I recently had the awesome opportunity to meet up with some old friends in the cattle industry at the National Cattlemen's Beef Association Conference in San Diego. My blog was the last thing I imagined would pop up in conversation, yet someone brought attention to it saying that while he enjoyed all of my posts, he sure did miss my sense of humor...that my recent posts were too serious. He identified my sense of humor as "neat," but I know he just thinks I'm weird and wanted to see what crazy thing I would dare to say next. What can I say? I aim to please my humble crowd of blog admirers, so here ya go, Mr. Jim (yeah, you know who you are!)...
I'd like to preface this post with the following statement: My sense of humor is odd. If it in any way offends you, I kindly ask you to not read any of my future blog posts. Or...heck, feel free to unfriend me altogether. We probably shouldn't be friends if you don't find me amusing. I don't have a lot else to offer unfortunately (Except I have been told I'm fun to watch dancing...and my husband thinks I'm an excellent lover...but sorry, the latter mentioned skill is reserved for him alone).
My husband once told me I look mean when I run. Now don't think my husband is mean to me (besides that one time he gave me a black eye and told me to blame it on a gorilla), I'm pretty sure there is some truth to this. Why? Because I'm competitive. When he and I would go for jogs together back in Florida, he would totally outpace me (longer legs = longer stride = more ground covered) and would turn around smiling, running backward about a quarter of a mile ahead of me, just checking to see where I was. If he had been running on a regular basis, this probably wouldn't have bothered me so much, but no, he would come out fresh off the dairy and would blow me out of the water. Not cool.
I've recently picked back up on my running because I've found it is the one exercise that can lean me up like I want. Unfortunately, I have a two-year commitment to a nice gym in town to which I only attend if it's raining and I can't run outside. Whenever I get in gym mode, you might as well call me a beast. Actually, some Canadian girl my brother dated short term (thank goodness for us all that it was short) called me a beast at one point. Perhaps it was because my brother clued her in to the fact that he's teased me for years about having big traps. Whatever the case, it's true. When I work out with weights, I look like a mini, more feminine (I hope) version of the Hulk (less green...I forgot that part). So yeah, running it is for me.
Today I went for a four-mile run right around sunset. Weather was beautiful, so I took off to a ritzy neighborhood where the most scared I was bound to be was from a rich family's gardener chasing me off because I looked like a sweaty hobbit (but not a jacked hobbit...because I haven't been lifting weights recently). I was just through the entrance of the neighborhood, when I spotted three bucks. These guys had decent racks (that's not normally paired together, huh?). My first thought was, "Oh, I hope I don't look too feminine right now. They might try to mount me thinking I'm a doe. I am kinda hairy like an animal." Then my husband's words, of how mean I look when I run, popped into my head, and I was relieved. "Oh crap. Sure, I don't have anything to worry about looking feminine right now," I said as I wiped some runner's drool from my face, "but what if they see my muscular traps and think I'm a buck competing for the REAL does?!?" Luckily, my country upbringing reminded me that I have a human scent. I wasn't wearing my deer urine during my run, so I should be considered just another human to these city deer. Run on.
Next event: I found a running partner. Did he know he was running with me? No. In fact, it was probably a bit creepy for him if he'd known how long I'd been pursuing him (in good old-fashioned running sport, of course...C'mon, my husband can read this if he wants. Do you really think I want to have to use that gorilla excuse with my friends and family next time? I'm pretty sure they won't believe it a second time...). It was funny that not knowing this guy from Adam, he boosted my running spirit halfway through because I felt like I was part of a team. And then I passed him. And I lost my running buddy. Lesson to be learned: sometimes if you get too ambitious, you can quickly lose friends...even if they don't realize they're your friends. Friendship takes time and nurturing to grow.
Hmmm...and, I ate a couple of bugs on accident (maybe...or maybe I needed an immediate source of protein on mile 3. No need to pass judgement, that's Jesus' job.)
So the moral of this story is...nothing. Absolutely nothing, but hopefully it made you smile, giggle, LOL or even pee your pants a bit (again, I'm not Jesus, so I can't judge, but please change your pants. You smell grossly of urine at this point.). I guess if we HAD to pull a moral out, it would be...sometimes what you think you seem in your head, is not actually how you represent yourself. For example, I feel empowered when I run. I just know I look like one of those strong, confident women in the Nike's commercials "Just Doin' It!" (you know, scaring city deer, stalking neighborhood runners, eating bugs...), but in fact, I look like an angry thirteen-year-old boy with oversized traps. I'm cool with that as long as I look like a SKINNY thirteen-year-old boy...and the deer don't make any moves on me.
WORD to your mother. And word to mine. Hello, mom!
Friday, February 19, 2016
Monday, January 25, 2016
Scared brave.
Last week, my husband surprised me with tickets to the Texas A&M and LSU basketball game. It was a great time, though I'll have to be honest, one of the highlights of the night wasn't the game itself. The crowd witnessed an Aggie college student win $5,000 making a half-court shot during halftime. Everyone went wild, excited for the luck of this potentially broke college student. I couldn't help but think, "What if he hadn't taken the shot because of fear he would humiliate himself in front of a crowd (the school broke a record that night for basketball game attendance, by the way)?"
This got me thinking about my own life. Within the last year, I've had several people comment on how brave I am for trying new things, talking to complete strangers, going somewhere like a movie or a meal out by myself. What's funny to me is that I know these people must think I have confidence just oozing out of my ears. It's actually the exact opposite. It's fear that drives my bravery.
