the wall
Here’s a pretty terrible picture of what I’ve spent all day (and about $100) doing. I promise, it looks a lot cooler on my wall than it does in this picture - or at least I think it does. The two doors you see are my room door and my closet door respectively, to give you an idea of where we’re talking about.
How’d I do this crafty deed? Well I blew up 25 pictures I’ve taken over the years to 8×10 and ordered pre-cut 8×10 adhesive drymount from the kind yankees at foamboardsorce.com. I dry mounted them myself, which made me very nervous at first, but it turned out to not be bad. Then I bought straight pins and put ‘em up on the wall. I know you think they aren’t level… well they probably aren’t, but at this point in time, I’m sick of messing with it. I just thought I’d share what happens when every ounce of my creativity ends up on a wall.
75 things that make me smile and/or things I like
I made this list over the past few days for fun with no intentions of making a blog about it, but then I figured, why not? Enjoy.
- Jesus and his grace
- Photography
- Music
- Good, well-made, holistic albums
- Christian hip-hop
- People (or myself) spilling drinks
- People (or myself) tripping
- My college friends: the roommates, the six chicks, Lauren Rouse and her house, Joshua Langston and Matt Graham, Molly Allen… this list would take pages and hours to make.
- My college family: the roommates, the six chicks, the Hendricks!
- Living Hope
- Rony, Kuddah, and Heavy
- Sunsets, and rises for that matter
- Realizing that you’re driving 5 miles under the speed limit
- Driving, foot out the window, 70 degrees out, and Mae (or an equally amazing CD) in the CD player.
- Cold weather and all it entails: wool socks, fleeces, beanies, gloves, long sleeve shirts
- Philip Yancey books
- Mark Driscoll books and sermons
- Barnes and Nobles, browsing, never buying
- “The Irresistible Revolution”
- Singing to the Lord
- Babies
- Chinese babies
- People who adopt kids
- Hugs
- Christmas music
- Watching people do what they do/ be in their element
- Gymnastics
- Rock climbing
- Traveling
- REI garage sales
- Habitat for Humanity garage sales
- Sitting on the Luther house porch as a storm rolls in, playing guitar
- Colby’s hammock, with a good book
- Waking up with my face in a textbook
- Knowing that I never have to read another textbook unless I want to
- Finding out you have more money in your bank account than you thought
- Painting, even though I’m terrible at it
- Grammar and spelling
- Barefoot grass
- Heather’s dessert
- My Prana pants
- Successfully resisting temptations
- Brad Smith, every time
- Watching and discussing films that are well-made and deal with relevant issues
- Finding Jesus in everyday things
- Cold showers after mowing the yard in a Texas summer
- Diving boards
- Encouraging notes (especially when hand-written)
- Chinese people
- Dads being men and playing with their kids with no regard for anyone else who may be watching
- Seeing how innocent and peaceful people look when they’re sleeping (not in a weird way)
- Spooning
- When I look at a close friend and know that we’re both thinking the same thing without a word being spoken
- Laughing until I’m red, crying, and my side hurts (all three)
- The Body of Christ!
- Hearing the voice of the Shepherd
- Dancing, on the rare occasion that I feel it
- Naps
- Sleeping in and not feeling guilty about it
- Massages!
- Any joke that goes a tasteful direction that I wasn’t expecting (usually results in a loud, obnoxious burst of laughter)
- Crunchy, homemade cookies
- Shower curtains that are a foot longer than the length of the tub (as opposed to short ones)
- Snow skiing
- Road trips to no specific destination
- Chicken E
- When lights stay green longer than you thought they would
- Thinking about Jon’s writing on all the popular kids’ names on his 6th grade notebook in a white-out pen
- Peeps
- Doing flips
- Cody Kimmel and Matt Graham opening for Jimmy Needham at Coffee Station before the entire world fell in love with the three.
- When the gas gauge reads full
- When people leave comments on my blog
- Pretty eyes
- Live shows
life’s a mist
There are times in each of our lives that are reminded, be it rudely or pleasantly, of how blessed we are. Some of us experience these times more often than others.
Last night Jon and I were driving home from a free dinner in my reliable, air conditioned car discussing how blessed we are. We have parents who love us, our needs are more than sufficiently met, we’re educated, we have a ridiculously amazing group of friends, and the list goes on. I’m often disgusted by the fact that I can’t come close to adequately thanking God for all the blessings He has dumped all over me. I think one way we can thank Him in this short life is by passing the blessings He’s given us on to others.
The other day I was reading my National Geographic (Aug. ‘06) and it had a chart displayed the odds of U.S. residents dying in various events.
Hot weather: 1 in 13,729
Bicycling accident: 1 in 4,919
Drowning: 1 in 1,008
Motor vehicle accident: 1 in 84
Cancer: 1 in 7
Heart disease: 1 in 5
Odds of dying: 1 in 1
The Bible tells us over and over that we shouldn’t put too much stock in the things going on in this life. Our lives on Earth are compared to things like a vapor, a tent, a mist, and other temporary things of the sort. I pray that Jesus would allow me to truly, truly see my life as such, and live it accordingly.
