A Christmas Eve Story

Christmas morning used to be my favorite. Everything leading up to it was training for the big day. I could barely fall asleep at night due to the reindeer hooves on the roof (Bob feet in the attic) and I would wake up my sisters as early as I was allowed in the morning. We would wait upstairs or on the stairs while Mom and Bob made coffee. When we got the word, we would scramble down the stairs and one of us would play "elf" by passing out rounds of presents, one per person per round. Presents are always opened youngest to oldest.

Well as it appears, I'm getting older. In the past seven or eight years things have changed and today I made the final decision that Christmas Eve has now surpassed Christmas morning.

In general, we have the same routine.

The night of the 23rd we roll the dough for sticky buns. At about 9 am we start delivering the wonderful breakfast platters to about 10 to 12 close family friends. Some people have been getting them since we moved to Alpharetta in 1995, but my family has been doing this for years before that.

In the afternoon we go to church. We sing the same songs, listen to the same soloist, and delight in the same candlelight singing of Silent Night.

After church we head to the Carters, possibly our closest family friends, house. There between four and eight families meet every year to catch up and enjoy each others company. Bunny Boy (A Christmas Story) is always running it's 24 hour marathon which is required to be on in the background.

It's not so much what has changed in the past few years, it's how I look at things.

First and foremost, I like my sleep. So waking up in the wee hours of the morning is no longer an option. I also know what most of my gifts are, and while that means they're things I really want/need, the element of surprise is...not so much.

This morning, while delivering sticky buns, I got to talk to some great people. The Lochers, whom I don't see very often, got to meet Grady and we visited for a long time. I also went to drop some off at Haley Nelson's house, which somehow I didn't leave for over an hour and a half. This morning's fellowship was the first thing that reminded me how much I love Christmas Eve.

Tonight at the Carters was happy hour. We went our separate ways for dinner but happy hour was together.

And it's safe to say it was a success.

It was hard to determine what was my favorite part but I've mapped out some of the best:

- Bob brought a mini keg.

- Miss James (Grandma) was drinking wine, much to the dismay of her daughter. And girlfrand DRANK that wine.

- The two 20-year-olds drank beer in front of their parents- Kevin to looks of apathy from the parents, Ben nervously darting his eyes towards his mother, waiting for a lecture or ID check.

- Kevin taught Miss James how to "pound it," complete with explosion.

- Aunt Nancy entered the room announcing, "HO HO HO...the hoe is HERE!!!" After reintroducing herself to Kevin she realized he's the same boy she's seen for at least 10 years of Christmas Eve's and decided he'd grown up well. She then made a motion to take him into the other room with her.

I mean honestly...I can't pick just ONE favorite.

All that being said, it's wonderful that I get to spend the holidays with such wonderful people. I would take a Christmas Eve over a Christmas morning any day.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Grady's Lady

I am home. Articles turned in, scantrons filled out, done with fall semester. Done done done.

I came home yesterday to meet the male boxer my parents rescued. After seeing a picture of him I thought he was adorable and wonderful and that we'd be life long friends. I suggested that we name him Grady after the UGA journalism school. And we did.

I annoyed the heck out of my manfriend, saying at least 40 times, "I get to meet Grady soon!" I liked him already.

So you can imagine my excitement when I got home yesterday and got to see him in person for the first time. After saying hi to him, I sat on the floor to pet our other dog, Sugar.

As I was sitting and petting, my new friend Grady decided we should take things to the next level. He promptly climbed onto my shoulders and began expressing his masculinity towards my back. In a moment of realization, I made a strange "Wahhhhhhh!??!?!" noise and crawled around until I could escape from his grasp and stand up.

I looked around, begging the invisible crowd for some pity.

Once I regained some dignity, I unloaded the car, got some water, and sat down on the couch. Grady climbed up on the couch next to me and, remembering how Bob said Grady was a lap dog, I welcomed him.

POOR DECISION, CINDY.

Once again, I fell victim to our unneutered stray. I caught on to what was happening a little quicker this time and I pushed him off the couch and scrambled away until I could stand up and look back in disbelief.

Luckily, Grady's losing his manhood tomorrow morning at nine. Hopefully we can be friends after that, but first impressions can be hard to forget.

See you later

This morning one of my best friends and my roommate of the past 2.5 years graduated and moved out. Her room is empty and white and depressing. So instead of sulking I'm going to remember the good times. And what better way to do that than to look through all my pictures and post a ton of them?