When I was a junior in high school, I remember being in my first "real" boyfriend's truck (first kiss makes him a "real" one, right?) when we were discussing my plans for after graduation. He was a senior, a year ahead of me, and I was always a bit intimidated by that at the time. I told him that upon acceptance, I was planning to attend TROY University, a university in Alabama five and a half hours from my small, very rural Florida hometown. I remember him laughing, telling me I would never go to school so far from home. It wasn't that he didn't think I was smart or that I could afford to go to college in another state, it was that he simply didn't think I had it in me to move so far from home. I would be too scared.
We broke up not long after. And I'm not ashamed to say I was the one who got the boot. Him soon going to the college about 45 minutes away, and me being in high school still for another year was just "too different." I also think that me having the ability to keep my panties on through that relationship probably didn't help my odds of getting broken up with, too (haha!). I don't have any resentment towards the guy. In fact, I should thank him. His inability to see my inner strength and bravery is partly responsible for the person I have become today. And it also helped me realize not to be anyone but myself in a relationship..."Full Torie" as my mom calls it...because why waste time with someone who doesn't appreciate the real you?
Back on topic...I went on to TROY University for four of the best years of my life. I made life-long friends and received a great education. Sure, I was scared the first couple of weeks not knowing anyone, but I quickly learned the only way to enjoy my time was to get outside of my comfort zone and kick my own fear's butt. To force bravery on myself.
To this day, I still have moments when I'm afraid (For the record, I will never trump my fear of mice, snakes, roaches and flying squirrels, and I'm okay with that). Scared I won't be accepted in a group (even at this age of life women can be so dang mean sometimes!), scared my strange sense of humor will bring on an awkward silence when I'm meeting folks for the first time, scared I'll hit a wrong note in choir practice and people will wonder, "Who invited her?" During these times, I reflect back on the friendships I've made and the great experiences I've had simply from "taking the shot" when I knew the outcome could be one not so great. I can't say I've won $5,000, but the people I've met and memories made were well worth my stage fright.
This got me thinking about my own life. Within the last year, I've had several people comment on how brave I am for trying new things, talking to complete strangers, going somewhere like a movie or a meal out by myself. What's funny to me is that I know these people must think I have confidence just oozing out of my ears. It's actually the exact opposite. It's fear that drives my bravery.
When I was a junior in high school, I remember being in my first "real" boyfriend's truck (first kiss makes him a "real" one, right?) when we were discussing my plans for after graduation. He was a senior, a year ahead of me, and I was always a bit intimidated by that at the time. I told him that upon acceptance, I was planning to attend TROY University, a university in Alabama five and a half hours from my small, very rural Florida hometown. I remember him laughing, telling me I would never go to school so far from home. It wasn't that he didn't think I was smart or that I could afford to go to college in another state, it was that he simply didn't think I had it in me to move so far from home. I would be too scared.
We broke up not long after. And I'm not ashamed to say I was the one who got the boot. Him soon going to the college about 45 minutes away, and me being in high school still for another year was just "too different." I also think that me having the ability to keep my panties on through that relationship probably didn't help my odds of getting broken up with, too (haha!). I don't have any resentment towards the guy. In fact, I should thank him. His inability to see my inner strength and bravery is partly responsible for the person I have become today. And it also helped me realize not to be anyone but myself in a relationship..."Full Torie" as my mom calls it...because why waste time with someone who doesn't appreciate the real you?
Back on topic...I went on to TROY University for four of the best years of my life. I made life-long friends and received a great education. Sure, I was scared the first couple of weeks not knowing anyone, but I quickly learned the only way to enjoy my time was to get outside of my comfort zone and kick my own fear's butt. To force bravery on myself.
To this day, I still have moments when I'm afraid (For the record, I will never trump my fear of mice, snakes, roaches and flying squirrels, and I'm okay with that). Scared I won't be accepted in a group (even at this age of life women can be so dang mean sometimes!), scared my strange sense of humor will bring on an awkward silence when I'm meeting folks for the first time, scared I'll hit a wrong note in choir practice and people will wonder, "Who invited her?" During these times, I reflect back on the friendships I've made and the great experiences I've had simply from "taking the shot" when I knew the outcome could be one not so great. I can't say I've won $5,000, but the people I've met and memories made were well worth my stage fright.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Parenting tricks learned in a college town
It has been awhile! I apologize for disappearing. Strange and wonderful thoughts I would peg as perfect blog topics have continued to cross my mind over the course of the past two years. I guess somewhere in the process of getting married, starting a new job twice...and becoming a resident of two new states within three years, has kept me occupied. But don't worry, I have a feeling those strange blog-worthy thoughts will never leave me, and I have good intentions of documenting them 'Under the Big Top' more frequently.
The second move (mentioned above) has led my handsome hubby and me to the great state of Texas. While we did leave some top-notch folks behind in Iowa, we drove away from the icy roads as quickly as we could without slipping off the road. Our move, which has resulted in us living in a small condo for the time being, has provided some awesome blog material. Why? We are now living in the middle of college students again, and our son (cat Mick) and daughter (dog Jess) both live inside our tiny condo with us.
I began a new job last week, so until then, I stayed at home doing contract work for my former employer. Anyone who knows my need for social interaction would probably wonder how I did not go crazy staying inside all day. The answer: our children.
Mick and Jess met when David and I were dating. Mick, an only child, was not pleased at a young slobbering dog invading his space. Poor Jess, only wishing to play, got hissed at and swatted with razor paws. That has been a few years ago, so we were hoping our condo (with no yard) would work out for the short term. We have been pleasantly surprised at how well our furry kids are getting along. I have been more surprised by the parenting skills I've learned while being home with the two. I'm quite sure when we make our own less furry children (hopefully they will be less furry...I have a lot of hair), I will be an excellent mother from the observations Mick and Jess have provided.
