PSA: Weirdos at the gym

Over the last month or two, I've been trying to make myself go to the gym. I don't really like going to the gym, and I can't really deal with it when people say they "LOVE cardio." Mainly because cardio makes me hate everything. I literally do cardio to not die of diabetes or heart disease. I run because I imagine Death is chasing me. 

Chavo and I go to the YMCA. It's close to our apartment, it's cheaper than the other gyms, and we can typically avoid people that are super in-shape that judge us with their eyes. We are trying to go 3 times a week, so that the membership fee doesn't become a fat-tax, but we haven't gone this week so far, and I went by myself. Anyway, all that to say, I went to the gym today, but I had to psych myself up for about an hour to go.

It was pretty empty, there was just one other guy on one of their 20 treadmills. So I got on another treadmill a reasonable distance away. While I am not a man, I do know urinal etiquette, and treadmill etiquette is pretty similar.

Then there he was... I couldn't see him yet...

But I could smell him.

A man... I don't want to call him "old," because that seems mean. I'll just call him "retired." Because that isn't an opinion, it's a statement of fact. This retired man came into the gym, wearing a LOT of cologne. And got on the treadmill right. by. me.

At this point, there are three of us on treadmills. Before this man walked up, there were 18 treadmills that were totally free. But, he picked the one right next to mine. I had to breathe through my mouth because of the cologne that he had on. I was running and couldn't breathe through my nose. It epicly sucked.

I considered moving to another treadmill, but it would have been super obvious I was moving away from him. I didn't want to be a jerk to this man who obviously didn't know proper gym etiquette, it wasn't a cause for panic yet. I could still breathe through my mouth.

Then, he kept looking at my treadmill, very obviously. Now, I know that I like to sneak a peek at my neighbor's treadmills just to make sure I'm not too much of an out-of-shape loser. After all, if we get chased by a bear, I don't have to run faster than the bear, just faster than you. So I let this slide. However, my mind has already given this man 2 strikes. Too much cologne, and obvious staring at my treadmill are annoying enough. At least I have my earbuds in, so I can just pretend that this man isn't bugging the crap out of me, and just imagine how I'm going to tweet about this later.

The cologne smell is getting out of hand. As I type this, I want to take about 12 boiling showers, because I can still smell this cologne in my hair. Gross. It smells like an old church pew that has been marinating in Bengay and stale TV dinners.  And this man keeps staring at me, so I know I must be mouth-breathing too loud, but he's the jerkwad that chose to wear his nasty man-stench to the gym. Like, seriously, I barely even shower before I go to the gym. Deodrant smell is expected. Not this onslaught of smell that was from the treadmill on my right.

After my workout, I went to the stretching area, only to see this man two minutes later, looking at me. He then got on the stretching machine right next to me AND TRIED TO TALK TO ME. He asked me my name, but I pretended not to answer him.  This man isn't ignorant of gym etiquette, he's a creepazoid!! Dude, I'm not wearing makeup, I haven't showered, and you have no business talking to me right now. I have my earbuds in, I clearly don't feel like being all "Chatty Cathy" with you. You're older than my awesome grandfather, and you wear too much cologne! At that point, my manners flew out the window. I got off the stretching machine and ran out of the gym. Stupid cologne man.


I know that many of you know proper treadmill etiquette, but it seems that it is not common knowledge. So allow me to share.

1.) Do not get on a treadmill directly next to someone that you do not know, unless it is unavoidable. When in doubt, leave at least 1 or 2 treadmills between you.

2) Perfume and cologne are not only unnecessary, but a sensory insult to those around you at the gym. Your sweat makes it even worse. Deodrant however, is demanded.

3) If someone around you had in earbuds, and you do not know them, striking up a conversation is annoying.

4) Someone people don't feel like being hit on at the gym. In fact, I don't know any people who LIKE being hit on at the gym. But generally, if there is a girl that is not wearing any makeup and clearly hasn't showered, don't hit on her! Just say no.

Anyway, that's my public service announcement for this month. Treadmill etiquette, learn it, live it.

The more you know.

Can't figure my life out

Lately, I've been lazy.

I mean, I've been doing stuff, but only because I sort of feel like it.

I haven't worn makeup in 3 days. I haven't woken up before 9 since Saturday, and the only reason for that was because I had a craft show to do. And before that Saturday, I probably haven't woken up before 9 for about two weeks. I haven't showered before one in about two weeks. I'm not depressed, I'm really not. This crafting thing has been so much fun for me. The craft show that I did last Saturday was so much fun, I'm looking forward to the next one. But I just have been so messy lately.

So, I was in Michael's yesterday, and I was just wandering around, looking for ideas for my craft booth for thiscoming Saturday. Of course, one of the employees was making sure this unshowered, sweatshirt-wearing chick wasn't going to shoplift all their stuff and sell it for drugs. She asked if she could help me find anything, and I laughed and said "sorry, no, I can't figure my life out." She laughed, and said "when you figure your life out, let me know, then maybe we can't figure my life out, next."

I laughed, and I wandered a little longer. We talked a little bit about some things that I could add to the stuff in my shop, and she had no idea. So we wandered together. I found some stuff, and I'm sure it'll go over really well this Saturday. And I really hope that she wasn't just following me around because she was afraid I was going to hide all those items in my sweatshirt and run, but who really knows?

This crafting thing... I really love it. I'm having a blast selling my stuff, but I'm not going to lie, it's been a little discouraging. People really seem to like my stuff, which is fun, but I'm just so afraid of failing. Its been weird, liking my job so much, that I'm afraid that I'm going to fail and have to go back to a job that hates me. I like sitting on the floor, in my jammies, with a hot glue gun and a xacto knife, watching old episodes of trashy TV shows that have long since ended.

