Many, but One

Yesterday I went to the coffee shop for another hot, possibly long and boring shift (fewer people have been coming in. I guess hot coffee is the last thing on their minds during this heat wave). I was suprised to see such a beautiful thing take place.

I was busy doing something behind the counter and didn't notice a couple that came in, until the man began to talk to me. It only took a second for me to realize that he was blind. We began to talk about what he was craving, and finally settled on a sandwich and an iced mocha. He then turned to his "sweetie" (as he called her) and asked what she wanted. She was a paraplegic. The irony hadn't hit me yet, I just told them to have a seat and I would be happy to bring their drinks and food to their table.

I served their food and returned to my chores, but I couldn't help to but be drawn to watching them. I felt like a peeping Tom or intruder spying on something so special. The man would hold the sandwich up for his wife to eat. She would direct him on where to get napkins, etc. Their conversation reflected not only a dependance on each other, but a joy of each other. It goes without saying their relationship was based on much more than physical appearance, yet depended on the physical abilites of the other. They spent a couple of hours in conversation, and then proceeded to leave. He actually walked first, with his cane and wife directing the way.

This was just a normal outing for them, but for me is spoke so deeply of how the body of Christ operates (or should operate). I love to think that I am fully functional, capable, and even gifted to do whatever I put my mind to. In the times that I don't believe that, I elevate the gifteness of others to "oh, to be like them"; and, sigh, often view some as just a bump on a log. "Oh, for them to be like me".

But the truth.......

"The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts.....if the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? ......The eye cannot say to the hand, "I don't need you!" ..... those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable... God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it." 1 Corinthians 12:12-26.

Oh, to be more like that amazing couple.

Spare the Air! and bring it to me.

I hear that one aspect of a quality blog is consistency. I'm sure that is not the only thing that disqualifies me from inclusion in the world of "good" blogs, but who's grading? Only me.

So I really don't have much exciting to say except for things I have already said. It's hot here. Really, really, hot. And we don't have AC. And we look like classic Alabamians. Right now we are sitting outside our house scantily clad (Bryan shirtless), chairs facing the front window, watching the TV inside. I do have my Mac in my lap. Does that redeem me?

Yesterday our thermometer - inside our house - read 100 degrees. Outside it read 105 in the shade. So we fled to the air-conditioned mall along with the rest of the county. You know how it is at the Galleria around Christmas? Fighting over parking spaces and Food Court tables......I guess Christmas in July really means something here in California.

I know I've already blogged about it, but I thought that the Silicon Valley graded a little higher in the smarts category than we Southerners. I mean, there is a solution. I even think that an air-conditioning unit might be easier to work than computers and robots and other Silicon Valley techy stuff. Am I wrong? I don't know if the people here like to play it tough (a lot of women here really believe in natural child birth), if they consider it a luxury rather than necessity, if they are more environmentally aware..... I think it is all of the above. Speaking of being environmentally aware....

Friday was declared "Spare the Air Day". It was a beautiful concept - public transit was free for the day! Bryan decided to head to San Francisco to work for a change of atmosphere, and I decided to meet him later in the afternoon. Because of the rising heat I decided to go sooner than later (the trains have AC). I happened to hop on the one train that the AC had just broken. "Hang in there folks", the conductor said, "as we stop for a few minutes to get it working again. Please get off if you are feeling light-headed or woosy". Oh, this was me. Did I mention that the free fare caused it to be standing room only? Like, big hairy man's armpit in my face standing room only. I was nearly holding my breath, literally sweating buckets (and I got all dressed up like we were going on a date!), beginning to understand and empathise with claustrophobics. But no one was moving so I decided to suck it up. The train finally started again, but the mechanics had worked to no avail. The temperature, along with the BO was rising. It seems that everyone was waiting to get off in Millbrae, where the light rail was. When we finally arrived you would have thought someone gassed the train or something - everyone bailed and ran to the light rail. Sadly, I met my hot date looking and smelling like a wet rat.

