Lately I have been watching TV while working out at the gym. One afternoon, Man Vs. Food was on, which I found to be an ironic accompaniment to my elliptical-ing. However, another recent afternoon found me watching an episode of Oprah featuring dramatic weight loss stories. Much more appropriate. I felt very motivated to work hard, and then of course to analyze my own diet and exercise habits.

Now let me just start by saying that I eat pretty healthy, and since I was active as a swimmer for years and years, I had a pretty good base to start from when I began working out on my own occasionally throughout late high school and college. I actually like exercising, which aids the process, but I also love food. People often look at me and say things like, "Well, you can just eat whatever you want and you wouldn't gain weight." Thanks, but it's so not true. I found this out in the years in between when I quit swimming and when I decided to try walking/running (okay, more on the walking side of that equation). I may be fit, but I still need to take care of myself.

The resolution that arose out of the Oprah show is that I am currently trying to eat fresh veggies with my daily lunch sandwich instead of potato chips. Note that I did NOT say I am giving up potato chips in toto...just on an everyday basis. :-) I also have been eating my sandwich on a wrap instead of bread, but much to my chagrin, this morning I did a comparison of the nutrition information of the two and found the wrap to be much worse than a single piece of bread and only a little better than two. Oops. Consider this a PSA to not be swayed by wraps. "But it's green and has spinach in it! That's healthy! And it's so flat! It MUST have fewer carbs!" Not necessarily the case. There's nothing wrong with a good loaf of whole grain bread. But a wrap or four won't kill me or derail my efforts to be healthy. I'm trying to be less flippant about sweets, too. I don't eat them all that often, which usually makes it easy to convince myself it's okay "just this once," which may or may not actually be only once in a given span of time.

What I struggle with here is finding balance between eating foods that I enjoy, eating enough food that I am full and satisfied, and eating healthy foods without being racked with guilt. I have never been overweight by any means, but sometimes I let little things get to me too much. I need to keep finding solace in my good faith efforts to take care of myself.

It also helps that I have been making myself adorable little containerfuls of veggies at the beginning of every week so I can just grab one and go. Today was cucumber, yellow bell pepper, and sugar snap peas. If I were a good blogger, I would have taken a picture, but alas. Maybe one to come soon.

P.S. Last Wednesday, Hubby and I went for a walk together before work, and we saw an older couple walking, too. I told Hubby that if only his socks were pulled up higher we could be JUST like them. ;-)

So.

It is August, and for the first time in my life, that does not mean that I am going back to school. That doesn't feel as strange as I thought it might, because a lot of things are about to start happening anyway! Both my job and my church kind of function on the school calendar. This coming Sunday, the day before the citywide first day of school, is the first week of the Sunday School year, and the following Sunday we will start a new evening Bible study. Also, I will be helping with a Wednesday night preschool music and missions class, which also, of course, follows the school year calendar. And as far as my job, in addition to my work in the office, I will be starting to serve as a coordinator for our Parent Parties.

I don't think I've talked much about my job on here. Let me expound. I work for a Christian-based non-profit organization that is located in a lower income neighborhood, sort of sandwiched between two clusters of public housing. The organization has evolved over its 20-some years based on what the community has needed, and it currently consists of three programs. One is a thrift store that both provides goods and employment for members of the community. Its premise is dignity: if you can't afford a pair of shoes, come work for store credit to earn them! The store promotes similar programs specifically for back-to-school supplies and Christmas toys. We also have a preschool, and the aforementioned program called Parent Parties.

Parent Parties evolved out of the realization that low-income schools tend to have low parent involvement. Two of the ladies I work with developed a curriculum that encourages parents to be present at their kids' schools and teaches parenting tactics. They promote these as parties (complete with snacks!) to bump up attendance, which has proven effective. No parents want to go to meeting after meeting, especially parents who may be young or who may not have done well in school themselves. We market and sell kits of the party curriculum across the country, but we also help put them on in Title I schools around Huntsville, which is where I come in. It will be a bit strange teaching parenting tactics, as I've never been a parent, but as I attended and helped with some of the parties this past spring, I realized that I have a lot of great anecdotes from my own parents to share. I may not have been a parent, but I've been a child, and I think I turned out pretty well.