Parenting skills brought to you by Mickolas Stink-Butt Hardee-Noellsch and Jess Piglet Noellsch:
1. If you burn food while frying it, your kid WILL jump out the window.
One night I was trying the best I could to be a good Southern wife, and make David one of his favorite side dishes: fried okra. My mother has always done a beautiful job at frying okra, so I knew deep down it must be in my blood. I cut up over a pound of okra knowing I would probably burn most of it. When this thought crossed my mind, I probably should have also thought about the fact that we were living in a tiny condo and the smoke would have nowhere to go. I will say that we ended up having more than enough perfect fried okra to eat after I left the kitchen. I will also say my mascara was running and David's eyes were red because I'd officially smoked us out with the first burned batch. David had a great idea...opening the two windows in the living and kitchen areas. It did cross our minds that one of the windows was where Mick sat fairly often to people watch (the very fine parking lot view) and sunbathe, but we just thought we'd keep an eye on him. An hour or so later, we awoke on the couch to find...or rather not find Mick anywhere. Sure enough, we run downstairs (oh yeah, did I not mention that we are on the second floor?!?) with flashlights, and using my super detective work, I shined the light directly under both open windows and find cat paw tracks. We found him alive with eight lives to spare (maybe seven...we had a scare in Iowa with him eating a couple feet of gift wrapping ribbon) hunkered down under a parked car.
2. Kids get major props from siblings for doing stupidly courageous things.
In continuing the story from above, Mick was cold, wet and scared when we retrieved him from the parking lot. We dried him off and observed him in the kitchen to make sure he was okay. Scared Mick disappeared, but "Yeah, I'm the cool cat who just took a two-story leap into the parking lot, show me some respect, dawg" Mick was strutting around like a hero. And Jess showed him major respect.
3. If you leave something tempting on the counter, your kid will get into it.
David recently celebrated his 29th birthday. He loves chocolate and peanut butter, so I just knew he would love a recipe I saw a friend post on Facebook: a chocolate Reese's Peanut Butter cheesecake with a brownie crust. Everything was going well, but the cheesecake portion was still chilling in the fridge when we were ready to go out for David's birthday dinner. We got back home and saw orange wrappers everywhere. Yes, Jess had managed to get 14 Reese's Cups off the counter (to be used for decorating the cake), and had eaten every last one. She received punishment, but I know she'd do it again. Oh yeah...a few days later, orange wrapper evidence showed up in her poo. BUSTED!
4. If you feed your kid crap, he/she will poop on your floor.
This one is straight forward. David tried to feed Jess cheaper dog food, and she couldn't control her BMs.
5. Kids are annoyingly persistent.
Maybe he has short-term memory problems, but if a door is open that Mick knows he's not supposed to enter, he will try to enter. He runs out when he sees me...but 10 seconds later, and he's back.
6. Something kids can't have is always more desirable (that goes for all ages, actually).
Day two of Texas we went to one of David's favorite places: Sam's Club. We decided we needed to get Jess a baller dog bed if we were going to keep her off the furniture. We found one spacious enough even I could fit in (and have actually tried out). It was so comfy! We both agreed there was no way she could resist. Sure enough, the next couple of times we came in the condo we found Jess on the humans' couch. She's gotten better, but I still see paw prints now and then.
7. Don't rely on an automatic feeder to feed your kids.
Sometimes the batteries go dead and your kid is whining for a legit reason. If they're chunky and need to go on a diet, this is a good option because you don't look like you're starving them on purpose. That was a joke. I repeat: that was a joke.
THE END
I strangely felt like that was a good one to end on. If there has to be an end, end strong...or making people wonder.
Well, I thought I wanted to tie in another college-related topic into this post, but I have rambled on long enough. Yep, I haven't changed. But I've learned when I've said to much, and seven paragraphs ago was probably it.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Save a Debbie Downer. Dance like you're on crack.
Just last week, I did a crazy thing (okay, so it's really not so crazy for me, but others would probably think I was crazy if they witnessed it). You see, I get strange thrills out of doing outlandish things to make others' days a tad more interesting (and happier, if possible). You know that Walmart cashier who acts like her world is ending by scanning one more can of corn (you're asking why I picked a can of corn, right...out of all the things in a grocery store? Truth is...I don't really know either. Maybe it's because I'm marrying a Midwest boy from the land of corn?). Anyhow, we all know this person. Tell me, what are you doing to give them a little bit of fun for their day?
Back to last week. So I'm driving down the road and catch a glimpse of young man in his 20's, twirling some sort of "We Buy Gold!" sign. He looked bored out of his mind. I thought about flashing him and really giving him a story to tell his pawn shop friends. Luckily, one of my other personalities told me I needed to use better judgement...that I would probably wreck my truck if I was only driving with one hand (just kidding...of course I have more self respect than that! C'mon, people!). I followed my second instinct to shamelessly flail around like I was smoking crack (I have never smoked crack, but I believe I have a pretty good imitation of someone who does...just ask sometime, I will show you) and throw up some "raise the roof!" signs to him. My new found pawn shop friend's face instantly turned from one of boredom to one of hysteria. His huge smile and laugh, as he watched my truck disappear down the road, made me giggle and instantly made my day happier. I didn't even know this guy and hadn't said a word to him, but we had shared a personal connection that had a positive effect on us both.