I'm not sure if I'm asking for help. Maybe I am. I just want this shop to work so bad, I can feel it in my heart. I know I love this. I love making things, and baking things, and glueing things, and painting things. I just want it to work so I don't have to do a job I don't like and never be home. I'll take all the hot-glue singed fingers in the world to keep this going.

So, if you would like to see what I'm all about, go to www.gingerspiceandeverythingnice.com and see my shop. My new items this week are leather cuff bracelets made from baseballs. They're so cute! And if you're in the DFW area, I'll be in Denton Community Market this Saturday morning. So come say hi!

See you next week!

Spare the rod, spoil the child

Hey, remember the time that I opened up a store and then promptly fell off the face of the earth for two weeks? Yeah, lets pretend for just a minute that that didn't happen. Because I want to share something really really cool.

Let me start off by saying that the story I'm about to tell is 100% true and did actually happen with me present:

So, once upon a time, I was sitting in a sermon, in a country/state that shall remain nameless, listening to a preacher that shall also remain nameless because... bless his freaking heart. In this sermon, he read from Proverbs 13:24 KJV "He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes." Yeah, we usually think of that verse as the "spare the rod, spoil the child verse".

Anyways, this nameless pastor used that verse to say that spanking your children with objects is not only biblical, but demanded by God as punishment. Yeah, I wish I were making this up. You know what else I wish I was making up? He brought CHILDREN up on the stage, as he had a large cane in his hand, and asked them individually "If you were disobedient, and I hit you with this cane, would you disobey again?" And as each child gave an obvious, timid "no," the pastor looked into the congregation with a smug grin, knowing that his way was right and we were all stupid and could go crawl in a ditch. Yeah, there wasn't a person in the audience that wasn't thoroughly uncomfortable during this sermon. It was all people talked about in church for the next several weeks.


The rest of this blog post is internet research, speculation, and a hearty dose of opinion. So put your big girl panties on, because I'm about to tear that terrifying preacher a new..... uhh... patch in his blue jeans. Because I've had my coffee this morning, and I'm ready to kick some hineys. I'm not going to try to delude myself into thinking I'm some sort of theological mastermind. I'm just really good at googling stuff.

So, I looked it up (Thanks Google, who needs an Masters in Divinity when you have the INTERNET!) and I saw that the Hebrew word for "rod" in Proverbs 13:24 is "shebet". Other parts of the Bible use "shebet" as a term for a "shepherd's rod."

Get ready for the jump.

I would like to place some speculation and say that the "shebet" in Proverbs 13:24 is a shepherd's rod. Whoa, hey now!

Guess what else I learned? There are five ways that a shepherd uses his rod.

1) A symbol of guardianship over the sheep.
2) To ward off invaders or animals attacking the flock.
3) The rod could be thrown very far, on the ground next to a wandering sheep, startling it back into the flock.
4) Counting (sheep were counted as they passed under the rod)
5) The rod was also used to part the wool of a sheep so that they shepherd could check for infections or wounds

The rod was not actually meant to hit the sheep! To hit the sheep with the rod would make the sheep both fear and hate the rod and the shepherd. It's a little hard to watch over a flock of sheep when they are afraid of you or hate you. So the rod was used for Authority, Security, Guardianship, Protection, and Care. Hm..

Get ready for another jump.

This verse is not supposed to be a verse on punishment. This is a verse on how to take care of your kids! Show them who the parent is, protect them from danger, warn them from trouble, watch over them, and make sure they're healthy. Obviously if you refuse to do those things, there is something weird about how you feel about your children. If you don't spank your kids, it doesn't mean that you don't love them.

This is not some sort of anti-spanking stance, I still don't know how I feel about it yet. But puh-leeeeease don't try to justify spanking your kids with this verse. It doesn't make sense. Find another reason. And if this verse was your only reason for spanking your kids, you may have a lot of thinking to do about punishment.

Take that, What's-His-Name!

I may send him this link... But that would be witchy. Muahaha!

See you next W...whenever. Maybe next week. Maybe not. It's a mystery.

I'm going to go find a stick to beat my dogs with now.

Poisonous

So if you have seen my Facebook or Instagram in the last 24 hours, you know that Chavo and I added another animal into our house two days ago.

Her name is Roux. She is fabulous.

Our other dog, Beignet, has been a little jealous of this newest addition. Now he actually has to SHARE attention, which he is not a fan of.

Yesterday, Chavo and I were out of the apartment, and I decided not to take my purse. I've been on a weird anti-purse kick because I got tired of carrying around a 7 pound bag of my own trash. However, Beignet managed to find a Hershey bar, that I had gotten from a friend's wedding, in my purse. He also managed to eat the entire thing just before we got home.

I found maybe 1 1/2 pieces of the bar left, it was still wet, and Beignet had chocolate all over his face. Roux was across the room, acting like chocolate was beneath her. So it was no doubt that Beignet had consumed this entire chocolate bar alone. I grabbed my keys and practically flew to CVS and got the biggest bottle of peroxide I could find. Then I hauled butt back to the apartment.

And it. Was. On.

I yanked Beignet down the steps and onto the grass, and poured as much peroxide as I could down his throat. I pulled, pried, sat on, wrestled, and begged my poor baby to drink this peroxide and rid himself of a poison that would surely make him very sick, if not die. And he fought me, bit me, and scratched me to try to stop me from force-feeding him this peroxide. The panic in his eyes broke my heart. The poison was just so delicious.

