Skip the Cheerwine

So I know it's been three weeks. Don't worry, I'm still flicted. A nice mix of my own flictedness and some life experiences have given me pause. I have wanted to write so much but haven't found the right words. I think that this experience that I had this past week sums up what I'm learning pretty well. I hope I've found the right words.

I'm a native of North Carolina. I've spent the majority of my life here and I love it. However, in all my years as a citizen of the Ole North State, I have never been to the state fair. I know you all just gasped, "Thirty years of life lived as a citizen of North Carolina and she's never been to the fair?!" I know, it's just not right.

Well, this year, I decided to mend my ways and go to the fair. In fact, to prove to my fellow North Carolinians that I am serious about my heritage, I actually went twice. It was all I had expected, and more. I saw everything, and then I saw it again!

I milked a cow and I held some baby chickens. I loved the pygmy goats and the award winning crops. I didn't know pumpkins could get that big! My life has so much more meaning since I witnessed the racing pigs at the Hogway Speedway. I rooted for Piggy Gordon every time. The incredible craftsmanship at the Village of Yesteryear made me wish I had been born then, in a much simpler time when life was about hard work and survival. But then, I was glad I could walk out and down the midway and enjoy a $10 ride on the ferris wheel with my dearest friends.

And then, there was the food. The ham biscuits from the Cary United Methodist Church, the roasted corn, the funnel cake, the boiled peanuts, the ice cream from the State dairy, and of course, the fried everything, including the fried Snickers and the fried Twinkie. Yes, I even had some of a fried Twinkie.

Herein lies the life's lesson learned through my flictedness.

I wanted so much to enjoy this first fair experience. I had heard so many wonderful things about it and I had so many great expectations. In my eagerness to take it all in, I forgot most of what I have learned over the past two years of my life about moderation in ALL things. I figured that I could eat just like everybody else. Unfortunately, I am not like everybody else. I have a capacity issue :) Needless to say, I ate too much. In most people's world, this would mean a long ride home, with the top button on the jeans undone, and perhaps a restless night's sleep.

Not me. In my world, when it won't go down, it has to come up.

Of course, I spent the final thirty minutes to an hour of our outing walking around the fair with my friends pretending that I was just fine. I thought that if I could just keep walking, it would all go down. The crazy thing is that I almost made it. But they stopped for a Cheerwine on the way out and I love Cheerwine. Knowing full well my situation, I had a sip anyway. As we headed for the car, I knew I was in trouble.

We loaded up and drove one of our friends to her car. We found her car and she got out with our happy goodbyes. I just kept telling myself, "You can do it, you can keep it down." I think I was actually using some Lamaze techniques there for a moment, breathe in, breathe out, and focus. To no avail.

Half way down the parking lot, I asked my friend to stop the car so I could get out. I ran behind one car and then - NOTHING. It was horrible. I felt so bad but nothing. So, I ran back to the car and said I was OK. I was passed a plastic bag from the folks in back, just in case.

At this point there was a hush among my friends in the car. We pulled out of the lot and to the stoplight. And then there it was again - the sweaty teeth feeling and the aching jaw. So, I asked her again to pull over as we turned through the intersection, which she did promptly. I jumped out and ran behind a parked car and finally, relief.

Here's what I'm learning from this experience. I can pretend all I want but I'm not like everyone else. I've got limits. If I'm 100% honest with myself, I know those limits. There are times in life when no matter how good something is, I'll still have my limits. Still, there are some things that I want that are beyond those limits. But, no matter what I do, there are going to be some things in life that are great but I'm never going to be able to have, no matter how much I want them. Often, I'll have to be satisfied with just a taste. Experience will continue to be my mentor.

Of course, this was my first time at the fair. First times and new things are sometimes difficult to manage. No matter what others say and how great the expectations are, I will have to experience these things for myself and learn these lessons for my own experience and good. I'm so grateful to have been schooled so well. Now that I've had this experience, next time, I'll be wiser. (Well one can only hope!)

Even though I am pained deeply by the embarrassment of this flicted moment, the knowledge I've gained is invaluable. The solace to my soul in this moment was that this first fair experience was had with dear friends, who, despite my flictedness, love me still.