Thankfully, he still liked me, and we had a great time. It was the first time we visited the Mission District. We had some of the best Thai food I think I have ever had at Osha, and had an excellent mocha and real maccihato at Ritual Coffee. They know coffee. One of their baristas won 2nd place in the National Barista Competition (yeah, they have that). Oh, to be his understudy. :) Sitting there though, I suddenly felt so plain in what I thought was a cute Gap shirt and khakis. I spoke "blank slate", when everyone else seemed to scream "vintage! I'm a walking piece of art! how cool am I ?!".

I really want to blog about the deeper things we are experiencing. There really is more going on than heat, redneckness, and day trips, but I will just blame my lack of vulnerability on the temperature. It's not fun to think very hard when you are already sweating.

Home Ownership and the Silicon Valley. Jumbo Shrimp?

For many people here in the Valley it isn't, but for Bryan and I, owning a home in the Silicon Valley is nothing more than an oxymoron.

Yesterday I was taking a nice little stroll through Mtn. View and I stumbled across a cute little cottage for sale. It looked like maybe 3 bedrooms, 1 or 2 baths, tiny yard, but so cute. I knew it would be out of our range (as if we even have a range out here), but I called about it anyway. The friendly agent let me know "yes, the 3/2 cottage is 1.2". For those of you scratching your heads, that is indeed ONE POINT TWO MILLION GEORGE WASHINGTON'S! It's funny how the "point two" part of it sounds like nothing, and yet that is a whole NICE Southern house. I should be used to it by now, we've been here nearly a year, but my jaw dropped nonetheless. I let her know that the price was "a little out of our range", trying not to sound like the little kid that I suddenly felt like. Of course she proceeds to ask me just what my range is. How am I supposed to respond? Even if I cut the price of that tiny place in half I am still way out of our "range". But I said it anyway, "oh, more like $450 - $500". I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I saw the first property she sent me via email: http://www.lindasoto.com/PropertyDetails?ls=REIL&pid=630981&show_virtual_tour=yes&show_description=yes&show_address=yes .
Be sure to view the last picture (number 6). I was sold when I saw that one.

Yesterday I was talking to a friend about the plans we make in life. It seems that when you don't plan, nothing happens, but when you do, something very different actually takes place. I didn't even have to plan to own a house by the time I was 30, I just "knew" it would happen. I thought it was a no brainer. White picket fence and all. But here we are, NYC pricing, Birmingham job. But again, who knows what the future holds?

On the flip side, price is relative to demand. People want to be here, we want to be here (don't freak out Mom, I just mean for now). A house is rarely on the market longer than a month. The reasons for that are endless, but I'll save that for another blog.

But before I close my eyes and dream of square footage and closet space, I have to post some great oxymorons I found in my search for one other than jumbo shrimp.

Head Butt, Tax Return, Dodge Ram, Barenaked Ladies, Healthy Tan, Act Naturally, Resident Alien, Birth Control, Personal Computer, and my favorite: Microsoft Works.

Oh my gosh, the Siliconization is happening. I'm definitely turning into a geek.

I would never!

Or would I?

I have seen and heard about many things lately that have made me think "I would never do that", whether I am consciously thinking it or not. I'm driving down the road and see a prostitution bust. I am shocked that it is happening in our little town, and more shocked that people could really live that way. I hear that friends are having affairs and been utterly dumbfounded that they could do such a thing! Sometimes it's things not as "big" as those, but maybe something someone has said, decisions that others have made, cultural or traditional beliefs of others that I think so stupid.

Arrgh. Lord forgive me! I want to believe that I really am better. I want to believe that there is this fragment of good in me that prevents me from crossing the line that I have drawn that separates what I believe is not so bad, and really bad. But I would rather believe the truth. The truth is that my righteousness is as filthy rags. That is, if I believe what scripture says about me. But do I really believe that?