I received an email this morning informing me that sometime not long after Jon and I were driving home last night, one of our friends in College Station died in a train accident.
We are so blessed. Not just Jon and myself, but you the reader too. Not just the reader, but every person with whom the reader has come in contact in the past week - or with whom the reader will come in contact in the weeks to come. I do not even claim to understand Jesus’ grace, but I am, undoubtedly, eternally thankful for it.
This post is dedicated (as lame as it is) to, and in loving memory of, Walker Best.
LASIK - Behind Closed Doors: a post-op tell-all
It really happened. I really woke up at 3:30 to eat breakfast just before getting in a total strangers vehicle. The man drove me to a place I’d been only a few times before, and as he drove away I knew: there was no turning back.
I emptied out my pockets, took of my glasses, put on my hairnet, and allowed about a dozen different people to insert around three sets of eye drops each as they so desired. After a few tests, waiting, and tons of eye drops, my eyes were numb… I thought.
The first unexpected turn of events happened when a man told me he was going to write on my eyeball to aid procedures during surgery. This was a new concept to me, and all I could think of was how funny it must have looked, and Heather Hendrick.
Once I actually entered the surgery room things became even less clear than then were when I was asked to take of my glasses. Mainly because the great majority of the appx. 30 minutes were spent with my eyes closed, either voluntarily or by tape. I was left to use my remaining senses to decipher the goings on in the room. The machines made all kinds of terrible sounds, like a mild-mannered semi-automatic cap gun. The first bench I laid on was moderately uncomfortable, but the second made up for it. They did all kinds of weird things to my eyes that I was, quite literally, in the dark on. There came a point when I stopped trying to figure out what was being done to me, and I started listening to the various dialogues taking place in the room. It reminded me very much of Grey’s Anatomy.
Dr Boothe was highly frustrated with some of his interns for their inability to do things the way he asked. He made many mentions of writing people up and treats to fire people by the end of the week. Meanwhile, in the back room, Intern A and Intern C reminisce about the previous nights happenings, and how they heard that Desk Girl D is prego.
It was at the second bed that I realized my eyes weren’t as numb as I’d once thought. The best way I can describe it is that something was pushing on my eye pretty hard, and though my sight was going out pretty quick, I was supposed to keep my eyes on the center of the lights and not make a face as if whatever was all up in my eye didn’t hurt.
Then I was led out of the room in a trust-walk sort of way, and after about ten minutes, the scales were taken off my eyes and I could see! Not perfectly, but at least I was certain I hadn’t gone blind. Tomorrow I get the protective contact lenses removed and the vision post-removal is supposed to be great. Hopefully by that point I can lay off the eye drops. I’ve been doing them (about) every ten minutes since I got back from the doctor (save that heavenly four hour nap). Rest assured however, that said nap wasn’t until I’d waited 5 hours after surgery. And good news, there’s been no word on the fan thing, so don’t worry about taking them out of your houses for fear of my coming to visit. Finally, I plan on wearing these goggles long after the required time frame.
I’ll leave you with a close up of what my eyes looked like when I first got home to my camera. The black dots are ink, and the rest is just eye stuff… I don’t know. Here’s looking at you.
Heather, read at your own risk
LASIK.
I don’t exactly remember what it stands for, but it basically stands for eyeball surgery.
If you’re a patient of the one and only super-celebrity Dr. Boothe, then it stands for an extremely early eyeball surgery. How early you ask? Well I’m pretty sure I’m getting picked up at 4:00am. The mystery man picking me up couldn’t have been more unclear, but he’s supposed to call me. The only people who should call that early are drunk people who don’t even know they’re calling, but I digress.
I was just reading over the post-op instructions I was given the other day at the doctor. Some (actually, most) of the instructions are fairly ridiculous. I’ll list a few, and you all can look forward to my next post, which I plan on titling “what they never told you about LASIK”
Until I’m told otherwise, I’m:
- putting four different sets of eyedrops in my eyes in time incriments ranging from evert 10 minutes to every hour
- wearing goggles while outside for a week
- not sleeping under a ceiling fan or using any type of fan for 90 days after surgery
- staying awake for the first five hours after surgery
These are all quotes straight from the page. Lord, please let these be gross exaggerations.
Stay tuned, the next post will be typed as I look through goggles. If ol’ Boothe will allow it, you better believe there’s gonna be a picture.
the room
Here’s your first (and probably last) look at my new bedroom in the new apartment. It looks like that. There are, however, a few exceptions; slight differences between what you see in the picture and reality.
For instance, chair isn’t empty, I’m currently sitting in it. And the three pictures on the top shelf of my new bookshelf (which I love) are now leaning on a Nalgene each, as sort of a picture frame, if you will. Perhaps the biggest exception is this: there is presently a stinkin’ cable wire running from the wall opposite my desk (wall not pictured) to my computer. While I am grateful that it provides me with an internet connection, I simply cannot understand why the man - who took a week to get his butt over here to install it - thought it was a good place for that cable when I have the same wall jack directly behind my computer.