Not much longer after that incidence, the Torie wheels began churning. I know it's not a rocket science thought, but I began to think about how much people thrive on having personal connections with others. Some people, by nature, are more outspoken and quicker to strike up an actual conversation, but we all rely on some kind of human connection to really keep us in a positive frame of mind. Think about the airplane experience. You board the plane and find your seat before your neighbors. In my experience, those neighbors typically consist of two types: the "I just want to sleep...and I'm going to pretend like we aren't sitting less than a foot from each other" type, and the "I want to know all about you, and you're going to know all about me in one hour" type. Sometimes, I am fortunate enough to find a balance of the two types. These people, are the perfect neighbors...friendly enough, yet observant enough to realize you are yawning and it is a 6 a.m. flight. However, I find that even when I was hoping for sleep...or at least some reading time...God places some stranger next to me, and I leave the plane a better person than when I boarded. Well, saying a "better person" might not be the thought I'm aiming for. I walk away with different perspectives, making me a more understanding person of others and why they act/react as they do.
To capture the thought of the paragraph above, let me explain a recent flight experience I was fortunate enough to have. I boarded the plane, and a man probably in his mid 40's motioned that he was the window seat. I took him for the "sleeping" neighbor, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Not long after we buckled in, he began talking to me. It didn't take but one sentence before I realized he had a severe stuttering problem. I tried to act as normal as possible, patiently waiting for him to finish his thoughts. Initially, I thought maybe he had a mental illness, but I soon realized I didn't know what his stuttering was a result of, but this cat was a sharp dude. He was a retired child and family psychologist, and had some very deep questions to ask and thoughts to share (perhaps I was being analyzed right where I sat, the joke was on me...either way, it was a free therapy session). After we went our separate ways, I thought about how brave my window seat buddy was. If I had a stutter that bad, would I pretend like I was asleep on every flight to hide my embarrassment? Harold didn't. Maybe, he was never embarrassed of it...or maybe, his need for a personal connection finally told his embarrassment to take a hike. Whatever it was, I felt blessed to have sat beside and learned from such a remarkable human being. His triumphs reminded me of simple blessings I take for granted everyday.
While my friend Harold opted for the personal experience, there are many people who act withdrawn for one reason or another. They wear a frown all the time, and take the attitude that they don't need anyone for anything. I'm calling BS. I've had positive exchanges with these types of people, and have actually been able to evoke a smile out of them. You can approach these people two ways: A. they're miserable souls and you don't want anything to do with them, or B. maybe they've had something horrible happen in their lives, and they're trying to bounce back from it. Maybe, just maybe, through a simple smile and light conversation, you could be the light they see at the end of some dark tunnel.
With that, I challenge you to take the "Torie Challenge": do something fun/crazy/uplifting, and make an effort to brighten someone's day if you see them down and out. Dancing in your vehicle like you're on crack may just be one of those things that works for me, but feel free to give it a try! You may not always get the huge grin you're looking for, but I guarantee the personal connection will be rewarding for both you and Debbie Downer.
Back to last week. So I'm driving down the road and catch a glimpse of young man in his 20's, twirling some sort of "We Buy Gold!" sign. He looked bored out of his mind. I thought about flashing him and really giving him a story to tell his pawn shop friends. Luckily, one of my other personalities told me I needed to use better judgement...that I would probably wreck my truck if I was only driving with one hand (just kidding...of course I have more self respect than that! C'mon, people!). I followed my second instinct to shamelessly flail around like I was smoking crack (I have never smoked crack, but I believe I have a pretty good imitation of someone who does...just ask sometime, I will show you) and throw up some "raise the roof!" signs to him. My new found pawn shop friend's face instantly turned from one of boredom to one of hysteria. His huge smile and laugh, as he watched my truck disappear down the road, made me giggle and instantly made my day happier. I didn't even know this guy and hadn't said a word to him, but we had shared a personal connection that had a positive effect on us both.
Not much longer after that incidence, the Torie wheels began churning. I know it's not a rocket science thought, but I began to think about how much people thrive on having personal connections with others. Some people, by nature, are more outspoken and quicker to strike up an actual conversation, but we all rely on some kind of human connection to really keep us in a positive frame of mind. Think about the airplane experience. You board the plane and find your seat before your neighbors. In my experience, those neighbors typically consist of two types: the "I just want to sleep...and I'm going to pretend like we aren't sitting less than a foot from each other" type, and the "I want to know all about you, and you're going to know all about me in one hour" type. Sometimes, I am fortunate enough to find a balance of the two types. These people, are the perfect neighbors...friendly enough, yet observant enough to realize you are yawning and it is a 6 a.m. flight. However, I find that even when I was hoping for sleep...or at least some reading time...God places some stranger next to me, and I leave the plane a better person than when I boarded. Well, saying a "better person" might not be the thought I'm aiming for. I walk away with different perspectives, making me a more understanding person of others and why they act/react as they do.
To capture the thought of the paragraph above, let me explain a recent flight experience I was fortunate enough to have. I boarded the plane, and a man probably in his mid 40's motioned that he was the window seat. I took him for the "sleeping" neighbor, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Not long after we buckled in, he began talking to me. It didn't take but one sentence before I realized he had a severe stuttering problem. I tried to act as normal as possible, patiently waiting for him to finish his thoughts. Initially, I thought maybe he had a mental illness, but I soon realized I didn't know what his stuttering was a result of, but this cat was a sharp dude. He was a retired child and family psychologist, and had some very deep questions to ask and thoughts to share (perhaps I was being analyzed right where I sat, the joke was on me...either way, it was a free therapy session). After we went our separate ways, I thought about how brave my window seat buddy was. If I had a stutter that bad, would I pretend like I was asleep on every flight to hide my embarrassment? Harold didn't. Maybe, he was never embarrassed of it...or maybe, his need for a personal connection finally told his embarrassment to take a hike. Whatever it was, I felt blessed to have sat beside and learned from such a remarkable human being. His triumphs reminded me of simple blessings I take for granted everyday.