I tell people that this world is fallen, imperfect, in need of a Savior. Yet I am shocked by the sin that is in it. And then finally, shocked that it is in me as well. One of the most central and concise definitions I have heard of why Christ died is simply because we are more sinful and flawed that we dare imagine, yet more loved and accepted that we dare dream.

It's amazing that when I get a glimpse the depth of my sin, also comes a glimpse of how much the Lord must love me to accept me in spite of it.

The truth is (whether I believe it daily or not), that yes I would! But for the grace of God, there go I. Whether my sin plays itself out in prostitution or materialism, adultery or slander, I am no better or worse than the street girl on the corner. No better or worse than the adulterous husband.

I believe it intellectually, but I desire to believe it deeply. I really don't want to respond with pride, but with humility. And I'm not there yet.

Night of the Armadillo

Well, long time no write. But wow do I have some stories to tell!

We just returned from a trip to Birmingham where we spent time with family, and Atlanta where Bryan worked at the PCA's General Assembly. I should really tell you about how encouraged I was by seminars I heard, conversations I had, and the new friends that I made there. But who wants to get sappy when we can talk about armadillos?

No, joke, I have pictures to prove that there really are people in this world that consider armadillo hunting a true sporting event. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating. Maybe my family & I were outside when we heard some rustling in the bushes. Maybe I told my mom not to freak out because it wasn't going anywhere. Maybe when I put my camera to my eye the crazy thing RAN BETWEEN MY LEGS! Ok, maybe right beside my leg, but I really did do a better toe touch than I ever did as a cheerleader. Nevertheless, it was a classic Southern family moment that started with a "hey y'all, what's that?" and escalated into everyone running to get there gear (Dad, his warrior pole to poke? it out of the bushes; Mom, a spotlight so she could stand far enough away as to not get trampled but to be sure not to miss anything; and me, my camera because I was sure that no one in CA would believe that this was actually happening). My sister was sad to miss it, but mud ridin' took precedence. Thankfully my brother wasn't there, for I'm sure he would want to fry the poor critter up for a good eatin'.








The rest of my tales from home really don't compare to the night of the armadillo, but a few things are worth mentioning. Only about once a year or so do I crave true Southern cooking, but if I were a little closer to John's Diner in Trussville my tastebuds could be persuaded. Mom took me there fresh off the plane and the fried green tomatoes, corn grits, collard greens, John's famous slaw, and sweet iced tea did not disappoint. Some of you may know that John's was a downtown B'ham landmark for years (my grandfather still raves about his visits there 40 years ago). It now has a new revamped store off Hwy 11. Great (although possibly out of the way) place to take newbies that might be a little overwhelmed by a hole in the wall, with big mama yellin' "what chu want baby?" while slappin' some runny butter beans on a not so squeaky clean plate.

Other things we relished in: BBQ, chick-fil-a, Milo's, sweet tea, did I say BBQ? Hugs, hugs, and more hugs. I don't get many of those on this side of the world. Hearing a mom say to a group of kids "ok, all y'all schooch in for a picture!.Schooch!". Catching up and laughing with family and friends that I so dearly love.

Finally, a few sightings that are better seen than written about:


Where can I get these seeds?


I guess I should be careful in my comment here. But I must mention that there were also statues of Mary and Buddha in other neighbors yards. Was this a friendly neighborhood competition? You also must click on it to get a full appreciation of it.

You can check out the real photos of our sweet time with family and friends at our website, www.bryandavis.net .

Aren't we all that little old lady?

It's neat how God teaches us through the little things in life.

Yesterday I helped a little old lady cross the street. Really. I thought that phrase was just figurative for saying you did a good deed, but yesterday it was literal for me. Well, except the little part. She wasn't.

Anyway, I'm driving down El Camino Real (for those of you who don't know, this is a very busy road that goes through the Silicon Valley) and slow down to make a right turn. Two cars in front of me have to swerve around something in the street and keep going. I then realize that it is an old lady in a motorized get-you-around thing (I just now realized I have no idea what those are called. You know, the things you can ride around Wal-mart in, or what older people use to get around. I'm really not trying to be derogatory here). So, she was trying to cross the street, and it looks like the thing quit on her just feet away from the curb. She was crying and panicked, and I'm upset that no one else stopped! I pull up the road, stop to get out, and the lady was yelling at me, explaining her situation like she thought I was mad at her. I try to calm her down, but quickly because we are now both in a pretty dangerous situation!