Of course, there's always next year. I have great hopes for next time. A little wiser and a lot more humble, I know that I will enjoy my next trip to the fair even more. Though there will never be another "first time at the fair" experience for me, the memory of this time will make the next experience even sweeter. I'm so grateful I can look forward with anticipation and back with no regrets.

Oh ye of little faith...

I am a chronic worrier. At one time or another, I would wager that as many as 95% of you have had these words come out of your mouth, "Tracy, you worry too much." I used to list it as one of my talents until I realized that it was not something about my personality that needs to be developed and/or cultivated. It adds to my flictedness, often.

As most of you know, this year I turned 30. As a chronic worrier, I spent many hours before and many hours sense, worrying about the dawn of this new decade and what it all means in the scheme of my life. My overdeveloped worry mechanism has provided me with many hours of things to ponder and fret over. I have even made a mental list of things I should have been or done or seen or had by now. Of course, topping the list are the "big three." They are, as many of you might guess, marriage, kids, and a home of my own. Also on that list is the fact that by age 30, I should be pretty well set financially with a career underway and certainly not living paycheck to paycheck. But alas, I haven't managed that yet either.

This week, I was taught a very valuable lesson about my worrying.

As a state employee, I get paid once a month, on the last workday of the month. I suppose once you get used to it, it's ok but otherwise, it's hard. Especially for those, like myself, who are budget handicap. I usually make it work but this last month was crazy. The week before last, I went to the mall to look for dance shoes (which is a whole other Flicted Friend issue :) but couldn't find any. As it would happen, I found myself at the GAP. I looked around for a little while and found some really cute things on sale. I tried on a few things and picked out three items to purchase. All of them were on sale and the total came to approximately $60.

I was excited about my new clothes but as the week wore on, some unexpected things came up and the bank account got lower and lower. By Saturday, the worrier in me was in full bloom. I decided that I would have to take back the outfit so I would have enough money to do the important things like put gas in my car and eat the last week of the month. I was sad as I approached the counter with bag in hand but felt better about my decision as I left with cash in hand, knowing I would survive until payday :)

The day before payday was like any other day. I drove to work and worked all day and drove home. I had managed to only spend about $40 on gas and other necessities so I felt pretty good knowing that I had survived, yet again to another payday. However, as I drove home, I thought about the things I had wanted that I had to give up and that caused me to reflect, yet again, on my list of things that a 30-year-old should have or be or do. I was a bit abashed as I drove into the parking lot and sulked up to the mail box. I opened it and pulled out the few things and then sulked back to my car.

Once in the car, I took a moment to look through the items in hand. The last piece of mail was addressed to me and was from one of the various doctors that I have seen over the past few years. I opened the envelope and pulled out a check for $62.80. Apparently, I had overpaid them and they sent me the difference. At that moment, tears welled up in my eyes and in my mind came these words from Luke:

"Consider the lilies how they grow; they toil not, they spin not: and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. If then God so clothe the grass, which is to day in the field, and tomorrow is cast into the oven; how much more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith?" (Luke 12:27-28).

There are many valuable lessons I will continue to extrapolate from this experience. But for this week, I ask myself, why do I ever worry? I don't have a good answer for that question; therefore, I know I need to stop worrying. I know that yesterday I have been taken care of and that today I have been taken care of. Why should tomorrow be any different? Of course, at some moment in the near future, the worry warts will emerge and I'll battle them as much as possible. But for today, I'm worry free and so thankful for the many miracles I have been blessed with.

Slow down, Turbo

Why am I in such a hurry all the time? Where is it that I think I need to be? As I reflect on the embarrassing moments in my life, many of them are born of this anxious and hurried pace that I continue to keep.

Take for instance my morning routine. I wish I could say that I arise at 5 AM every morning, refreshed and ready to take on the new day. However, that is a fleeting fantasy, and one to which I aspire. I usually hit snooze till at least 5:45 AM. I roll out of bed, say my prayers, turn on the lights and the race is on. I try to be showered, dressed, fed with lunch in hand by 6:30 in order to spend a few minutes reading and thinking. Then, I'm out the door, in the car, merging onto I-40 with all the other crazy commuters. Some mornings, I feel as if I could be drafted into NASCAR, if there was such a draft, the way I weave in and out of the fray. I wheel my car into space #14 by 7:20 AM and jump out of the car, bags in hand and head into the office.