While my friend Harold opted for the personal experience, there are many people who act withdrawn for one reason or another. They wear a frown all the time, and take the attitude that they don't need anyone for anything. I'm calling BS. I've had positive exchanges with these types of people, and have actually been able to evoke a smile out of them. You can approach these people two ways: A. they're miserable souls and you don't want anything to do with them, or B. maybe they've had something horrible happen in their lives, and they're trying to bounce back from it. Maybe, just maybe, through a simple smile and light conversation, you could be the light they see at the end of some dark tunnel.
With that, I challenge you to take the "Torie Challenge": do something fun/crazy/uplifting, and make an effort to brighten someone's day if you see them down and out. Dancing in your vehicle like you're on crack may just be one of those things that works for me, but feel free to give it a try! You may not always get the huge grin you're looking for, but I guarantee the personal connection will be rewarding for both you and Debbie Downer.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
The man of my dreams.
Wow. I looked back at my last post dated at the end of March, and couldn't believe I'd let so much time elapse without writing a post. This was especially shocking since so much has changed in my life, and also because many of you have harassed...some threatened...me to write more. Yeah, the very end of that last sentence was a lie. :-)
Anyhow, let me catch you up to speed. I'll try to do this quickly, as the main reason I was dying to write a new post today has nothing to do with this paragraph. In February, I resigned from my job working in Ag marketing for Farm Credit and began a new career with Alliance Grazing Group (Alliance Dairies). I'm now working as project manager and marketer ( and future cheesemaker) of Alliance Grazing Group's up and coming artisan cheese business. This move in my life was totally unexpected, but my innate excitement at the opportunity proved to me that this was God's plan for my life. This was further confirmed when I met a handsome, yet smelly (he only smelled at the time because he was hard at work!), young man during one of my tours of the grazing dairies. This young man (still handsome and smells very nice when not hard at work) is now my boyfriend. Was it coincidence that my new job lead me to meeting David...AT A DAIRY? I think not.
Now that I've concluded that last paragraph, I realize that it has everything to do with this whole post. "What's that?" you ask. It's having complete faith in God and recognizing that as much as you want to go your own way sometimes, He always knows best and will provide if you follow. Luckily for my stubborn lil' booty, my eyes have been opened.
Several weeks ago, my dad, mom, grandma and I came before the church we've been going to for several years to become members. My dad and I, having been Methodist most our lives, had to be baptized for this to happen. We decided last week that we would be baptized in church today.
Knowing the symbolism behind the action of baptism made this a very exciting and emotional day for me, but it was what happened last night in my sleep that really made this an emotional and meaningful day. Somewhat anxious that I would miss my alarm (I had to get to church earlier than usual and still had a 45 minute drive to get there), I woke up several times to check my clock. It was sometime in between those breaks that I had this dream...
It felt like it was real. Everything was present day. I knew it was Sunday and I needed to get to church. I was dressed in my Sunday best only to get to church and realize I'd forgotten I was supposed to bring clothes to wear under the gown for my baptism. I freaked out and made an emergency trip to...you guessed it...the Super Wal-Mart. I ended up buying something and tried it on at my Granny's house, and of course, it didn't fit. I began searching my grandma's house looking for an old work shirt and some type of shorts. I found nothing. Defeated, I walked into Granny's living room and was about in tears. That's when my grandpa "Papa" entered the room and looked at me. I was frozen in disbelief knowing Papa had passed away more than 10 years ago. He gave me a big grin like he used to do, but didn't speak because, just as I remembered him in my early high school years and his last years of life, he suffered from a major stroke he'd had many years before. He couldn't speak back then, but you could feel in his eyes and through his facial expressions that he understood what was happening. Sometimes he would grunt or make gestures, but as frustrating as it was for him, he was not able to verbalize his thoughts. I smiled back and asked him a question. He answered me plain as day.
I awoke in tears trying to separate reality from my dreams. It seemed so real, and the only thing that was out of the ordinary from present day was my Papa, who had found his voice again. He was as he'd been born. He was whole.
Many people claim to have had near-God encounters. While, I've felt the presence of God on a beautiful day in nature or through special moments with my family, I've never felt anything like this. Some may say this was just my brain's imagination making up things in my head, but I cannot discredit the closeness I felt to my grandpa and, through him, the closeness I felt to God.
I'm known by many of you as an amusing person and blogger, so I hope you got some chuckles from the first couple of paragraphs of this post. I know the remainder was certainly not a laugh fest. And...if you thought it was...shame on you. :-) I'll do my best to work on a comedic topic for the next post. Until then...take care!
Torie
P.S.- I posted something on Facebook this morning about my upcoming baptism, and was overwhelmed by the "likes" and responses I received. It's good to know the community of believers is alive and well!
Anyhow, let me catch you up to speed. I'll try to do this quickly, as the main reason I was dying to write a new post today has nothing to do with this paragraph. In February, I resigned from my job working in Ag marketing for Farm Credit and began a new career with Alliance Grazing Group (Alliance Dairies). I'm now working as project manager and marketer ( and future cheesemaker) of Alliance Grazing Group's up and coming artisan cheese business. This move in my life was totally unexpected, but my innate excitement at the opportunity proved to me that this was God's plan for my life. This was further confirmed when I met a handsome, yet smelly (he only smelled at the time because he was hard at work!), young man during one of my tours of the grazing dairies. This young man (still handsome and smells very nice when not hard at work) is now my boyfriend. Was it coincidence that my new job lead me to meeting David...AT A DAIRY? I think not.
