39 and Holding

As I find myself staring down the last year of my thirties I wonder how I got here. How did I become the girl who no one loves? This birthday is hitting me harder than I thought it would because, even though I have a year to go, I've accepted the fact that one of my biggest fears is imminent:

I will be single when I turn 40

Gulp. It may not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but it is the death of yet another dream, my most cherished one in fact, and it has shattered my ability to hope. Last year was unkind to me and all I want to do now is crawl under my covers and stay there for a really, really long time. I don't want anyone close to the gaping hole in my heart because it's too painful. I already gave up my dreams of children and a family to call my own, and even though it isn't the end of the world, being an Old Maid is not something I aspired to.

But hey, at least I can hog the remote, spend my money how I choose and set the thermostat where I want.....those are the "positives" my married friends point out to me. Yeah, FYI that's NOT helpful. I do, however, have Europe, and even though I often travel alone I enjoy people watching while sipping tea in an elegant cafe. I also love seeing art that I never see here, and glimpsing history that was left out of World History 101. It's a pleasant break from my life of boredom and I'd rather explore this beautiful world than not, even if I have to do it alone. Do you think it counts if I turn 39 in a foreign country? Can I choose to stay 39 until I get married? If so, I promise I'll give up the remote control without complaining, but money and the thermostat will take some serious negotiations!

We're Not In Kansas Anymore...

Thump, thump, thump, the sound emanating from the bass speakers in the low-rider in front of us should have been the first clue. The KISS 99.5 FM van should have been the second. And the vehicles, a mix of Mustangs, low-riders and tricked-out trucks should have been the third. We were definitely not in Kansas anymore.

Saturday was a beautiful, sunny day, one of those days that makes you happy that you live in South Texas, at least until summer. After a leisurely morning, and a long, flower-filled walk I waited for my friend Amy and her two girls to pick me up. We were headed to the local dog show, a free event that we decided to attend to find out if it resembled the "Best In Show" movie at all. Plus we wanted to DO something, and something different at that. So off we drove not sure what to expect, which may have been a good thing.

Once we arrived at the event, we were surprised when the parking attendant told us that it would cost $5, wasn't it free? We clearly looked puzzled, which caused him to peruse our vehicle, a huge suburban containing two almost middle-aged women, and two adorable girls in the back seat, one sporting long braids. At that point HE looked puzzled and decided to investigate the situation further.

Attendant: "Um, what event are you here for?"
Amy: "The dog show???"
Attendant: "This is the 'Tat Expo', the dog show is at gate E."
Amy & Robin: "Oh"
Robin: "Did he say TATTOO EXPO?"
Amy: "I think he did"
Girls: "Giggle, giggle"

At this point we had completed a u-turn and decided to stop and ask the attendant if he did indeed say "Tattoo Expo", surely we were mistaken.

Amy: "What event is this?"
Attendant: "The Tattoo Expo"
Amy: "Okaaaay, how do we get to the dog show?"
Attendant: "Take a left out of the parking lot, make a left at the light and then left at gate E"
Amy: "Okay, thank you!"

As we drove away we all broke into guffaws, we were clearly out of place. What could have possibly given us away? K-love on the radio? The suburban? The wide-eyed innocence of Amy's girls? Our lack of body art and piercings? Now, I'm not judging those who sport tattoos and piercings, but clearly 2 straight-laced, former BSF leaders and fresh-scrubbed girls did NOT fit the "Tat Expo" demographic!

When we finally arrived at our preferred event, after waiting for the Mustang driver to get directions to the Tattoo Expo, I knew we were in the right place. The Cadillacs, motor homes and, um the smell. We had definitely found the dog show. The girls bounded out and we made our way to an open arena filled with, well, dogs. Lots and lots of dogs. The humans were an afterthought.

After being assaulted with the lovely odor of wet dog and other disgusting smells I'd rather not describe in detail, we decided to watch the show. The sporting class was up so we took our seats and watched women dressed in pantyhose and heels, and men in suits parade their dogs around in complete silence because there were no announcers telling us what was happening. If you didn't happen to be in the know you were toast. Amy and I started asking the people around us and some were helpful and some would rather have been talking to their dogs. In fact, I thought I was having a conversation with a lady who kept talking after answering my question. I mistakenly thought she was talking to me, but nope, she was talking to her dog. It was kind of like that weird feeling you get when someone walks past you and says hi and you say hi because you think they're talking to you, and then you realize they have a blue tooth and they're really on the phone and you've just responded to someone who wasn't talking to you and who is looking at you like you're crazy.......yeah, kind of like that. Awkward!

So then we decided to walk around and we saw even MORE dogs. Most of them were being groomed for the main event, and I have to be honest and say that the smell was 100 times worse in the grooming area! We looked at Poodles, a weird, hairless Chinese dog, Labradors, Golden Retrievers, Pugs, Collies, Bulldogs, Sheep Dogs and even a Texas Chihuahua a.k.a. a Great Dane. That dog was 6-ft tall when he stood on his hind legs. And the slobber, ugh, so gross! We were terrified that he would shake his head and cover us in goo....

After about an hour we were getting hungry and thirsty but there was not a water bottle or snack stand to be found for us humans, there were, however, plenty for the dogs. There was "Bark Avenue", a nice little store selling fancy dog beds, frames, calendars, etc. The "Pet Deli" was exactly that, a deli for the dogs. "B.A.R.F." sold bones and other canine essentials. And there was even an artist willing to draw caricatures of your dog for a small fee. Worse still was the following sign on the bathroom door: "No Dogs Allowed", that could be taken the wrong way folks.

