, and successfully navigated the DC Metro by themselves. 

Well, by themselves with each other.

Whatever.

Thank you, kind stranger whose cell phone number I now have. Thank you for approaching me and to looking to me for guidance. 

I rarely look to myself for that, and I need to do that more often. 

Also, don’t underestimate the kindness and beauty that people have to offer. 

Ever.

Saucy

 I like saucy flight attendants: “In the words of my Mom on my 18th birthday, ‘Get your stuff and get out.’”