So here we go, I get behind her to push, knowing that this would be impossible even with her being in a wheeled "vehicle". Like I said, she was not little. She says "no honey, I just need you to stand beside me so I won't fall". She shows me that it's not that the vehicle has broken, but that when she tries to go up the curb and turn, she nearly falls over. She was more scared of falling than being stuck in the street. So I simply stand beside her as she makes the curb. Funny enough, I didn't even do anything.

She's on her way, and I get back in my car, and then comes my lesson for the day.

I could have a whole other blog about how overwhelmed I've been lately with my own circumstances, and with knowing how to help others with theirs (good time to give a plug for a book I'm reading - "Instruments in the Hands of the Redeemer" by Paul Tripp). Just within my close circle of friends we have experienced miscarriages, adultery, and even the tragic death of a beloved spouse. In these times I want so badly to comfort my friends, to have the right words, to do the right things. I worry about saying too little, and especially too much. I'm so hurt for them but know that it's only a taste of what they are experiencing.

The Lord is showing me that it's not that my friends expect me to push them up the hill. I can't. They just need me to stand beside them so they won't fall. We have everything we need in Christ to get through hardships, yet He has created us to bear each others burdens. And it's when we help bear another's that our own suddenly doesn't seem so heavy.

Haircuts an Hula Hoops

I love Saturday mornings here. We sleep in, sip our coffee slowly, walk out our door and wander around downtown. Today we did the usual, but added an interesting visit.

There's a quite unique little hair salon up the street. Sure, when you look in the window you see the usual chic looking stylists, hair products and equipment, but this place offers something more - hula hooping Chinese ladies. Now before your mind goes where it shouldn't, let me explain. Bryan and I walk past this place nearly everyday after work and it never fails - there is always at least one cute little lady hooping away. You can't pass by without giving a mutual smile and wave. I've wondered if it was marketing, exercise, or simply just for fun. Bryan has been needing a cut, so today we decided to find out.

As soon as we walked in the door both of the stylists that were there were so excited to see us (although I was a little disappointed because there wasn't a hoop in sight). With a huge smile they welcomed us with "ah, you finally come! You have such nice smile everyday!". I think they are really saying "it's about time you're getting that hair cut!". Whatever the case, I figure it is worth even a bad cut just to see them so excited. About halfway through I finally ask. "So what's the deal with the hula hoops?". "It's because of the big stomach" she replies. So one of my theories proved correct. Just then another stylist runs to the back to retrieve it. This is no ordinary hoop. It's huge! "Here, you try". Let me just say that the years of P.E's Hula Hooping Queen have not passed me by. If you think Bryan's hair looks bad, blame his hysterical laughing during the cut, not the stylist.

So ladies, we have always wondered why the Asian people have the market on tinyness right? Well, now we know the secret. It's not genes, it's not the diet, it's not even all those crazy Chinese herbs and stuff. It's our very own Christmas present of '85! I'm making a dash to Target right now!

I must say, hula hooping beat reading Chinese magazines while waiting. And maybe I even left a little trimmer.

A Southern/West Coast fusion Memorial Day

I guess I spent Memorial Day as it should be spent? Although I was born and raised in Alabama, and even have a friend back home who's grandparents still have a cannon in their back yard pointing North at all times, it took me moving to California to see my first Civil War reenactment! I didn't know the West Coast knew anything about the Civil War. I mean, isn't it all about rebel flags and the South rising again? In any case, it was a blast. Pun definitely intended.