So, Ann-Katherine Hailey, here's to one trip to Memphis:




One cup and string phone:



One emotional fish funeral:



Two years of Spike for Life:




Two Daddy-Daughter days with Bob:




Two spring breaks:





Three formals:





Three dance marathons:




Four bid days:





Four falls of gamedays:






Five boxes of hair dye:



Seven birthdays:






Tons of socials:







And possibly even more date nights:








And so, in a moment of sappiness, here is my favorite friendship quote ever, courtesy of Winnie the Pooh:

"If ever there is a tomorrow when we're not together, there is something you must always remember: you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart... I'll always be with you.”

Hopefully the end of college won't be the end of our wonderful times together. Miss you already.

Published again!

Woohoo!

My big final article from my internship in internal communications at Emory Healthcare has finally gone up on the website! I wrote a number of articles during my internship (summer 09) but this was an article where I wrote, interviewed and photographed the story.

Check it out here!

Hunters and gatherers

As much as I would love to spend all night posting about the wonders of the Austin/Athow family Thanksgiving, I have a rough week of school work ahead of me and the creative juices are temporarily stalled. Instead, though, I can give you a short anecdote about last weekend.

Darling boyfriend decided to take me on a date to Outback Steakhouse because he had a gift card. Unfortunately, we've never gone to the Outback by his house in Atlanta so we had to Google it. Once we found the closest location we plugged it in the GPS and were on our way.

At about Lenox mall we got kind of lost so we just parked and decided to walk. Seeing how there are a bunch of office buildings on the side where the GPS was leading us, we figured Outback was in between them or on the bottom level.

So we set out on foot.

We walked about six buildings to the right, decided the numbers were going the wrong way, and doubled back.

Then we saw a parking sign for the number we were looking for. Which led us to a parking garage. Which we walked through for a few minutes before we realized we were nowhere close to an Outback.

Finally we found the right street number, but the doors were locked to get into the building. The security guard looked alarmed and a few employees leaving the building looked at us quizzically.

Employee: Can I help you?
Jason: Yea, we're looking for Outback.
Employee: Outback what?
Jason: Outback Steakhouse. There's supposed to be one at this address.
Employee: Oh. Well this is Outback... corporate.
**pause**
Me: Some date.

After some "Awwww"s from the employees I explained that it wasn't anywhere close to our first date and I was joking.

And then we walked back to the car, looked up the next closest Outback, and eventually enjoyed a nice meal. Only after working for it though.

Baby steps...

I was just sent this link and I'm in awe.

If you don't have time to read it all, here's the jist:

A teacher in Howell, Michigan asked a student to remove a confederate flag belt buckle and later asked two students to leave the classroom after a heated discussion about gay rights. This video of a 14-year-old student standing up for that teacher has gone viral. I am AMAZED at his confidence and tact.

Walk the walk

Thursday I went to the gym, but there was a volleyball game which means you have to pay to park, and my health is not worth $5 so I came home. Since I was all ready to break a sweat, I thought doing YouTube workout videos would be a good alternative.

I only did 20 minutes of legs, butt and abs, but I had trouble walking for the next two days. Which was a problem. Because Saturday morning, while at the mountains with my whole family, we went on a six mile walk. First half is up a mountain to a tower and the second half is back down.

I repeat, first half is UP.



As if my butt wasn't sore enough, I am once again immobilized.

My hopeful boyfriend says it's just growing pains.

Keyed

Today I worked out. After watching the last half an hour of Gilmore Girls on the elliptical I decided to visit my recent friend, the Stairmaster.

As I was climbing onto the machine, I put my towel and iPod into the little cup, and then grabbed my key. As I was going to put it in the cup, it slipped out of my hand, tumbling in slow motion onto the stair below me and then bouncing into the gap between the fake stairs and the side panel.

I stared into the gap for a second and lifted my head to meet the eye of the girl on the elliptical next to me who was now giving me a look that clearly said she was glad she wasn't me.

I stepped down and did an awkward side-squat to see if the key had dropped onto the ground but if it had I wouldn't be blogging about it.

I probably would have walked away, ignoring the predicament, if my wallet, phone and keys weren't in the locker that could only be opened by that key.

So I did the walk of shame to the front desk and, head hanging, told the guy what I had done.

He asked which of the two Stairmasters I was on and I said, "The one no one's on." At which point he nodded and then said, "The one that girl is about to get on?!" And I said yes.

With that, he sprinted across the gym and yelled, "DON'T GET ON THERE!" to the now terrified, probably freshman girl. I hung my head again and did a speed walk back to the Stairmaster, pretending Super Gym Guy hadn't made a scene.

After I explained where the key was, the dude had to go get a screwdriver and told me to make sure no one else tried to get on. So I stood behind the Master and pretended like I was stretching until he got back.

With half the gym watching and me still stretching, pretending I had nothing to do with it, he dissembled the left side of the machine until I could reach in and grab my little key.

I am well stretched and borderline mortified.