I have a few other irons in the fire that I'm waiting to find out about, as well, which could make the fall feel even more like a "back to school" time of change. Hubby will be traveling some for work, which just happened to coincide with back to school time. Most of my friends are still on a more traditional school schedule, either literally going back to school or starting jobs that begin in the fall, so I'm still very attuned to the coming sea change. All in all, I still feel like I've definitely had a summer, and that things are definitely about to fire back up.

Does the whole world work like this, or am I in a unique position? Are our kids so central that we can't help but function on their schedules? And also, why do we call it fall when it is still 100 degrees outside?! That might be the biggest question. :-)

I somehow have come to equate romance (in the also non-male/female relationship senses of the word) with an element of surprise. I don't exactly know where this came from in my life, as I can count on one hand the number of times I remember being intentionally surprised. One of those times was at my sixteenth birthday party at Jerry's Catfish House in Florence, MS.

(Yes, it is shaped like an igloo.)

My mom had brought a candle, but they didn't have cake to bring me, so they instead crafted a gigantic birthday hushpuppy. For some reason, this occasion, and the subsequent incredulous look on my face, was not documented, yet I still remember it. (For the record, the hushpuppy was so rotund that it did not get cooked through, so we were sadly unable to consume it.) It made an impact because it was such a surprise, which I think corroborates my theory that surprise = romantic.

I think I'll blame it on Hollywood, too. You know, every romantic comedy has some moment where the guy surprises the girl and then they fall in love and live happily ever after. It makes us all want that. Commercials do it, too, though mostly advocating surprise gifts of jewelry. When I think about it, though, it is weird that I always think I want to be surprised. I am such a planner that I'm really not sure I'd be able to handle a surprise even if one came my way! Throughout college, I always harbored secret hopes that then-boyfriend-now-hubby would show up with flowers on a random Friday, or that I would walk out of a class and find him standing there to meet me. They normally occurred when I hadn't heard from him for awhile (read: an hour) or was unable to get in touch with him, allowing me to believe he might be ignoring me because he was secretly on his way to me! These pipe dreams had several flaws, one of which is that we shared a Google calendar. The second is that it often took long conversations and comparisons of those calendars to find a time when we could PLAN a visit, let alone spontaneously create one. And granted, in spite of coming up with all of the sweet times he could appear for me, I never did it to him either. I contemplated it a few times, but I think it might have stressed him out more than it would have brought him enjoyment. There were a few times when we made spur-of-the-moment trips, which is kind of like a surprise, but they usually came about with full consent and approval of the other.

This is not a bad thing. I finally convinced myself that when I couldn't get in touch with then-boyfriend-now-hubby, it probably just meant he was doing something boring like working in a computer lab. :-)

But yesterday, after all this time, he surprised me! I was having my eyes checked at the Walmart Vision Center (by a surprisingly pleasant and competent doctor) and texted him to let him know the outcome. My plan was to remain at Walmart and do the grocery shopping that hadn't gotten done over the weekend due to a wonderful visit with my parents. Well, as I as contemplating a bag of oranges (it's not orange season anymore, but I have really been enjoying them, which is rather unfortunate), I sensed a being behind me. After the initial jump, I realized it was HUBBY! He left work when he got my text message and came to keep me company while I shopped. It might sound trivial, but it was so romantic to me, and I couldn't stop smiling the whole time we shopped.

I guess THAT'S why I equate surprises with romance. Though I suppose I shouldn't get used to it, because then it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?

I have never handled rejection well. Not that anyone really does, but I feel like I am particularly bad at it. Part of my problem is that for much of my life (read: elementary and middle school) I was such a nerd that I mostly got everything I applied for or wanted in terms of school. (Note that I'm not saying anything about socially here. Social rejection is a whole 'nother beast that I'm not even touching here.) Therefore, when it came time to try for things that I was not as likely to get, I had mixed results.

Swimming was one place where I learned what it felt like to not meet my own expectations. I was always a solid swimmer, but (for the most part) not spectacular. I sure loved it, and I worked hard, but I wasn't a great competitor. People often told me to visualize my races...so I would, and I would visualize myself winning, and then end up crying in the locker room. I never quite got a grasp on how to manage my expectations so as to be satisfied with whatever result came.

In high school, I also tried for a few things that I failed to achieve. I was nominated for Homecoming court and who's who positions multiple times, and never won. I auditioned for an acting part in a history production and was only chosen to be an extra. And the real trial by fire through which I learned about rejection came in the form of 2004's Youth Legislature.