I cried and cried and cried. What had I done to this poor dog? I love this dog so much, and it was my fault that he made himself so sick and miserable. I just wanted to erase the last hour and take my purse with me to wherever it was we went. Oh, and I locked us out of the apartment and had to carry Beignet to the office to get the spare key. All the office needed to give me a spare key was my drivers license, which happened to be in my pocket thanks to my anti-purse kick.

I laid on the ground, petting my poor retching dog, with snot running down my chin and sobbing. My neighbors think I'm a peach, just FYI.

After soaking both of us from head to toe with peroxide, both of us with stains of dog barf on us, we laid on the apartment floor and were miserable together. And I just started think about why Beignet would eat something so bad for him.

It was the same reason most of us do things that are bad for us. The poison is just so delicious. We fill ourselves up with poison until we are sick or dying. We kill ourselves with delicious poison, and we fight those who would do anything in their power to save us. We kick and bite and scratch at those that love us most. Those that would have, and have, died so that we don't have to hurt like this anymore.

But ridding yourself of the poison hurts. It sometimes hurts worse than the poison before it kills us. We don't like it, we don't want it. Just bring us what we think will make us feel better, the old poison, or a new one.

Beignet is fine. He didn't ingest enough chocolate to cause serious damage, but for a little while, I believed that I had grievously harmed a creature that has done nothing but loved me since he saw me. I know though, that no lesson was learned. He would eat that bar of chocolate and ten more if he could. I have to protect him from himself. But he is a dog, he doesn't know any better.

Do we know any better? Or are we just as bad as my chocolate-loving dog? How much poison will we ingest before we finally put it down and walk away?

This summer in GIFs

Considering that it is now August, I thought that I could finally write a GIF post about this last summer, because it's been super-weird.

For those of you that didn't read my last GIF post and you don't know what a GIF is, it's like a tiny little video clip. I dunno. But they're awesome.

But as I was saying, this summer has been really strange. As some of you know though, I lost my job 3 days before Chavo and I were supposed to leave for Guatemala. And I was all



But then I did this






And a little bit of this












Chavo and I then left for Guatemala for almost 3 weeks.





Which was awesome, but when we came back, I was very

So I had to think about what I wanted to do for a job.

So instead of looking for a job, I started making stuff, so it was all very

 But then I was like,

\

 

I can make stuff AS A JOB!

 

 

So I started looking into it, and I totally can!
 





Stay tuned, guys! Because it's about to get really really real up in here. So, to all the followers of Ginger Spice and Everything Nice,

Thank you for the encouragement to go after such a crazy endeavor. Y'all are the best. Applause for everyone!

My Super-Awesome Craft Table (AKA- Worst DIY Tutorial Ever)

Last week, I mentioned that the Chavo was helping me to build a craft table right out of my imagination. Well, it is complete!!!

"But Ginger Spice, that is a framed chalkboard!" Oh, but it is not JUST a framed chalkboard. It is pure magic. A craft table that folds down, and looks like a beautiful picture when up? Genius, I know.

I wanted to share this magic with everyone, especially considering that Chavo and I could not find a tutorial on something like this. We found one, but it totally sucked. And I am not about to waste my life building a sucky craft table with directions that I don't understand, so we made our own directions. Like bosses. Here are all the magical instructions that you need to build a wicked sweet craft table like mine.

Step 1: get supplies.

Chavo and I planned for this to be a 2' by 2 1/2' table with about 4" depth for cabinet space, so we got all the junk for it. That junk being 2 pieces of wood that were 2 ft long, 2 that were 2 1/2 ft. We also went ahead and got the wood for the frame, which was just wood moulding and some rod- looking like things, in the same dimensions. We also got a 2 by 2 1/2 ft panel that was thick enough that it won't break if I put my sewing machine on it. Also got 6 Small hinges. Don't worry too much about measurements, because they will get all screwed up later and you'll just end up eyeballing it anyway.

Step 2: Make a wall box.

Get the whole family involved, if you have to. This is not the frame, this is the part that is mounted to the wall, which also serves as a little space to hide a bunch of crap. Whatever, just screw the pieces together. If you are like the Chavo and me, the wood we got was super-hard (hehehehe) and took forever to screw together.

Step 3: attach the panel to the wall box.

Find some sort of magic fairies that will help you line the panel just right so you can put the hinges on without it being all crooked. We used 3 hinges, just for good measure. Two would probably work fine, but we don't know what we're doing.

Step 4: Make the frame!

A problem that Chavo and I faced was that we couldn't find moulding that was sturdy enough to serve as table legs, so we went a different route: we cut a frame out if slightly smaller wood that was sturdy enough, attached the hinges to that, and then glued the pretty frame on with wood glue. 

Your craft table is now ready to be put up!

Step 5: Mount that mother to the wall!

This is by far the hardest part. I wish there was an easier way to do it, but I have yet to figure it out except to drill serious holes before screwing it into the wall, make sure you charged the heck out of your screwdriver, and try not to get into a fight with your husband. He will win this one, because he has the power tools.

Find some way to mount this thing to the wall. If it takes you less than 3 days, congratulations, you were faster than us!!

Ta-da! The table is done!

Now slap some paint on that bad boy!

I wanted to try an antique-ish look on the frame, as well as have a chalkboard. So I painted the frame and then used homemade chalkboard paint. 

Side note: homemade chalkboard paint is simply 1 tbsp of Nonsanded tile grout for every 4 oz. of acrylic paint. Color doesn't matter!! I got the Nonsanded grout at Home Depot. I went for a simple black chalkboard though, because I'm boring.

