Oh, So That's a Stagecoach

So this weekend made me realize something. I’m getting old.

I went to Stagecoach which is a weekend-long country music festival. The first night I drank way too much. Lots of Sex on the Beach and stumbling. The second day was Hangover Day. We walked around to all the different camps, visiting different friends and family in the blistering heat. By the time we made it to our spot in front of the main stage (they called it the Mane Stage – you know, like a horses’ mane? Cute, huh?) I was feeling really unwell. But after the sun went down and my body temperature lowered to a reasonable level, I began to perk up and had a great time listening to Sugarland and Keith Urban. Sugarland was by far my favorite, they were amazing!

The third day was much better. I’d recovered mostly, hydrated often, and we didn’t do so much dang walking. But then I drank too much again. I don’t regret it. I had a great time. Dancing and singing our little hearts out to Jason Aldeen, Brooks n Dunn, and Toby Keith. I lost my voice, combined alcohol, flirted with boys, played an embarrasingly horrible game of beer pong before finally falling into a stupor when we got home at 2:30 in the morning.

But, oh, today.

Today I feel like death. I actually feel like a 90-year-old woman with a variety of health issues that involve failing organs and smoker’s lungs. My heart beats at an erratic pace, my stomach hates me, my head is fuzzy, I feel like I may start wheezing at any moment, and my body aches in a way that goes far beyond sore. I feel like I’ve been beaten. Severely.

I can’t imagine everyone who went to Stagecoach feels this way. Because they were all 21. And I’m not. My 26-year-old body doesn’t recover at the same pace nowadays. In horse terms, I’m at more of a trot than a full gallop.

But now, as I let my eyelids (that feel as though they weigh about 20 pounds each) slowly fall, I drift off to the twangy sounds of Coors Light, Wranglers, and patriotism bordering on insanity. Because that is the American way.

'Night, y'all.

UPDATE: My mom read this post and was sort of appalled by my mention of Sex on the Beach. I meant the alcoholic beverage. Hence it being capitalized. I didn't capitalize it cuz I find it an important thing to do in the middle of the desert where it doesn't make much since anyway, I capitalized it cuz it's a name. Of a drink. So, just to be clear, drink. Not lots of actual sex on some made up beach. Drink.
-Age

Relax, Just Do It

I’ve always been a long shower taker. This is simply a fact of my life. One of the more significant one’s which may seem strange…cuz it is.

It’s not strange that I do it. I think it’s perfectly normal and that everyone else can just suck it but apparently it’s strange enough that all my friends and family have noticed and mentioned it…over and over again.

Well, “mentioned it” is maybe not the right phrasing as my dad used to pound on the bathroom door with all his might and yell, “You’re using up all the hot water! If you’re not out of there in two minutes I’m turning the water off!” He practically said, “So help me God…” but never actually did.

I always knew he was bluffing.

I also always took showers in the evening while everyone else took them in the morning so cut me some friggin slack! I loved taking showers at the end of the day, it helped me to wind down. It was a ritual of mine. It relaxed me.

All of the hullabaloo (yup, I wrote it) was just unnecessary. Leave me be.

In 2010, I realize that taking long showers raises water conservation issues and my mind has not been able to justify my long showers any longer. Which is sad. But environmentally responsible blah blah blah. Can’t I just be selfish about one thing? I recycle. I reduce. I even reuse, not bath water cuz that’s gross, but I still do “my part.” Why can’t I take the occasional entire water heater-sized shower?

I mean, at least I’m clean, right? Plus, I’m much nicer when I’m relaxed. I’m less likely to punch or kick or bite so really, it’s necessary for everyone’s safety.

Anyone else have any habits they love but know they should break?

-Age

Blessings Abound

With the latest crisis in Haiti, I’ve been thinking about my life and how blessed I really am. The Bible says that the Lord will not give us more than we can handle. I live a pretty unproblematic, simple life in Sunny Southern California with amazing friends and family that will always take care of me so I think…God must not think I can handle very much. This line of thinking helps to keep me humble and to be a Counter of Blessings. Literally:

Blessing #1:
I work at a daycare and one of the parents works for the Department of Public Health. She set me up with an appointment to get my booster shots for my Peace Corps physical without having to pay! It would have cost over $100 otherwise!