Now that I've concluded that last paragraph, I realize that it has everything to do with this whole post. "What's that?" you ask. It's having complete faith in God and recognizing that as much as you want to go your own way sometimes, He always knows best and will provide if you follow. Luckily for my stubborn lil' booty, my eyes have been opened.
Several weeks ago, my dad, mom, grandma and I came before the church we've been going to for several years to become members. My dad and I, having been Methodist most our lives, had to be baptized for this to happen. We decided last week that we would be baptized in church today.
Knowing the symbolism behind the action of baptism made this a very exciting and emotional day for me, but it was what happened last night in my sleep that really made this an emotional and meaningful day. Somewhat anxious that I would miss my alarm (I had to get to church earlier than usual and still had a 45 minute drive to get there), I woke up several times to check my clock. It was sometime in between those breaks that I had this dream...
It felt like it was real. Everything was present day. I knew it was Sunday and I needed to get to church. I was dressed in my Sunday best only to get to church and realize I'd forgotten I was supposed to bring clothes to wear under the gown for my baptism. I freaked out and made an emergency trip to...you guessed it...the Super Wal-Mart. I ended up buying something and tried it on at my Granny's house, and of course, it didn't fit. I began searching my grandma's house looking for an old work shirt and some type of shorts. I found nothing. Defeated, I walked into Granny's living room and was about in tears. That's when my grandpa "Papa" entered the room and looked at me. I was frozen in disbelief knowing Papa had passed away more than 10 years ago. He gave me a big grin like he used to do, but didn't speak because, just as I remembered him in my early high school years and his last years of life, he suffered from a major stroke he'd had many years before. He couldn't speak back then, but you could feel in his eyes and through his facial expressions that he understood what was happening. Sometimes he would grunt or make gestures, but as frustrating as it was for him, he was not able to verbalize his thoughts. I smiled back and asked him a question. He answered me plain as day.
I awoke in tears trying to separate reality from my dreams. It seemed so real, and the only thing that was out of the ordinary from present day was my Papa, who had found his voice again. He was as he'd been born. He was whole.
Many people claim to have had near-God encounters. While, I've felt the presence of God on a beautiful day in nature or through special moments with my family, I've never felt anything like this. Some may say this was just my brain's imagination making up things in my head, but I cannot discredit the closeness I felt to my grandpa and, through him, the closeness I felt to God.
I'm known by many of you as an amusing person and blogger, so I hope you got some chuckles from the first couple of paragraphs of this post. I know the remainder was certainly not a laugh fest. And...if you thought it was...shame on you. :-) I'll do my best to work on a comedic topic for the next post. Until then...take care!
Torie
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| Picture of a rainbow David sent me this morning with text: "Sign of good things today!" He was right on target! |
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Eating for a future of two.
When I first began toying with the idea of having my own blog, my biggest fear was not having enough material to write about. I mean, what would happen if I got through three posts, and then realized I was a cow who'd dried up...run out of the good stuff? To solve this, I invested in a small notebook that would fit in my purse, and I always kept it with me to jot down funny things I thought, witnessed or experienced firsthand. After about 22 thoughts were recorded, I decided I was safe to invest my time in creating a blog. Tor's Circus was born.
Now, I look back and I find it funny that I ever had this fear of running out of material. Anyone who knows me, knows I am rarely caught speechless (any men who have caused this to happen have been truly impressed with themselves...as they should've been). My mind is always churning, and the situations in which I find myself usually evoke a decent story. As is life. Isn't that where the best comedians find jokes for their acts? Life? Sure, sometimes someone will crack me up with an absurd scenario I know will never occur, but it's usually the jokes I can relate to..."Yeah, I know exactly the person she's talking about..." that are the most hilarious.
The reason behind that whole last paragraph: life has dealt me so many funny stories and thoughts since I bought that notebook, that I haven't even used up all the ideas I initially recorded. Who's ready for throwback night? I came across one of my recorded thoughts, and it struck an interest in me again because it's something I've been around a lot lately...pregnant women.
The recording in my notebook was from a time when I recalled seeing one of my friend's pictures on Facebook. She had an entire album dedicated to her pregnancy growth. There was a shot of her almost every week, revealing how much bigger the bump had become. Now, don't get me wrong...I'm not knocking my friend. I think it's very sweet, and it's crazy amazing how much a woman's body will change for that little person growing inside her. However, having never experienced this before, I'll admit it made me laugh.
Now that all you pregnant...or once pregnant...women think I am the most horrible person ever, please let me explain myself. Seeing these pictures reminded me of how my figure can change drastically, but it's usually the effects of a very large meal. Wouldn't it be hilarious if I started a photo album dedicated to my meals? Pictures of my belly hanging over my pants with captions kinda like this..."Brazilian Steakhouse: three pounds gained...fried cheesecake with two scoops of frozen heaven: pack on another two pounds." The thought of this made me hysterical. I may do it someday, but right now the thought of my mother killing me from embarrassment outweighs the hilariousness. You're welcome, mom.