Now, all you need is a way to keep is closed when you're not using it! I went for a super easy eye and hook latch. You only need one. How do I know that? Because I broke the second one. Go me! 

And voila! Your table/picture is now complete! 

See you next Wednesday!!

An Exciting Change of Pace

I cannot believe I am even able to say this out loud, much less post it on my blog.

I opened my own business!

It's true! It's true. "Ginger Spice and Everything Nice" is no longer just a blog. It is an actual business. I am doing something that I truly love, making things with my bare hands. It also helps that I have the ability to watch TV while doing all of this. I am making handcrafted items, focusing mainly on jewelry and home décor. My current favorite is metalwork rings.

I have to say, that I could not have done this without the Chavo. Even as I type, he is outside, on our balcony, cutting a wooden frame for my craft table, with a handsaw. He has sat next to me, gone over every point, every doubt, every tear, and believed in me. He saw what it was like for me to be unhappy with my job, and he is now doing everything in his power to see that I am happy with my work and enjoying being at home. That also includes building me the most awesome craft table from my wildest imagination. He truly is my biggest cheerleader, my #1 fan, and my most loyal supporter.

He's also pretty sexy.

With that said, I would love for my first customers to be some of my Ginger Spice and Everything Nice Blog-Readers. I set up my Etsy store, but I got a little bogged down with all of that, so keep your eyes out for new things to crop up at my store. I will try to post my new things weekly. GSEN will also be going on the road for craft shows, so you may get an opportunity to buy my stuff in person! I'll also try to keep in touch with where Chavo and I will be for craft shows, so people can come out.

I am hoping that this is the sign that things are getting better. I love being home more. I love being with my dog and my husband, without worrying that neither knows me anymore. Maybe this is the start of something really good. We could really use a win right now. I know I could. It's looking mighty nice so far though.

See you next Wednesday!

Best of: Things Your Kid Says

While I was teaching last year, my students said a LOT of funny stuff, and I managed to get it all written down, hoping to write this post. So allow me to share with you. The Top 20 Things Your Kid Says.

20. "How many years has it been since the A-Bomb was dropped on Hiroshima?" Your Kid: 3958 years

 

19. Your Kid: Miss Garcia, do you know how to do this? Your Other Kid: Breaking news, dude, she's smarter than you!

 

18. Me: What can we be prepared to do if 9/11 were to reoccur? Your Kid: Invent holograms so the plane goes right through.

 

17. Me: Someone name another thing that was invented in the 1920's. Your Kid: Catapults!

 

16. "I think WWII is like a guy fight, and the Cold War is like a girl fight. Just two countries not talking to each other."

 

15. "Miss, is this how you spell 'wedgie'?"

 

14. "Ms. Garcia, how come smart people like you always use calculators to solve math problems?"

 

13. "Ms. Garcia, were you alive during the Civil War Reconstruction?"

 

12. "Is George W. Bush still alive?"

 

11. Who was the Great Compromiser? "Dr. Phil"

 

10. "Did your dad fight in the Civil War?"

 

9. "What was Henry Clay's nickname?" Your Kid: "Kunta Kente"

 

8. Your Kid: "Are you pregnant?" Me: "No." Your Kid: "Are you just fat?" Me: "Yes, I'm just fat.

 

7. "Ms. Garcia, will you help me get this pencil lead out of this bear's butt?"

 

6. Counselor: "What do you do when a stranger is at the door?" Your Kid: "Hit them with a bat!"

 

5.  "Mrs. Garcia, are you mad? I just saw your nose flare up."

 

4.   Do you always have to say "Mon" after you say "Jamaica"?

 

3. Somebody, quick! Tell me a noun! Your Kid: YOLO!

 

2.  What COUNTRY does spaghetti come from? Your Kid: KROGER!

 

1. Where was the Mayflower Compact signed? Your Kid: At the bottom.

 

 

----------

 

Well, there you have it. The top 20 funniest things my students said this year. I'm going to miss them, but I hope they give their 6th grade teacher as much entertainment as they gave me.

 

See you next Wednesday!

And we're back!

 After a turbulent airplane ride and being detained for two hours in Customs, I can finally say:

We're home!!!!!!

But most of you don't care about that, you just want to see pictures. Well, I'll give a little bit of insight into how this trip went.

We started out with our church on their short term mission trip, and honestly, I took ABSOLUTELY no pictures. For real. Chavo took them all, and he won't give me his memory card (ahemjerkcough). But then....

Chavo and I were set free, and this was the first place we went! (Not really, I just love showing people this picture.) A boob-squirting fountain, it doesn't get any better than this.

We saw dear friends.

 We saw beautiful, beautiful things.

We ate the most AMAZING PANCAKES OF MY LIFE! 

Yeah, really, that's a pancake. Chavo and I met an 82 year old woman who owned the hotel we stayed in with my parents. She was definitely, hands down, the most interesting person I've ever met. She is the only person with the recipe for these Hugonote pancakes, and I do believe that secret recipe will die along with her. Fluffiest, most delicous pancakes I've ever had.... What was I talking about?

Oh yeah, we saw some kind of fascinating, yet terrifying things too. We managed to go to San Juan on their Patron Saint Day, just in time for their procession. There was incense and fireworks everywhere!

Tell me that isn't freaky looking!

We saw a really pretty waterfall.

And we got a lot of rest and thinking done. It was a good trip. Chavo and I are thankful to be home though. We are thankful to have such a great home to come to. It makes this Independence Day so much sweeter. We are grateful to be in a place where we are not afraid to walk the sidewalks in the daytime or flush the toilet paper down the toilet. We have done a lot of thinking about going to Guatemala long term, and we still have not reached a conclusion that is confirmed by God. At this point, it looks a lot like we won't be going to Guatemala long-term, which makes me very sad.