Life's a Beach

Saturday, October 30, 2010 marked my first ever Georgia/Florida game as a student of the University of Georgia.

And it was epic.

Thursday at noon we packed up the car and headed out to St. Simons. Apparently the UGA fans stay in St. Simons because real fans of Georgia stay in Georgia, not Florida, so we didn't stay in Jacksonville.

Friday is beach day. Everyone packs up coolers and dresses up (since the game is always on Halloween weekend) and heads out to the affectionately nicknamed Frat Beach. Five of my friends and I went as Carebears. I was the pink one with the rainbow stomach. I hate pink. But my roommates said I should be the rainbow because I love the gays. They're smart.



Naturally we dressed up in t-shirts and shorts. Other people took advantage of the well known mean girls rule: "Halloween is the one night a year when girls can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it."

Which is fine. For some people. Nottttt so much for other people.



There should be an application process for people that want to bare that much skin. Complete with an interview.



Once we got to the actual game, we had the most annoying fans behind us that I am ashamed to say were UGA alum. I got spit on, spilled on, yelled at, and called a few choice words. Then I had coke spilled in my seat and was told that I shouldn't be sitting (during time outs) anyway, I should be standing and cheering for the Dawgs.

I was suddenly very angry with whoever wrote the chant, "Ain't nothin finer in the land than a drunk, obnoxious Georgia fan."

They were wrong. Sober, calm, yet excited and enthusiastic fans are probably better.



We lost the game, but it was the most exciting game I've ever been in the stands for, and my cake of a weekend already had plenty of icing so I wasn't too upset.

PLUS, I got to come back to the number one party school and, more importantly, one of the top college towns in the nation.

I count this weekend as a win.

Madder than a wet baby

Every commercial break during the reunion show of Teen Mom, I was reminded by the ever-so-wise Dr. Drew that teenage pregnancy is 100% preventable.

While I was in Cambodia I wrote my final article on family size and birth control. I learned that they get shots, take the pill, or use a patch.

In my roommates Sexual Development class this week they had a lecture from the health center lady that passed out condoms and reminded them to "Wrap Your HalloWeiner" this month.

This weekend, however, I discovered the greatest birth control of all time.

My cousin, her husband, and her three children came to visit my parents this weekend and I drove home to see them.

I've never been a huge fan of kids, but I always thought that I could handle them.

Now, as a preface, let me state that as far as kids go, these ones are amazing. Betsy and Jay were made to be parents and if it were up to me they would have seven more kids. The kids are polite and well mannered and not the annoying, bratty kids I dread having one day.

When Betsy and Jay went to an engagement party, however, it was up to me and my parents to bathe and put to bed the three kids. My mom and dad got the the 4 and 2 year old boys, and I was assigned to the almost year-old girl. How hard could it be?

So far she had been incredibly happy and easy to handle, minus her obsession with climbing the stairs. I was about to encounter how incredibly ignorant I am when it comes to understanding children.

First I realized that in order to put her in the bath I would have to take off her onesie...and her diaper. Please just be pee, please just be pee, I prayed. And alas, I had found favor with the Lord.

The water was just warm enough, but definitely not hot. If I were a baby, I would want this water. This baby, however, had a different idea.

As soon as I lowered the kid into the four inches of water, her mouth gaped open and the screaming began. Assuming I must have misjudged the water, I picked her out of the water. But now she was all wet. My immediate reaction to pull her towards me and "shhhhh" her and rock her were thwarted by the fact that she was dripping. So instead I held her over the bath tub, my arms completely outstretched, as I watched her scream and cry and snot, a look of sheer terror on my face.

There was a moment there when I sent her the mental message, which I'm positive she picked up on before me, that I had no idea what in the heck I was doing.

I tried to replace her in the water once, then twice. And then I gave up. Luckily Betsy wasn't the only experienced mom around, so I brought the baby into my parents bathroom where the boys were playing in the tub. I handed over Crying Child to Mother and she calmly took her from me, sat her in the water, washed her with a washcloth for about 20 seconds, and handed her back to me. I was prepared, holding my stance behind my mom, towel draped over my arms, ready to catch the kid.

Now, had I known that you were allowed to bathe the kid while she was screaming bloody murder, I probably could have handled it. Probably. Ok, maybe.

Next, I had to put a diaper back on her. WHY DO THEY MAKE THOSE THINGS SO COMPLICATED?! The back looks exactly like the front. My mom had withheld the information that there are little tabby things on the back that wrap around to the front. Probably could have figured that out too. Ok, ok. Maybe.

After bath time was milk time. Naturally the kid didn't want to drink her milk. But she did calm down, and I sat with her for almost an hour watching the UGA game. We chilled out, relaxed a bit, maybe dozed off.