Baby showers. I've been to a lot of them lately. Okay, just two. But...they were within two weeks of each other, so with the Target gift registry, it sure seemed like a lot of baby going 'round. Shopping for baby showers...do you really want to get me started? One would think it would be so simple with the very helpful gift registries available nowadays. Wrong. Both times it took me at least an hour to leave with three or four items. I teased one of my friends at her shower and told her I did what any single, non-parent friend would do: I went straight to the toy aisle. She and I both knew this wasn't a joke. That's exactly where I went first. Who wants to buy diapers or miniature nail clippers? I'm not responsible for a child yet, so until that day comes, I will still be the friend buying the fun stuff the baby could probably forgo.
Baby shower bonus: food. Where there are pregnant women, there will be good food (although sometimes the combos might be weird because of strange cravings. Luckily, those throwing the shower know not every guest will be pregnant and craving dill pickles, leftover milk from Cheerios, hot wings...). I was waiting in the food line at the last shower I attended and was talking to a soon-to-be mother (not the baby mama of honor). She mentioned something about eating for two, and it made me feel a little left out. And then it made me angry. What if I never get a chance to have kids? Is it fair that these women get to pig out "for two" while I stand by and eat for one? No way! I grabbed three desserts instead of one, and told myself I was eating for future possibilities. The anger subsided and a sugar coma crept in to fill the void.
That's pretty much all I've got for this post. Plus, I know pregnant women are hormonal, so I'd like to stop this before I get any hate Facebook messages, or one of them makes me watch a Baby Einstein video. I really do think pregnancy is a beautiful thing (unless you get those 4-D pictures taken of the baby...those things are downright creepy, in my opinion) and am very excited for all my recently new mommy friends...or soon-to-be baby mamas. I'm sure at one point, before the times of baby fever set in, you were just like me...trying to understand why you were frowned upon if you took more than one piece of cake, right?
Happy Lamaze class to you ladies. Thanks for sharing these ideas for my blog post, and thanks for sharing your baby shower food for my ambitious future.
Now, I look back and I find it funny that I ever had this fear of running out of material. Anyone who knows me, knows I am rarely caught speechless (any men who have caused this to happen have been truly impressed with themselves...as they should've been). My mind is always churning, and the situations in which I find myself usually evoke a decent story. As is life. Isn't that where the best comedians find jokes for their acts? Life? Sure, sometimes someone will crack me up with an absurd scenario I know will never occur, but it's usually the jokes I can relate to..."Yeah, I know exactly the person she's talking about..." that are the most hilarious.
The reason behind that whole last paragraph: life has dealt me so many funny stories and thoughts since I bought that notebook, that I haven't even used up all the ideas I initially recorded. Who's ready for throwback night? I came across one of my recorded thoughts, and it struck an interest in me again because it's something I've been around a lot lately...pregnant women.
The recording in my notebook was from a time when I recalled seeing one of my friend's pictures on Facebook. She had an entire album dedicated to her pregnancy growth. There was a shot of her almost every week, revealing how much bigger the bump had become. Now, don't get me wrong...I'm not knocking my friend. I think it's very sweet, and it's crazy amazing how much a woman's body will change for that little person growing inside her. However, having never experienced this before, I'll admit it made me laugh.
Now that all you pregnant...or once pregnant...women think I am the most horrible person ever, please let me explain myself. Seeing these pictures reminded me of how my figure can change drastically, but it's usually the effects of a very large meal. Wouldn't it be hilarious if I started a photo album dedicated to my meals? Pictures of my belly hanging over my pants with captions kinda like this..."Brazilian Steakhouse: three pounds gained...fried cheesecake with two scoops of frozen heaven: pack on another two pounds." The thought of this made me hysterical. I may do it someday, but right now the thought of my mother killing me from embarrassment outweighs the hilariousness. You're welcome, mom.
Baby showers. I've been to a lot of them lately. Okay, just two. But...they were within two weeks of each other, so with the Target gift registry, it sure seemed like a lot of baby going 'round. Shopping for baby showers...do you really want to get me started? One would think it would be so simple with the very helpful gift registries available nowadays. Wrong. Both times it took me at least an hour to leave with three or four items. I teased one of my friends at her shower and told her I did what any single, non-parent friend would do: I went straight to the toy aisle. She and I both knew this wasn't a joke. That's exactly where I went first. Who wants to buy diapers or miniature nail clippers? I'm not responsible for a child yet, so until that day comes, I will still be the friend buying the fun stuff the baby could probably forgo.
Baby shower bonus: food. Where there are pregnant women, there will be good food (although sometimes the combos might be weird because of strange cravings. Luckily, those throwing the shower know not every guest will be pregnant and craving dill pickles, leftover milk from Cheerios, hot wings...). I was waiting in the food line at the last shower I attended and was talking to a soon-to-be mother (not the baby mama of honor). She mentioned something about eating for two, and it made me feel a little left out. And then it made me angry. What if I never get a chance to have kids? Is it fair that these women get to pig out "for two" while I stand by and eat for one? No way! I grabbed three desserts instead of one, and told myself I was eating for future possibilities. The anger subsided and a sugar coma crept in to fill the void.
That's pretty much all I've got for this post. Plus, I know pregnant women are hormonal, so I'd like to stop this before I get any hate Facebook messages, or one of them makes me watch a Baby Einstein video. I really do think pregnancy is a beautiful thing (unless you get those 4-D pictures taken of the baby...those things are downright creepy, in my opinion) and am very excited for all my recently new mommy friends...or soon-to-be baby mamas. I'm sure at one point, before the times of baby fever set in, you were just like me...trying to understand why you were frowned upon if you took more than one piece of cake, right?
Happy Lamaze class to you ladies. Thanks for sharing these ideas for my blog post, and thanks for sharing your baby shower food for my ambitious future.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Music: The song of my life.