That said, it doesn't mean that we won't be doing missions long-term, we just are not sure that Guatemala is where God wants us. I don't know. It seems like a lot of things that we wanted really are not going to go how we planned for.  But like it always goes, God doesn't care about our plans, but we know he has better ones. It's just kind of hard to look at now when all you see is that door that just got slammed in your face.

Anyways, it's getting a little unnecessarily depressing, so here's another boob-squirting fountain!

Happy Independence Day, everyone! Go flush some toilet paper and shoot some fireworks! Im'ma go get me a hot dog.

Vamos Guate!

Hello all my Wednesday friends. Chavo and I are still in Guatemala. I'm sitting here, jacking the wifi of this internet café, hoping my tablet doesnt die before I can post something.

Unfortunately, I am unable to post a real review of what is going on in our trip, as I am crunched for battery life and we do not have internet where we are staying. Fortunately Though, I have been able to handwrite a lot, so I'll have a lot to post when we return next Wednesday.

What I can say though is that Guatemala needs more prayers than ever. It seems as though while everything is the same as it was, nothing was maintained. The adoption situation is not making progress, and a dangerous politician is gaining in popularity. However, Chavo and I got to spend time in a wonderful ministry with an incredible family, and I look forward to being able to  type that out for all of you.

Until then, keep us and Guatemala in your thoughts and prayers.

See you next Wednesday!

The First Year of Marriage and what you weren't told.

On this day, 3 years ago, the Chavo asked me to be his girlfriend. Now, we are 3 days past our 1- year wedding anniversary. Reaching our 1-year feels a lot like graduating for Chavo and me. We high-fived, we raised our glasses, and we thanked God for all the people that helped us get to this point.

I'm no expert on marriage, but I know something: no one told me what the first year of marriage would be like. No one told me what to do or not to do. The only thing anyone ever told me about that first year is that we would be having tons of sex. Yeah, I said sex. Sue me.

But newsflash: sex is not all you have to deal with in your first year.





I used to watch weddings with tears of joy. Now, I watch them through the cracks of my fingers, nearly screaming "Don't go into the basement! The psycho axe murderer is in there!" But don't get me wrong, a lot of my friends are getting married this summer, and I'm happy for them. I'm not arguing against getting married. On the contrary, I'm fighting for it. Too many people have divorced because no one told them what the first year would be like. People say "The first year is the hardest," but they never say why. Then when you struggle, they're the first ones to say "Well, did you think it was going to be eeeeeeeasy?" The last person that told me that almost got to press charges on me for assaulting them with a box of dishwashing detergent.

However, coming out of this, I'm going to give you a little insight into your first year, and hopefully some ways to help.

What they don't tell you:
- You have to compromise about 20 times more than you were already planning to- About a month after getting married, I started asking Chavo questions about things he preferred or didn't prefer and seeing if I could guess what his preferences were. I guessed correctly almost every time because he prefers exactly the opposite of me.

Chavo takes naps, I drink coffee. Chavo likes going to the gym, I like being outside for exercise. When Chavo drives on long trips, he likes to stop to stretch his legs every hour or so; when I drive, I will nearly pee myself before I stop at a gas station.

One Saturday, Chavo decided that he was tired of going out to the same places. He also had never had Thai food before, so he decided that he wanted to eat at a Thai restaurant for dinner. I had just gotten over the stomach virus and was simply thankful for keeping food INSIDE my body, so I was not up for trying new food, but I did want to go somewhere different, so I suggested a compromise of going to a restaurant we had never been to, but had that type of food before. (Holy run-on sentence, Batman!) This was the response I got.

"We have been compromising all week, I just want to do what I want. It's Saturday, I'm tired of compromising!"
"So you don't have to compromise on Saturdays?"
"No! I should get to do what I want on a Saturday."
"Even if you're dragging me along and I don't want to go?"
"Yeah!"

At that point, I started laughing. It was probably one of the dumbest fights we've ever had. We can laugh about it now, knowing that it was a ridiculous argument, but the fact of the matter was that we were both tired of changing and compromising as much as we were. And for the record, we ate sandwiches that night and didn't talk to each other until the next morning.

- You're going to have to decide who you want to me mad at you.  For someone that never wants people to me mad at her, this was a hard pill to swallow. See, there's this thing called "boundaries" that people don't seem to know about. People will ask you for the most personal, intimate information about your marriage, your sex life, and your family, and it's really none of their flipping business.

Especially sex. For real. People ask the most personal questions, really feeling entitled to an answer. Things like "So, what did you learn about your spouse that you didn't expect in the bedroom?" is the most bonkers question to ask a newlywed. And trust me, if they're dumb enough to ask this question, they are dumb enough to get mad at you when you don't answer it.

As a pretty open and honest girl, it's really hard to put a lock on certain topics. But I had to. I had to learn that some information is none of anyone's business. Even if it's my best friend who would never tell a soul. Some information is only (not best, only) kept between the two of you and a counselor, if you choose to see one. Even my blog is approved by Chavo if I talk about him.

Don't be afraid to hurt feelings of people that ask you these questions. You don't always have to be a butthole, but not telling them what they want to know WILL hurt their feelings. So freaking what? Learn to say, "That's on a need-to-know basis." Someone is going to be mad at you- either the one asking you for information or your spouse. It's up to you to decide which one is more important.