Finally we were longing for Kansas and food and drinks. On the way out we discovered one small table selling mixed nuts. But honestly, we were not even tempted when they offered us samples stating that they were for humans. Just the thought of the Great Dane walking by and drooling in those nuts almost made us B.A.R.F. :-) Instead we opted for Mexican Food and a relaxing afternoon at the park. Good times all around.

14,000 Days

Sometimes a day seems soooo looooong and sometimes it seems shorter than my mother. But in reality time doesn't move faster or slower depending on my mood. It stays the same. Tick-tock, tick-tock, 60 seconds makes the big hand move, 60 minutes makes the little hand move and before I know it time has run away from me and the day has slipped into a memory. Over 14,000 days so far and only God knows how many more are to come.

When I was younger my faith was kind of like my ticket to immortality, a way to be assured of an endless supply of days. Of course, it was also the best way I could think of to avoid all of that fire and brimstone the preacher was always talking about, but I digress. There's a popular CCM band that sings "Take me to the other side, cuz I wanna live forever" and I'll admit that living forever in heaven sounds pretty great. No pain, no suffering, mansions and streets of gold. Who would turn that down? It's just that focusing on the "living forever" part kind of misses the point of living NOW. And no matter how long or short the days, I'm still in the "now and the not yet" part of living. I haven't graduated to heaven yet, and BTW I'm perfectly fine with that!

There is still so much to learn before I am finally complete, and while I'm growing toward the woman God intended when he first imagined me, I'm still SO. FAR. AWAY. Salvation is much more than my personal "get out of hell free card." For me it has become more about reconciliation to my Creator; more about a vibrant, passionate and intimate relationship that quenches my dry and thirsty soul and awakens my numb heart to the experience of living. In him I live and move and have my being - what joy I get from a living, breathing relationship with Christ! It's amazingly beautiful to contemplate the mystery of reconciliation. But, part of reconciling involves looking back, which is something I normally eschew.

Popular culture tells us to never look back, to never stop thinking about tomorrow. But I've learned that the process of looking back, although painful, is helpful in determining why I do things the way I do, good or bad. I'm not talking about simply remembering, I'm talking about a serious in-depth examination of life. Many people never do this. They live convinced of their "rightness" about every issue or opinion, and try to convince everyone else of their "rightness" too. They live to control or fix others instead of themselves. Hm, I wonder how I know that? Ha! Now that I've decided to move beyond that kind of thinking I'm experiencing serious growing pains. Yet, time and time again the pain of examination leads to complete freedom and reconciliation with my Creator.

I've come too far to stop now, and I'm determined to complete this process and see where it takes me, no matter if I have 1 or 14,000 days remaining.

Inmate #107

So here's the deal. Apparently I'm off my rocker. And no one bothered to tell me until Saturday. You see, after a 3-year hiatus I will soon be strapping on my backpack and leaving on a jet plane for another European adventure. That sounds pleasant enough, right? Counting a few sheep in a sleeping berth while being rocketed to a former Eastern block country. Exploring the caves of the Karst Region of Slovenia despite claustrophobia. Taking in the studs ;-) at the Lipizzaner farm. Getting lost a million times in a foreign city. No news there, been there and done that and I've lived to tell about it each time.

But this time I was contemplating something totally different. And I have no idea why except that I've been a little bored of late. You know how it is, the same routine, the same city, the same ole' life without any excitement or adventure. So I've been reading my guidebook and looking up websites and generally trying to stick to a tight budget while paying for hotel, transportation, food, etc., with a devalued dollar.

And then I found out about Hostel Celica. It's a restored "detention" facility, a.k.a. former prison, which is apparently THE place to stay for backpackers trekking through former Eastern block countries. And we all know that I like to be different so my curiosity was piqued. How unique to stay in a "cell" that has been decorated by a cool, hip designer. The place has an art gallery. Laundry facilities. Cafe. Internet. TV room. AND, it's cheap - really cheap.

Of course, I overlooked the fact that it is state run. Anything state run in a former Eastern block country should invite suspicion. And I wasn't thrilled that I would have to share a bathroom, but I figured I could survive that for 3 nights. And being required to leave my cell open for the daily tours was disconcerting to say the least.... But the kicker was discovering that it was next to the city's hippest teen club frequented by those looking for drugs, sex and rock-n-roll - and um, well I'm NOT. Then there is the lack of sleep from the ongoing party next door, and nothing I could do about it except get grumpy and sick from sleep deprivation. Uh-oh.

Thankfully someone whose initials are LA ;-) pointed out my obviously flawed thinking by asking a few questions such as:

1. Do they allow cell phones? (please tell me you get the pun because that is funny!)
2. If so, are you allowed only one call?
3. If valuables are required to be kept in the safe deposit box does that mean it's only a minimum security prison?

Great, now I'm questioning my sanity. Can you say PROZAC? Ultimately I reconsidered and booked a nice B&B. MOSTLY out of concern for my safety but also because I'D NEVER live it down if I actually stayed in a former Eastern block prison! So now, instead of being Inmate #107, I will be plain, ole' boring Robin from Texas. I'll try to enjoy the real bed, breakfast, tea, Internet, telephone, room service, en suite toilet and shower..... Prison? Yeah, WHAT was I thinking?