Blessing #2:
My dentist (James Jesse DDS) offered to give me a check-up, make copies of my x-rays, and fill out the Peace Corps paperwork for free! Free!

Blessing #3:
My best friends are letting me rent a room for $300 less a month than I was paying before so I can save $$$. Plus, they’re awesome and living with them is going to be a lot of fun!

Blessing #4:
I just had some espresso frozen yogurt.

Thank you, Lord, for loving me so much. He loves you too.

Here's a list of ways you can help with the crisis in Haiti (via It's Unbeweavable): HERE!

Tell me about the different ways you've been blessed lately. Leave it in the comment section.



-Age

Holy Moly, I'm Going to the Peace Corps!!!

Lately I’ve been feeling a bit lost. I even started a blog based on my “not so sure what the heck I’m doing”-ness but recently I’ve been given a push in the right direction. A shove I think would actually be more accurate. My prayers have been answered and the Lord told me, not so subtly, what He has planned.

Growing up, I always wanted to move somewhere that was far away and extremely different from what I knew and loved. I was excited by the adventure, by the opportunity to grow, and I wanted to fall in love with something, whether it be the new places I would visit, the people I would meet, or my old home that I was given the opportunity to fully appreciate through my travels. New York was at the top of my list in my late teens. Italy is the country I tried desperately to gain access to in my early twenties. And when I recently finished college and received my teaching credential, I considered something far more extreme.

In early December of this crazy year, I started my Peace Corps application. I thought, “what a great opportunity to experience all of the things I’ve been craving while at the same time helping others and making a much needed difference in this world.” The more I learned about the program the more I wanted to join. After completing the surprisingly lengthy application process, I was almost immediately contacted by my recruiter to come to LA for an interview and informative seminar. I started to get excited…and a little nervous. OK. A lot nervous.

Before my interview, I told my dad about my plans. I expected him to point out all of the cons but what I was not expecting was for him to ignore all of the pros I tossed into the conversation. Basically, he was adamant about me not going. This was a bit of a let down and I started to quickly doubt myself and my choice. Don’t get me wrong, my dad has my best interests at heart and I know that the thought of my leaving for 27 months wasn’t too thrilling. Luckily, I have amazing friends.

I use words like amazing and spectacular and awesome far too often so when the time comes for those words to actually mean something, they fall flat. I cannot express in words the depth of my friend’s love for me and my love for them. I am literally awed by them, surprisingly touched by their compassion, forever bonded to them and there’s pretty much nothing they can do about it.



They quickly rallied behind me: picking me up, dusting me off, and filling me with so much encouragement I could have burst. They would miss me but that was a small price to pay for the ultimate benefit of such an amazing experience. The Lord has truly blessed me with a balance of friends and family that I sometimes feel I don’t deserve, though I’ll try to.

Anyway, it usually takes 9-12 months from the time you turn in your application to the time you get on a plane and depart for your destination. That’s if you get accepted. I was so sure I would be waiting months to hear anything after my interview if I did get accepted. What I was not expecting was for my recruiter, Lindsay, to whip a piece of paper off her desk and inform me that a spot was available and she wanted me to take it. I would be leaving in 5 months. Uhhhhhhh…….

I may have started hyperventilating after the meeting. She basically told me all that I needed to do, as quickly as possible, in order to receive my golden ticket and fly to…wait for it…EASTERN EUROPE in a few months.



I quickly found my Peace Corps map and looked up the countries we serve in that area of the world. I’d never even heard of some. Did you know there was a country called Moldova? Azerbaijan? Me either. But I could be potentially spending more than two years living there!

The next few months will be a whirlwind but I plan to keep updating this constantly changing blog of mine to keep those interested well informed. Your encouragement and support, opinions and advice through this blog will make my day! Will make my 27 months actually! Love you all, big and small. (I wasn’t calling any of you fat, I just got carried away)