Hello. My name is Torie, and I have an addiction called music. I allow it to take over my body, mind and soul pretty much whenever it wishes. It can take me to a crazy high or a depressing low. With music, I have no self control.
Yeah, so maybe it's not an addiction (like my apparent addiction to stay up late and type these insane blog posts...by the way, sorry it's been so long...missed y'all!), but it is a huge aspect of my life. I always knew how much I loved music, but didn't realize the control it had over my mind until tonight.
I attended a TRX class (it involves weight resistance with straps hanging from the ceiling...look it up) at my gym, in attempts to take my personal workout goals to the next level. It worked. I thought I was going to puke and maybe die. Whatever the case, it was intense, but my abs and arms are much tighter for it. And...I already hurt. I hopped on the treadmill to slow my heart rate...aka-stop my panting. I got lost in the music coming from my iPod, and soon found myself playing air drums and guitar, and even mouthing the words to the song. My realization of this soon lead me to grinning ear-to-ear, just because I now know the secret everyone else knows: I am, in fact, a hopeless moron. It's okay, I've accepted it and am prepared to live my life with this social disorder.
When I was finally able to stop grinning, I looked around and realized that all of the people working out looked like they fit into the beat of my song perfectly (no, I am not on pain killers right now...and wasn't then). It's like those commercials where they show a neighborhood, and all the sudden all these conflicting city sounds come together to harmonize beautifully. Unfortunately, not everyone in my mental gym music video was beautiful...but hey, they're in the gym. They're obviously trying to do something about it. That was a joke. I'm sure they are beautiful in their own ways.
Then another thought hit me. Luckily, I don't mean literally, because it was quite an impressive thought. Had it literally hit me, I would've gone flying off the treadmill and into the full length gym mirror like that first vampire movie. Don't play. You girls (and some guys) know exactly what I'm talking about..."Bella! Bella!"
Okay, so about this impressive thought that figuratively hit me. You know how flash mobs are all the craze these days? None of this would ever happen without someone's buy in. Someone has to start with this crazy idea...set the time, place, music, dance moves...and this amazing thing comes to life. I'm sure it took one out-of-the-box person to figure this out and say, "What the heck! It may be crazy, but let's see what happens..." I mean surely that initial person knew if no one bought in, he or she would look like a total idiot. But, he or she was prepared to take that risk, and creativity and imagination came to life.
After this profound thought, I pondered about starting my own gym flash mob. I mean heck, I already have the air drums and guitar in place. My decision: some things are much more fun to leave in my head. I really believe that secret smile gives me the "mysterious girl" look. Or...maybe, just maybe, someone thought the nasty gas the guy on the treadmill beside me passed (if you don't understand this, read the earlier posts) really belonged to me.
Moral of the story: great ideas are born from people who aren't afraid of stepping forward and looking like a complete idiot sometimes. Get caught red handed for birthing a genius idea, not for passing gas.
Yeah, so maybe it's not an addiction (like my apparent addiction to stay up late and type these insane blog posts...by the way, sorry it's been so long...missed y'all!), but it is a huge aspect of my life. I always knew how much I loved music, but didn't realize the control it had over my mind until tonight.
I attended a TRX class (it involves weight resistance with straps hanging from the ceiling...look it up) at my gym, in attempts to take my personal workout goals to the next level. It worked. I thought I was going to puke and maybe die. Whatever the case, it was intense, but my abs and arms are much tighter for it. And...I already hurt. I hopped on the treadmill to slow my heart rate...aka-stop my panting. I got lost in the music coming from my iPod, and soon found myself playing air drums and guitar, and even mouthing the words to the song. My realization of this soon lead me to grinning ear-to-ear, just because I now know the secret everyone else knows: I am, in fact, a hopeless moron. It's okay, I've accepted it and am prepared to live my life with this social disorder.
When I was finally able to stop grinning, I looked around and realized that all of the people working out looked like they fit into the beat of my song perfectly (no, I am not on pain killers right now...and wasn't then). It's like those commercials where they show a neighborhood, and all the sudden all these conflicting city sounds come together to harmonize beautifully. Unfortunately, not everyone in my mental gym music video was beautiful...but hey, they're in the gym. They're obviously trying to do something about it. That was a joke. I'm sure they are beautiful in their own ways.
Then another thought hit me. Luckily, I don't mean literally, because it was quite an impressive thought. Had it literally hit me, I would've gone flying off the treadmill and into the full length gym mirror like that first vampire movie. Don't play. You girls (and some guys) know exactly what I'm talking about..."Bella! Bella!"
Okay, so about this impressive thought that figuratively hit me. You know how flash mobs are all the craze these days? None of this would ever happen without someone's buy in. Someone has to start with this crazy idea...set the time, place, music, dance moves...and this amazing thing comes to life. I'm sure it took one out-of-the-box person to figure this out and say, "What the heck! It may be crazy, but let's see what happens..." I mean surely that initial person knew if no one bought in, he or she would look like a total idiot. But, he or she was prepared to take that risk, and creativity and imagination came to life.
After this profound thought, I pondered about starting my own gym flash mob. I mean heck, I already have the air drums and guitar in place. My decision: some things are much more fun to leave in my head. I really believe that secret smile gives me the "mysterious girl" look. Or...maybe, just maybe, someone thought the nasty gas the guy on the treadmill beside me passed (if you don't understand this, read the earlier posts) really belonged to me.
Moral of the story: great ideas are born from people who aren't afraid of stepping forward and looking like a complete idiot sometimes. Get caught red handed for birthing a genius idea, not for passing gas.
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| This is how I think outside of the box. And dressed to go to work in on Halloween last year. |
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