training pants.

The only work training I can think of that I'd truly enjoy is one that involved baking cupcakes. Unfortunately the training I attended today involved nothing of the like. In fact, I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into when I was voluntold to go. No, instead of whipping up deliciousness, I was learning how to prevent crises from occurring in the workplace. By crises, I'm talking about people throwing things, choking people, biting, etc. And my job? Deflect. Deflect. Deflect. Granted, I'm sure it would have been much more engaging had I not been sitting there thinking about all of the awesome time I could have been spending with my mom, buuuttttt instead I was doing all I could not to allow my disdain to seep into my facial expressions or body language. Easier said than done.

Luckily we were provided workbooks, the perfect attention-grabber. Mine's now filled full with unimpressive doodles and semi-legible notes. There was ONE thing, however, that nabbed my undivided attention. It was this hot mess of a picture:

HOT pants! Considering how much I love a great pair of high pants, this picture really did the trick to fully engage me in the class. If not for this picture, I probably wouldn't know how to defend myself against an attacker now. Lucky me.

fridge.

I went home for lunch today and added something special to the grocery list Bax started . . .

Our fridge is rad.

MOM visit!

“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be. When I let go of what I have, I receive what I need.” - Tao Te Ching

Good stuff.

My mom is traveling the brutal 9 hours down to Clovis tomorrow soooo naturally I'm as excited as an elephant in a peanut shop! I have a mini itinerary of what we'll be doing:

1. Thursday dining in: Bax, J and I are making dinner . . . and considering our successfully delicious meal last night of mashed potatoes, beans (mmmm beanzzzzzz) and chicken wings, I think we'll be just fine. Ooo maybe I'll try out my mom's recipe for meatloaf . . . MOM! MEATLOAF!! Just a thought.

2. Friday I have to work--gross--so she's on her own for a few hours to explore the wonderfulness of Clovis. There are definitely places I'll slap her hand for going to (hellooo Southwest-side of town), but she's creative so I'm sure she'll be just fine. I feel like the rest of the night more than likely will entail plenty of wine and plenty of girl talk. And I do mean: Girl. Talk. Dance. Fest. 2011. These moves didn't just appear one day! They came straight from the lady herself: mi madre.

3. Saturday will be Huskermania around the Nancy Lo' household. I might even make some guacamolesss. Watch out; things could get CrAzY! . . . then Saturday night I'll cruise the streets of Portales (Note: If anyone has a real classy purple low-rider with tinted windows, I could really use one) and show her campus, then treat her to a fancy Italian dinner at Vines. Repeat: CrAzY.

4. Sunday will be an early-morning sad goodbye sesh as she heads down the road to Nebraskerville and I trek the opposite direction to Santa Fe to pick up MY SKIIIIIIS! I've been getting overly- and probably awkwardly-excited for ski season sooo if I don't get some powder splashed in my face fast SOON I might lose it.

Kidding. But really.

Looks like it's going to be a great weekend.

finding inspiration.

I joined the O Club today. One of my professors is big into Oprah and although I'm pretty late in the game for hopping on the O bandwagon, it's better late than never, right? Call it a typical "woman" move, but there's nothing wrong with a little inspiration every now and then . . .

In fact, last night I came home to the delightful smell of tacos. (Not being sarcastic here.) I love having roommates who A. cook for each other, and B. care about each other. One of my roommates asked me where I'd been and said he thought I typically got home from class around 6:30 instead of 8:00. Seriously, touched my heart a little. I love George and Stella, but they can't exactly show the same kind of concern. They just want to make sure I'm feeding them their wet food every morning, BUT last night we had a little revelation. I signed off on a skype date with my loverface and next thing I know, I have a George-hat and Stella-necklace. A STELLA necklace. This was huge for us--and now I KNOW she loves me and I'd even stretch it to say she cares. Yes, I'm blogging about my cats again . . . look, there really are no limits to love and I'll take it where I get it.

And so I digress . . .

To thoroughly understand the world, to explain it, to despise it, may be the thing great thinkers do. But I'm only interested in being able to love the world, not to despise it, not to hate it and me, to be able to look upon it and me and all things with love and admiration and great respect. - Herman Hesse

gestalt-isms.