Our friends Gene and Laura were in town and all of us, along with the Prentiss family, went to the Santa Cruz Mountains for the day. When I think of Santa Cruz, I think of surfing narly dudes. See below. But when we first arrived I felt like I was back at Tannehill State Park on Pioneer Day. Don't get me wrong, I was glad to patriotically celebrate with the Yankees and the Rebels. My favorite part of the battle was hearing Nick and Oliver's main concern of "who are the good guys, and who are the bad guys?". Reasonable, but how do you answer that one?

We took a steam engine train ride through the Santa Cruz mountains which are filled with giant Redwoods. It was pretty cool. But not really cool. I won't name any names, but the Reverend of the group predicted it would be cold (we were going through the mountains). But it was quite the opposite. Marianne's ice cream was a much welcomed treat.

We later drove to downtown Santa Cruz and took in its hippiness. So eccentric! There are true hippies everywhere along with hitch hikers and homeless people, and yet the shopping is very chic and high end. We then then headed to the beach and watched the daring surfers (they climbed out on the cliffs with big "warning" signs posted everywhere), the sun bathing sea lions, and the dancing, dreadlock bearing bongo guys.

It was a Memorial Day that started with something that, in a way, was so familiar. Yet as the day progressed, I was continually reminded that I'm not in Kansas anymore.

Who needs Myers-Briggs?

I've decided that personality tests might not be needed for those who visit their local coffee shop everyday.
The best thing about being a barista is having a personalized drink ready by the time the customer gets to the counter. Here's your Double, decaf, skinny, dry, light vanilla cappucino Mr. Man! Enjoy.
Here are my theories on a few regulars:

Double, Breve, Cherry, Mocha Man- definitely a Hedonist
Single, non-fat, decaf latte people - boring
Double but a triple cup, decaf, non-fat, super-foamy cappucino lady - high maintenance!
Dine in espresso - not from the US
Triple espresso to go's - up too late on myspace last night
Quadruple red-eye guy- up too late on myspace every night for the last week
Soy chai latte in a mug - tree hugger
Simple coffee men- predictable, but loyal

My favorite customers though are the ones that come everyday but order something different each time. Loyal, yet adventurous.

So what am I you may ask? I guess this means I am an occasionally hedonistic but sometimes boring, loyal yet adventurous, super high maintenance woman!

Ode to my beloved AC

Forgive me, my beloved, for taking advantage of you.
Forgive me for not knowing what a joy you were to me.
Forgive me for leaving you.
Your gentle hum rocked me to sleep
and your cool breath brought refreshment to my soul.
I miss you, dear AC.

It started long ago. We Southerners knew that we were in the hottest, most humid and muggy place in the U.S. That's why we invented sweet iced tea, front porches, and barefootness. Then came the majestic day when some genius of a person (well, maybe it doesn't take a genius to realize that 100 degree heat + 100% humidity = a needed solution) invented Air Conditioning. The South has never looked back. It is unthinkable to own or rent a place without our friend AC.

Now I will be the first to say that the weather here is quite perfect. Because it is in the 70's the majority of the time, because there is always a slight nip in the air, and because a Californian experiences humidity only in his shower, I am able to enjoy the rare times we see true heat - outdoors.

86.9 degrees. No, that's not extremely hot - outside. But the day that was read on our living room thermometer we knew it might be time to visit our local Home Depot. Or, try the California technique - leave all windows open until 9am or so, then close them along with the shades to trap in the cool air. Done. We even went as far to open and close all closets and drawers to trap in cool air and release when needed. I laughed out loud the day I opened Bryan's undie drawer to feel the cool air inside. So now when I hear the infamous line "we really don't need AC here in California" I think, "well, nor does a birthing mother need an epidural".

But again, the bright side - Bryan thinks my bare feet are cute (as long as I don't bust out the matching overalls).

Now on a serious note (to my friends that might be considering making a life for themselves out here) - it does cool off at night. And to our sunny states' credit, we do not have double paned windows nor do we have any shade at all for our little place (even though it wouldn't take a very big tree).

But if you ask me what I miss about the South, sure I'll say sweet tea and BBQ, but it's you my beloved AC that I miss the most.