- You will see the ugliest side of yourself very, very fast.  Back in like, month 6, Chavo and I got into a huge fight right before church. To be honest, I don't even remember what we were fighting about. But see, when I fight, I don't run away, I run into it. Chavo tries to walk away, but I won't have it.

So I'm getting dressed for church, following Chavo so he can't escape from me, and so he starts straight-up ignoring me. I got his attention in the only way I could think of.

I started screaming the meanest and ugliest words I could think of. When that didn't work, I threw a stiletto heel. Not at him, but at the door next to me. And it stuck.

When I saw the hole in the door (which looks strikingly like a bullet hole), I absolutely lost it. We both did. Except this time we were both in agreement: I am absolutely bat-crap crazy. Chavo left the apartment and didn't come back until about 7 that evening, and I spent the remainder of the day hating myself. Thank the Lord that we can laugh about the shoe-throwing incident now, but I learned a very important lesson.

The thing is: when you get married, you and your spouse become mirrors for each other. And it's not always in that sexy Justin Timberlike way. You can't hide anything anymore. I could hide my shoe-throwing guanopsychosis because no one had to see it. It's hard to hide who you are when you live and share a bed with someone. It's even harder to hide when you really need help.

I wish I could tell you that there was a way to avoid all of this, but the only way you can avoid this is to not get married. You WILL have to put up with this at some point, but there are ways to help yourself deal with it.

Get thyself to counseling!- Even if your issues are minor, even if you think you can't afford it, it is an incredible help. There are plenty of churches out there with counseling centers, or schools with students who need the internship hours. And for those couples who think they're exempt from this because they had premarital counseling, so did Chavo and I.

Counseling does not mean that you are on the brink of divorce, or that you hate each other. Chavo and I consider our counselor to be an invaluable asset to our marriage.

*gasp* Yep, we have a counselor. And he is helping us establish healthy patterns in our marriage for years to come. I highly suggest getting a counselor to anyone this early. You would rather establish these patterns NOW then have to go back and fix them later.

Find a group of newlyweds- For Chavo and I, this was our newlywed Sunday School class. We tend to speak in hypothetical situations, involving neighbors and friends (see, my neighbor and her husband fight over who has to do dishes), but I like to go in there and mix it up. They know about me throwing the shoe. Not my friend, or my neighbor, me. It also helped them to see that Chavo and I still love each other and are still together, even if we are just as broken as the rest of them.

There will be people in a group like this that pretend that everything is rainbows and sunshine. Be there for these people. They need the most help. People who are led to believe that struggles lead to divorce are the first ones to divorce at the first sight of them. Struggles are more than common, they're a fact of life.

Learn to communicate- Notice I didn't say "learn how to talk". Sometimes, talking is where the problem is. Not all communication is talking, it's actions. Learn what your actions are saying. If you are saying "I am making you a priority" to make your spouse feel better, but your actions say differently, what is your spouse supposed to think?

This tip does not require a lot of explaining. It's pretty self-explanatory.


Anyway, I'm glad that we have this year behind us, and we are praying for all of our friends who just got married or who are getting married soon. I hope some of what I've said here prepares you a little more for the road ahead.

See you next Wednesday, where I will talk a lot about Guatemala. We've been here for 4 days so far, so I'm excited about what I have to share for next week!

I lost my job.

Yep. And I didn't quit. I, for real, lost my job.

It's true, and it's a long story. I'm not going to promise to elaborate on it. When the shock wears off, I'll try to write it all out. Maybe it will be a good pastime for the airplane ride tomorrow (holy crap, I'm leaving the country tomorrow!).

But I'm ok. After everything that they have put me through this year, I'm glad that I don't have to go back. I'm glad that there are certain people I will never see again.

Chavo and I decided that this is also a good time for me to focus on a job that I want. It's hard though. I thought teaching was what I wanted. I worked my butt off to get that job, but now I know that it was wrong. What I got wasn't what I wanted.

I really am ok, though. Just confused.

Holy crap, I wrote a guest post!

Hey everyone, last week Bekka from One Righteous Babe came and taught us about how God doesn't care about suck ups. Well, today, I wrote a guest post for her! Holy canoli! Writing a guest post is hard, because these aren't just my readers, they're a whole new audience. What if they don't like me? What if they think I'm dumb?

But I think you'll like what I have to post there. It will at least make you think, which is really what I want. You can find it riiiiiiiiiight here!


Please go look at it. And better yet, subscribe to her. Bekka is some truth-telling hilarity all on her own. She definitely doesn't disappoint and is always a day-maker whenever she posts. She is the first blogger I've ever met personally, and we are definitely BBFF's, Best Blogging Friends Forever. Whoo! Bekka is definitely my best blogging friend, I love what she has to say and I'm just tickled pink that I got to post for One Righteous Babe.

Check it out, and let me know if it sucks. Or don't... Because I may cry.

Then go read all of her other stuff, and make comments on her stuff. Bloggers love comments, they're like surprises in cereal boxes, except the prize is a BMW and sometimes the cereal box is for Prune Bran O's.

You get it right?

P.S. Chavo and I are leaving for Guatemala on Saturday, and a lot has been going on. A lot of good, but also a lot of scary. I would appreciate your prayers, and I promise to elaborate after this week.

It's a sad day in the Ginger Spice household

We knew that our time together would be short, but we had no idea how short.

 

It's been over a year, but it is time for us to say goodbye.

 

My favorite sandals. You brought me through engagement and my first year of marriage, but alas, it is time for us to part ways. You were the most loyal sandals I have ever owned.

 

These new sandals will never truly replace you, but will serve as a reminder of what it means to be a great sandal. They will have some big shoes to fill..... Wait...