Why didn’t I tell him otherwise? Well I was slightly busy being at the renowned Dr Boothe’s LASIK center for nearly five hours. I don’t really want to be many places for five hours, and in case I was ever unsure about that LASIK center’s ability to hold my attention for such a length of time, I confirmed it today. It failed. Miserably. But that’s just the price you have to pay to get your eyes fixed. That and a few thousand dollars.
I see that this post has taken an unexpected turn, and is not about LASIK (no pun intended). If you don’t feel like commenting, I understand. This was yet another poor post. At least I have internet now. Maybe they’ll start improving.
right there, huh?
There are so many things to like about our new apartment: central air, a dishwasher, huge closets, and the list just goes on. But there are also some things that just don’t make sense no matter how hard three aggie minds try.
Why does Mikey’s room not get cold like the rest of the apartment?
Why does mine and Jon’s sink water pressure resemble that of one of those water fountains that you can’t drink from because it only pushes water out one centimeter high?
And above all, why in the world is our fireplace so terribly off centered?
Sure, it makes for a nice, contemporary photograph for a perpetually trendy blog, but does it even come close to making sense? Clearly it does not. I’m open to suggestions.
This entry was posted from a laptop in Arlington, TX; courtesy of Kyle and Melinda Oliver.
D.O. in D-town
First, sorry for what I assume is the huge text… this isn’t my computer, more on that as you read on.
Well we successfully moved all of our countless material possessions from College Station to Dallas. Mikey and the Mills crew went ahead and dominated the whole loading of the stock trailer. I felt like a jerk because while they were loading up all my stuff, I was playing my guitar, eating free food, and going bowling… all in the name of the Lord.
Here’s the current internet situation here at The Gate (that’s the name of our apartment… trendy huh?). We called Comcast today to let them know that we were ready to get some world wide web lovin’ in our pad, and they assured us that in merely two weeks, they would bring a kit to our door that we could install ourselves… is that a joke? I don’t really care how busy you are Comcast, two weeks is perhaps the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I could walk to your office and pick up said box myself, walk back, and nowhere near two weeks would have passed. Good gracious. So I’m sure you’re wondering how it is that I’m updating my blog without having the internet in my room. Well Jon got this amazing new MacBook (that I pray daily I won’t covet) that has the ability to borrow wireless internet from our kind, unknowing neighbors. Thanks Bradley.
Finally, I’m learning all too quickly how expensive life is. My parents will be thrilled to read that (assuming they read my blog at all). I’m attempting to get a job at REI, but I fear that it may not allow me the necessity of paying the bills. I’ll find out more on that tomorrow, but you may not find out until later, because of the internet situation.
sorority shirts
Some things lose value with time, some things quicker than others, while other things gain value with time.
The second you drive your new car off the lot the value drops like it’s hot… unless it’s one of those cars that end up being a classic and then said car turns out to be worth exponentially more than the amount which you paid for it (assuming it’s well-kept, but I digress).
I, however, am coming less from a financial point of view and more from the amount of significance you place on any given material possession. Case in point: sorority shirts.
I used to view these tees as a status symbol (though I’ve never admitted it until now). Clearly he with the most cotton was the coolest person around, and the one with whom I certainly wanted to associate myself. Oh how the times have changed! That which I used hold in such high regard I now view as, among other things, in the way.
The event that sparked this thought process was packing up the entire house here on Luther Street. I’ve made lots of piles of things, and one of those piles is to be donated to Twin Cities Mission (because let’s face it, I’ve got way too much stuff). I noticed that of the clothes I dubbed unworthy to remain in my wardrobe, sorority shirts boasted the highest percentage. Then I thought, “there is no way I would have tossed these gems any time in the first two years of college.” The shirts that did make the cut, much to my mother’s dismay, are the shirts that I’ve had since high school. They’re softer, and they’ve proven themselves worthy.
One thing that I hope never loses it’s value though, is the picture I posted with this post. It truly is priceless.
a Hoodoo freestyle
I’m gonna spit a rhyme about tha Hoodoo
but I couldn’t spit and it get heard by you
So I gotta type it on this keyboard
on my same machine as my e-sword.
The Hoodoo is a van I drove ’round town
the above pic is of the Hoodoo broke down
I drove ’round Brenham, pickin up my clique
the Hoodoo got so hot, it make you wanna stick
Ya head out the window to catch some of the breeze
when I pulled up, my boyz holla “please,
why you gotta pick us up in the blue van?
why you trippin’ and not drivin’ the white one man?”
I quickly would reply,
look my boys in the eye,
asking why they hatin’ on my sweet ride
I drive ’round town,
throwin’ hata’s down
When they look upon my ride wit a frown
That’s about all I’ve got to spit
it’s hard sometimes when I don’t got my clique
to hit a beat on the Hoodoo walls
as I fear that a window’s gonna break and fall.
I thought I’d share my final post about Brenham and dedicate it to the Hoodoo. Freestyling is a artform that has probably never been written until now. It’s verbal, improv poetry and the kids in the hood are amazing at it. They usually spit about things that aren’t very edifying, but they rhyme, and they impress me. So, I hope you all enjoyed the Hoodoo freestlye as much as I enjoyed driving it around this summer.