Sweet Home

As we are enjoying our sushi (even though it was Sushi Boat) tonight we overhear the couple next to us say "well then, you wouldn't want to move to the South....... actually, I might move anywhere but Alabama...". I am pretending to be interested in my dear husband's conversation as well as my tuna, but really I am straining to hear the woman finish her thoughts. No luck. I am now kicking myself for not striking up a conversation. How fun that would have been!

It left us laughing about what she could have meant, as well as reminiscing about the treasures of the South that some will never know. My new friend Ina recently told me about her first experience in the South (she is originally from China). She was on a greyhound going from NY (I think) to Louisiana. At some point two Southern belles boarded just a chattin' away and Ina thought "why are they singing to each other?". I think Ina grew to like it. She says Katie and I are like music to her ears. I'll just pretend that everyone thinks that.

Speaking of what everyone thinks, I was going to list some of my loves and laughs about the South, but wouldn't it be more fun to hear it from y'all? I know only about 3 people know about my little blog, but all y'all come on, belles and rebels alike, and give a shout out (or shout down) to the good 'ole South. Conner, you're first.

Sam

So I recently saw the movie "13 Conversations About One Thing". Yeah, I know my good friend Kate already blogged about it. So just read hers if you want. But I have been mulling over one aspect of it for a week. In the end (not that it is a hugely plot driven movie, but if you are like me and don't like a hint of a film given away, stop now!) it seems to say that just a smile or friendly gesture could radically impact someone. Now I am with Kate in that the film really doesn't get at much and should be titled "13 questions with no answers". But it just so happens that I have seen this one idea play out in my own life this week.

I work in a coffee shop where people are in and out constantly. I have simple, shootin' the breeze conversations all the time. Very often though when someone walks away I wonder what is really going on inside them. Is she really as sad and hurt as she seems? Is he really as lonely as he seems? But I feel helpless. I will only see them 30 seconds at any given time.

Now let me quit ramblling and tell you about Sam. My co-workers and I have wondered if the elderly man is deaf, or just doesn't speak English. His first day in he just layed his money on the counter and we played charades to figure out that he wanted an Earl Grey. Everyday since it's the same order, the same friendly smile by us, and the same blank look in response. I always wonder if he thinks I am insincere or just weird. Then, a shift in behavior. This week he shuffled in the door like any other day, but instead of laying down his money he hands a pink rose. A smile and $1.62 is exchanged. An Earl Grey, shuffle to his seat, and a blank look. But this time it was worn by the cashier. A smile did matter to him. And the rose mattered to her.

57,600 inches

"No way, not 400" they say. "They probably live in a small place, but it has to be bigger than 400 sq. feet!". But no friend, it's our reality. I am reminded of this every time I walk to the kitchen. For most that means simply putting one foot in front of the other. But for us, well, do you remember Catherine Zeta Jones manuvers in Entrapment?

It's easy to become frustrated when I have to use a chair for extra counter space, when I have to put groceries away like working a puzzle, or when I straddle a bicycle to put clothes in the wash. But I have to smile, even as I am sitting now at our makeshift TV tray computer desk. I love our little home. Every one of our 57,600 inches.

Hmm... that number sounds so much better than 400. It's just like the Lord to humble me and renew my perspective. It makes me think of the saying "home is where the heart is" (yes, although it is usually cross-stitched and hanging on our grandparents wall). But isn't it still true? When we leave here, I hope I think about how Bryan was never more than a few feet away, and how we were able to have 10 friends sitting around our coffee table laughing about our forced "Asian style" meal, and really, how simple life was. The benefits have far out weighed the hardships.

A few wonderful things about living in a small space:

It's always cozy!
You are forced to be organized.
It's easy to clean. Just stand in one place, rags in hand, and turn circles.
I'm not tempted to buy home decor.
Cheaper utilities.
It promotes the outdoors!

Bryan thinks we should just add 100 sq. feet per child. Well, we will just save that topic for another blog.