 

 

Goodbye, favorite sandals. May you decorate the feet of angels in heaven.

 

 

I may need to visit a doctor. I'm pretty sure this isn't normal.

 

Guest Blogger: One Righteous Babe

Greetings, everyone. Since yesterday was my last day of teaching classes, today is chock-full of meetings and getting crap out of my classroom, while simultaneously freaking out and getting ready to leave for Guatemala on Saturday for 2 1/2 weeks! So to keep everyone entertained, I have lined up one heck of a guest-blogger. I'll be back next Wednesday, June 12, as planned.

I asked One Righteous Babe if she would be interested in writing a guest post, and she definitely doesn't disappoint. Bekka and I got acquainted after I caught a link to her blog and got to following her on twitter. You can read about the first time she and I got to meet in real life here. She is a wicked-awesome blogger and I thoroughly enjoy reading her stuff. She's got a lot of good stuff to say.

Anyhow, here's One Righteous Babe.

God isn't looking for suck-ups.

When I was a little girl, I tried everything in the world to get my Daddy's attention. I analyzed the man. 

 

(My "over analyzation" of things started at a young age. And yes I know that's not a word because I googled checked it. Learn something new everyday. )

 

I wanted my dad to like me. Respect me. Think I had great ideas. So, I found out everything he liked and remembered it.

Dad's favorite color was blue? I changed my favorite from pink to blue. Dad was a carpenter? I loved to work with wood too. I would sit for hours next to him in his shop and play in the sawdust or hammer nails into a throw away piece of 2x4. At the young age of 6 I learned the difference of a phillips head screw driver and a flat had. I knew the different size of bits. I knew in what drawer of what tool box his favorite hammer with the blue handle was in, and his favorite tape measure.

 

 I had too. I wanted my dad to think I was the best kid ever. The best he'd ever had. I tried really really hard. 

 

But it was never good enough.

Got the right drill bit? I wasn't fast enough in bringing it to him. Got a 95% on my math test? (My dad's favorite subject I might add) It wasn't 100%. 

 

"But Dad!" I would whine, "it's still an A!"  "Yes," he would tell me. "But it's not the right kind of A. You don't apply yourself Bek."

 

I hated to hunt, but would often go hunting just to be with my dad. And me and sitting still? That doesn't work for me.  Neither does camo. Bleh.

I wasn't good at basketball but dammit I sure did try to be because my dad was excellent at it. When I got old enough to cook, I would try to cook my dad's favorite meal. That didn't work out either though. There was always something wrong with it. Tomatoes weren't in season, or I didn't make gravy for the rice or make biscuits or WHATEVER. There was just always something wrong.

 

Then finally finally FINALLY I found the one thing that I thought could get my to participate in my life.  

 

Shotgun. 

 

I learned how to shoot and I learned how to shoot good. 

 

I became the best teenaged girl shotgun shooter for the state of Mississippi for 1 year in the 4-H.

 

 I was fantastic. 

 

Yet, the first time I qualified for State shoot offs was horrible. My trigger finger had started to blister and bleed because the trigger weight on my 12 gauge was very heavy. I flubbed up big time. But hey, I thought. I was the only girl that made it to State in the Shotgun division.  

My dad cussed me out all the way home. That was the first night I ever contemplated suicide. From then on instead of participating in my life, my dad had to be banned from ever coming to watch me. 

I was never never never NEVER good enough for my father. 

So with all that in mind... You can see how I may not have the best relationship with my heavenly father. 

When I was very young, I read that God loved Solomon. God was pleased with him because out of everything in the world that Solomon could have asked God for he asked Him for wisdom.  I thought to myself, "I want God to love me and be pleased with me. I'll ask for wisdom too even though I really really really want a new bike." I prayed for wisdom for years after that day. 

When I was a little older (not too long ago actually) I read that Abraham was God's friend. That's a big deal. I wanted to be God's friend like Abraham was. Abraham listened to God and did what God told him to do. I decided that I would do that too.

All of my life I was never good enough for my father. All of my life I heard and read, and thought that I was not good enough for God. It took me years to separate the fact that God is not my Dad. 

 

Ok well, He is but He isn't.

I thought I had to suck up to God because I sucked up to my dad my whole life. 

 

I don't have to analyze God to figure out how to make Him like me. He already does. I don't have to do anything. I tried everything in the world I could think of to make sure that God loved me without understanding the fact that He already did.  I JUST learned this. I can let it all hang out with God. I don't have to brush my hair and teeth before I pray. I don't have to pray what I think God might like to hear. 

 

(It's not like He doesn't already know what's going on in there anyways.)

 

You can be yourself with God. I've heard that all my life. I thought "Yeah right, He just says that up front, but when He gets home and sits down on His throne He tells all the angels around him about how much of a disappointment I am to Him."

 

I couldn't have been more wrong. You can be yourself with God. It's ok. He doesn't want you to match your favorite color to his. Hell, He made them.  He's not looking for a suck up. 

 

He's just looking for you.

Depression

So, um, this is gonna be kind of a tough blog to write because I'm so used to being "Ginger Spice and Everything Nice." And here, for a really long time, it felt like "Ginger Spice and Everything Sucks." But I am about to make a lot of you really uncomfortable because I'm going to talk about something a lot of people pretend doesn't exist. And most people hide from it. Depression.



I don't mean depression in the sense of being sad or feeling like things just aren't going right. I'm talking about bone-crushing, heart-breaking, trying-to-find-the-right-words-to-say-to-your-mom-so-she-doesn't-call-the-police-to-do-a-welfare-check kind of depression.