I had been involved in Youth Legislature for several years at that point and decided to run for office (Speaker Pro Tempore of the House of Representatives, to be exact). I put together a speech, made posters, solicited an introductory speaker who would speak highly of me, and came as far out of my shell to shake hands and schmooze as I could. My speech went well, I had a lot of fun...

...and then I lost.

I lost because my opponent went to a school who, in addition to its sister all-girls school, brought the largest delegation to Youth Leg. I lost because he was popular. To add insult to injury, the victor himself did the politician thing and came to shake my hand after results were out and said, "You really should have won. Your speech was so much better than mine." I was SO ANGRY. I was hurt, and disappointed in myself, and angry. I probably sucked it up and gave him some sort of superficial polite answer, but inside I was seething.

But the outcome of all of this is that I did not die. In fact, I sucked it up again and asked him for a nomination to an officer position, with which he obliged me. I didn't love it, but it was a step, and I certainly did like it. I'm pretty sure the experience even manifested itself in a college admissions essay or two.

A similar thing happened the same year with the aforementioned history acting gig. I ended up getting to fill in at several different posts and had a blast doing them all. I realized I probably would have been bored doing the same spiel every night and had more fun with it in the long run.

Yet even though the outcomes of those ostensible failures were positive, I still struggle with convincing myself to take the leap and try for things that are not guaranteed. I've had a few job rejections during and since college, and I always struggle with not letting them affect my self-worth. It is so much less scary to take the safe roads and stay where I know I am successful.

I ought to realize, though, that staying in that place will probably keep me from being as successful as I could be. Who knows but that the next place, the place that seems so uncomfortable from my current vantage point, might just be exactly the place where I am called to be? If I never leap, how will I ever know?

I am reminded of the verse in Esther where Mordecai tells her, "[... I]f you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father's family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?" And Esther responds beautifully. She first goes to the Lord in fasting and then takes a leap, follows her uncle's terrifying instructions to a T, and says, "if I perish, I perish."

You know what? My risks won't even lead me to perish. The risks I have been called to take in my life have been so un-scary in light of what Esther was called to do. Why, then, is it so hard for me to adopt her "if I perish, I perish" attitude? Why, when I know the beauty and transformation that can come from leaping, am I so afraid to take the first step? If I come to my "for such a time as this," will I know it? Will I respond? Will I perish? Is it now?

Tuesday, I got a haircut.

I grew my hair out for the wedding, though it still was long only by my own standards, not most people's. I had gotten it cut since then, but I went to what shall remain a nameless salon's school and wasn't super happy with it, even from the day I got it cut.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love the concept of the salon school. A pretty good haircut for an inexpensive price? Sign me up! But in practice, I have now gotten two haircuts there and been frustrated both times. First of all, it takes a looong time. The stylists don't have as much confidence as a seasoned stylist, so they do everything very meticulously, which is good for my hair but bad for my patience. Also, they have to have everything checked by a supervisor, who may or may not be readily accessible when she is needed. That lack of confidence (for which I really can't blame them) is even apparent in the way their fingers feel on my head. For example: I LOVE having my hair washed. It is my favorite part of a haircut. I love when they sort of massage your head as they lather the shampoo up. But the stylists at the school do it so softly it hardly even feels good. :-(

A final frustration with the salon school is that they charge extra if you have your hair styled, meaning that if they so much as touch it with a flat iron, it nearly doubles the price. They'll blow it dry, but if you have ever seen my hair after a blowdry, you know that this does not do much for my looks. At that moment, I could be a member of an 80s hair band. So when I leave from getting a haircut at the school, I have big hair. And having big hair makes me grouchy. So not only have I sat in a chair, sweating under the haircut robe, for close to two hours, but I also have puffy hair. Therefore, I decided to try to find a real salon for this haircut. I was way tired of the wedding length.

I found a salon online that had been voted best salon in Huntsville by a news channel's viewer poll. My cut only took about half an hour, and the shampoo was LOVELY. I had missed those fingers digging into my scalp. It was reasonably priced, and I left with a normal looking head of hair, rather than an Axel Rose 'do. It was a much more enjoyable experience, even though it wasn't, like, the BEST haircut I've ever gotten. I'll give it another shot. But either way, it has corroborated my decision that the salon school is not for me. I'm not knockin' it, and I may go again if I ever need or want to save the money, but for now, I'm enjoying my "real" salon cut.

Has anyone else had a similar experience? What's your favorite part of getting a haircut?