The other morning, I didn't make it to space #14 until 7:35 AM. I don't know why I worry about that, I am the first to get to work by 30 minutes everyday but from somewhere deep inside me, there is this urge to hurry, hurry, hurry. So, threw my water bottle into my lunch bag and jumped out of the car, poised for another crazy day at the Council for Women.

I work in this old Victorian mansion, downtown Raleigh. However beautiful it is, it is still creepy in the early morning hours, especially when I am alone there for the first hour or so. I always unlock the door and then lock myself in. I then proceed to go through every room downstairs, turning on lights and making sure that I am indeed alone. I then ascend the grand staircase to the second floor, where my office is located, again, checking every room to make sure I am indeed, alone.

After following that ritual the other morning, I turned on my light in my office and put my bag down. My eyes were then drawn to the floor where a small puddle was forming. I know you are all thinking to yourself, "No she didn't wet her pants!" Of course I didn't wet my pants - I mean I am in a hurry but come on!

No, in my hurry to get into the empty, scary mansion, I forgot to tighten the lid on my water bottle. It spilled into my lunch bag and subsequently dribbled a nice Hansel and Gretel trail all over the house, in every room I had been in while checking for ghosts and unwanted visitors. By the time I noticed, my skirt was wet and so was my lunch. I spent the next 30 minutes, paper towels in hand, mopping up the water in all the rooms I had been in.

I have a new goal for this week: slow down, don't be so rushed, think before you speak and act. Life is too short already, why be in such a hurry? So, for all of you who see me on a regular basis, as my friends, I give you permission to remind me of this goal, especially when you encounter me running around like a mad woman. If you will help me then I am sure that I can avoid some future "puddling" predicaments :)

"If you can't laugh at yourself . . . then laugh at me :)" 

The Umbrella

New situations and circumstances always prove to be a prime opportunity for me to experience some sort of funny and/or embarrassing moment in my life. This week was no different.

Now that I am working downtown Raleigh, my lunch hour can be spent walking up to the capital or sitting in one of the little parks or eating at any of the various restaurants near my office.

On Thursday, I thought I would try out the cafeteria in the legislative building. For those of you who didn’t know, in the basement of the legislative building, there is a great cafeteria that serves the best food at a really good price. If you ever want to see some of your tax dollars at work, you should come to Raleigh and have lunch with me someday!

The weather has been so crazy with the hurricanes coming and going but the “chance” of showers did not worry me at all. I set out for the legislative building, umbrella, purse and book in hand. A half a block into my stroll, the bottom dropped out. I quickly deployed my umbrella and made my way across the street, under a covered walkway. One other gentleman had the same idea and we paused there together.
He had forgotten his umbrella and was very wet. He was also in a hurry to get to his meeting. I smiled and said “Hello” and he responded likewise. I could tell by his accent that he was from India. He then looked at me and asked, “Can I borrow your umbrella?”

All of the sudden I was faced with a crisis. I wanted to help this man but what was I going to do if I gave him my umbrella? Plus, if he took my umbrella, how was I going to get it back? I figured he needed it more than me so I handed it to him but asked, “Are you going to come back?” He gave me this weird look and said, “You walk with me.” Which, of course, was the obvious solution but it had not occurred to me at all. We walked down the street to his building and he parted with a thank you.

I made it to the cafeteria and walked in timidly. It was packed with lots of politicians and their staffers. It was kind of cool but I was a bit nervous. I decided to get the roast beef and rice for $3.95.

In new situations, you just follow everyone else and that makes you look like you know what you are doing. However, I got in the wrong line to pay for my food and was redirected by a nice lady who called me “honey.”
I finally found an open seat but didn’t notice it was the smoking section till someone lit up a cigarette. I felt bad about moving because I didn’t want them to think I didn’t know that I was sitting in the smoking section. So my food didn’t taste as good as it could have because of the second hand smoke.

I managed to figure out that you leave your plates on the table for someone to come and pick them up and that you pay as you leave. Both of those revelations were a blessing because I would have most likely tried to find the kitchen to wash my own dishes and then left without paying J I felt a little surge of confidence having conquered my first lunch at the legislative building. I left with a little spring in my step but that only led to me tripping on the sidewalk as I walked past two senators engaged in a conversation that I interrupted as I tripped past them. As, always just a step away from humble!