Toward the beginning of the summer, after Chavo and I got married, things were really good. They were great. But after about a month, I was beginning to feel like I had joined the Witness Protection Program. I had a new state, a new name, a new life, a new apartment, new everything. Everything was different. My friends were different. My church was different. Everything was just... different. And I was beginning to feel like nothing I had ever done (before I got married) mattered.

Nothing mattered. It didn't matter anymore because it was gone. In my mind, it hadn't led me to anything. And that was how I generally felt, that the 21 years previously had meant nothing. And so, I started to feel depressed, I started losing interest in what I previously liked. I wanted to be a teacher so bad, and I didn't have a teaching job. I wanted to be married, and here I was, married, and I didn't know what to do.

I tried making friends. I made a couple of friends, but everyone was always so busy that I never really had time to "hang out". So that was hard for me because I'm an extrovert, I get my energy from being around other people.  You know, Chavo was working all the time, since I was bringing in no income. I was going on interviews and interviews with people who didn't like me from the second that I walked in the door, and I had no idea why. I started to get very confused about why I was even there.

So I got involved in church, in the orchestra and the children's ministry. Chavo was in the orchestra and I had always been involved in a church orchestra since I was 15. It was one of the only consistencies I had between my old life and my new one. But I was feeling torn, in a way, I wanted to be in the children's ministry. But because I felt obligated to be in the orchestra because Chavo was there and I had always been in an orchestra. I also had a run-in with someone in the music ministry, who hated the very ground I walked on.

I had never really been around that before. I had never been exposed to someone who hated me just because I sat in the chair next to them. That had never been a part of my life before. I struggled with that, the bullying she did towards me, and everyone continuing to say that I needed to stand up to her, that she had run off countless people before me. It was a big burden to take on. Every time I left orchestra rehearsal, I felt like I was in hell.

Then I got a job, and I really felt like everything was going to be ok. We had a way to pay the rent, I had a job! And then, that was not what I expected it to be either. So all of a sudden, I'm in a situation where I go to work to get dumped on, and then I go to church and get dumped on. It didn't make any sense! Why would I be led in this direction of total failure and I felt like I didn't want to be anywhere anymore. I would say that was the point where I didn't want to kill myself, I just didn't want to be around anymore.

After that, I went back to my hometown to my doctor and got on some antidepressants and started seeing a counselor. It helped. I start feeling less "I don't want to be anymore" and more "I just don't want to be me anymore, I just want to be somebody else." It wasn't really until recently that I got out of that. Now, I sometimes want to be myself, sometimes I want to be somebody else. And I'm trying to get back into things that I enjoy, which is part of the reason why I'm here. I really enjoy blogging. It's what I like to do. It's a substitute for conversation for me.

I guess I just want to say that I know that there are people out there who have felt like I did, or feel like it now. I just want them to know that I understand. I understand what it feels like to really watch what you say in front of your spouse or your parents or friends so you don't scare them. I know that sometimes people do want to hurt themselves, and sometimes they don't. Sometimes they want everything to just stop. Sometimes you just want the world to stop spinning for just a little while, or even longer. I'm not saying it's ok. I'm not going to pat you on the back going "There there, you're ok." I'm here to say that while it may not be ok now, it WILL be. I'm sorry that you had to go through this, that anyone has to, because it sucks and it doesn't make sense. I love all of you. Please talk to someone though. It helps. I know that getting on antidepressants and talking to my counselor helped me. It didn't change the situation, but it helped me to deal with it. I stopped wanting the world to stop spinning, it makes me feel like it's going to change. The situation may get better or worse, but it's not going to be the same for much longer.

So anyway, I don't even know why I'm saying this. Maybe it's because for the last year, I feel like I wasn't able to talk about this to someone that didn't charge by the hour. Because people are afraid of this, they're afraid of depression. They're afraid that you're going to try to hurt yourself or someone else, so they run away. But it sucks not having anyone to talk to.

I love all of you. Thank you for being a part of what I enjoy doing. Coming back to this blog has made me feel better already about where I am in life. And no matter what, this first year of changes is almost over, and the next year is coming. And it will be different, maybe better, maybe worse, but definitely different.

See you next Wednesday.

The last 11 months in GIFS

So, since I've been out since July, I thought I'd give you a little catching up as to what has been going on. But I feel like rewarding some of the people that have stuck with it. Therefore, in order to save you from the massive wall of text that is "the last 11 months" , and since a picture is worth a thousand words, so a GIF should be worth a zillion, here is the last 11 months in GIFs.

Chavo and I got married and moved to our apartment in Fort Worth without killing each other, so at first we were like:


And he was working outside at the auto shop at the Seminary in the Texas summer, so he was always all



And I wanted to be a teacher, but I didn't have a job yet. So anytime someone mentioned me getting a job, I was always like:



And I went to millions and millions of job interviews, and by the end of it I was all:



But then, Ta-Da! I got a job as a teacher in Dallas! And I was all:



But teaching is really hard, so some days, I'm all




But most days, I'm really:



And I REALLY REALLY wanted to blog, but like was all:



Because me and life were like



Then, we moved to Arlington! So things got better:



And then standardized testing came around, and I was all:



And Chavo was like:



Because everyone at my job was like:



And



So I was always very



And
 

But school is going to be over in three weeks, so Chavo and I are both like:




Because we're going back to Guatemala soon for about 2 1/2 weeks, and we're so excited about it, we're as happy as this:



Anyways, blog, it's been a crazy 11 months, and I hope this about covers it. Because I am



Going to go take a nap now. See you next Wednesday!