You know when you're sitting in church and about five minutes into the sermon you realize it was written for you? Whatever was burdening your heart or bludgeoning your brain suddenly flows eloquently through the preacher's words, as if intended solely for you.

I experienced that tonight in my Counseling Theories class.

Sometime during the first hour of class my brain caught hold of a few menacing thoughts and, despite unicorn-filled efforts, just wouldn't loosen its grip. Instead of wallowing, I busted out my trusty journal and started an entry (stop judging . . . I love me a good journal sesh) more to dissociate than to ruminate, if you will. A few sentences later, realized that not only was my professor trying to say something poignant, but he was looking directly at me. Sheeeoooooooottttaaaahhhhh. You know that feeling? When you know that they know that you're not paying attention but they require your undivided attention . . . I digress. At that moment I put down the pen and turned my listening ears back on.

We were discussing a chapter on Gestalt Theory which, in my novice opinion, is highly relevant in the new-aged Western school of thought. "Unfinished business," Dr. C explained, "defines things from the past--thoughts, actions, decisions--that affect your here and now." Well hot-damn he was onto something with this. He had us envision our most embarrassing moment and wait for the physiological reaction that accompanies the memory. The only thing I could think of was during my sophomore year of high school when I ripped my pants (no less acting like a fool) in choir and had to get my brother out of shop class to take me home to change. The hot look Mr. Williams gave me was enough to fry an egg on an iceblock. I felt a little twinge in my belly thinking back on that. Interesting concept. Try it.

Long story short, I generally don't enjoy this particular professor's lectures, but this one hit home for some reason or another and I have this new-found appreciation for the guy. And truth be told, it's a much better way to look at things. Yay for grad school. :)

more new mexiventures.

Tonight I returned from a little city in the middle of nowhere, famous for two things (one public, one personal): 1. A 1947 alien UFO siting and 2. Just a few short years later, the birth of a one-day well-known engineer, also known as my future father-in-law (that's a lot of hyphens for one sentence).

Roswell, NM

Last night I didn't do much sight-seeing (unless you count the inside of Target . . . priorities people!), but today I walked around downtown to see what kind of things I could find. As it would turn out, the most interesting thing I found was some alien-printed toilet paper that I thought about bringing back for my roommates, but decided against it. "Oh hey guys, I found you a sweet roll of TP with aliens on it! Yay! . . . " They already think I'm weird enough, so I thought I probably shouldn't push it too much.

Anyway, I was in Roswell for a work training. I walked in with some pretty low expectations, but was pleasantly surprised to find myself enjoying the sessions. It didn't hurt that I was one of three in the class, instead of sitting in the back of a freezing cold classroom in a hard plastic chair taking notes (i.e. doodling) on a clipboard. One of my classmates was cracking me up (on the inside of course . . . I do have some tact) with her comments . . . she was a very Evangelical Christian and would say things like "Lord, guard my heart!" and "The Lord blesses you another month" and, my personal favorite, "Dern." While I'm not a huge fan of imposing one's beliefs on anyone else, I grew to appreciate her Southwestern Christian charm so when she told me, "Many blessings to you and your fiance as you plan your wedding and life together . . . God bless you and your family," I believed her. How many times do you get a sincere blessing like that? Once a week? Year? Lifetime? Chances are, it's not often enough. I'm holding onto this one.

Another thing that made me happy during the class was a little textie I got from one of my best girlies with THIS picture in it:

THIS IS THE DRESS I WORE TO PERFORM IN WITH THE SCARLET AND CREAM SINGERS! AND GUESS WHAT!? IT'S MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE! She found it in the S&C archive room where she works. My friends are the BEST.

sleepytime inspiration.

Ahhh hello Tuesday. Last night I raked in a solid 3 hours of sleep, so although the coffee is flowing like the salmon of Capistrano right now, I'm bound to be napping under my desk later today. I'm not above these things.

As I was spilling toothpaste all over God's creation this morning, I was thinking to myself, SELF: how do you choose to live this day with a mere three hours of beauty rest in your handbag? And here's what popped into my head:

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” -Howard Thurman

Funny, because I've been reading about a lot of existential psychology that centers on, more or less, this basic belief: live to be alive. I can't explain how happy I was that my brain turned to this. Today I will be alive. And tonight I will sleep like it's nobody's business. George best be giving up my pillow, the little sleepytime thief.