Point being: If my kid doesn't pee, poop, snot, cry, whine, or move, I can handle it. But until they make kids like that, I would like to give a big shout out to my cousin for reminding me how young and naive I am, and how I should probably stay away from children for a good five to ten to fifteen years.

Profile Article for Class

Bob so kindly pointed out that I have only blogged once this month and considering I have to write for class, which is what's keeping me so busy, I can just copy and paste that onto here. I wrote this article about a friend of mine I met in my LGBT Spirituality class last semester. She's super intriguing and inspiring. This will have you occupied for a while.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meagan Buford had her voice taken away, so now she is giving a voice to the deaf. As a senior in high school, the now 22-year-old began dating a female member of her rugby team. As the news of her new relationship spread, she was not only rejected by her family but shunned by her church. Today her experience propels her to help others who feel lonely or rejected.

From seventh grade to graduation, Buford was at church every Sunday and Wednesday, attending every youth retreat and ski trip. “It was either Jesus or sports,” she said. Buford also mentored younger girls. The girls would ask if they could sit and talk with her and the answer was always, “Yes.” Buford heard stories from girls who cut themselves and had been sexually abused, stories the girls’ parents knew nothing about. These parents, however, were some of the first to cast stones at Buford when she came out of the closet.

“They said I couldn’t mentor their kids because I’m gay,” she said. Three of her leaders from YoungLife, a Christian organization, told her they thought it was wrong that she was gay, and she was stripped of her leadership position at her church. “I still had an understanding of who I was and what I believed,” she said.

High school friend Carly Wright, 22, said she wasn’t too surprised when she found out about Meagan’s girlfriend. “I always had a suspicion,” she said. Though few and far between, Buford was lucky to have friends like Wright to accept her. “I believe in equal rights,” Wright said. “Love knows no gender in my opinion.”

In high school, Buford wanted to enter a profession where she could help people; she wanted to do physical therapy or Christian counseling, and even drew up blue prints for a shelter for homeless teens. “I’m just somebody who loves people and loves to make people feel wanted,” she said.

Wright says people are the most important thing in Buford’s life. “Meagan is definitely a people person,” Wright said. “She is very caring and loving to those she is close to and those in her community.”

Buford’s girlfriend, Lindsey Neely, 22, recalls a time when she was preparing to read at a poetry slam in Milledgeville, Ga. but Meagan wouldn’t be able to make it due to a test the next morning. “In order to still make it that night, Meagan took the test early and surprised me by showing up at my apartment about an hour before the slam,” Neely said. “She is always doing things like that; surprising me with flowers or just being there for me when I need her.”

After she came out, however, not everyone wanted her help. The parents of girls she mentored were forward about not wanting Buford around their children anymore, and her family looked at her in a whole new light. “It’s like wearing a scarlet letter,” she said, strategically placing her fingers on her forehead. “A big ole’ G.” But this wasn’t the first encounter Buford had with loneliness.

As a child, Buford’s military family moved from state to state. In her second grade year, the family moved to Marysville, Wash., just north of Seattle. She would have been put into the accelerated program at her new school but there was no such thing. Instead, they put the lower level third graders with the upper level second graders.

Buford, who thought she was very cool for a second grader, and bragged about the retainer she had, the one with blue sparkles. Her classmates, however, thought differently. During free time, everyone played Oregon Trail on the computer. Everyone, that is, but Buford. No one would let her play with them and so at a very young age, she learned a very important lesson.

“I knew even then that it wasn’t right to treat someone like s--- because they’re different than you,” she said. Instead of playing with the other kids, Buford sought sanctuary in a bean bag chair in the corner of the room where she read the American Sign Language dictionary. “I didn’t have to worry about feeding my cattle,” she said, “I just fed my brain.” That was her first glance at a future working with the deaf community.

It’s difficult to picture this woman, described as upbeat and contagious by Wright, being ostracized and sitting alone. “She is not shy,” Neely said, “and she is able to make anyone feel comfortable and at home around her.”

“I vowed in second grade [to help the deaf] cause I never wanted anyone to feel as lonely as I felt,” Buford said. And that’s exactly what she has done. As a sophomore in college she began taking American Sign Language (ASL) classes. Four semesters later, she considers herself fluent enough to pass as deaf. She wanted to learn the language quickly, so she tried to fully immerse herself.

“It’s not like I can study abroad in a deaf country,” she said, so instead she did extra activities outside of class and watched YouTube videos to accelerate her learning.

Buford says she feels comfortable in the deaf community because of the many parallels that can be drawn between them and the gay community. She says many ASL translators are gay because they know what it’s like to be different.

“There are preconceived notions about the way deaf and gay people act,” Wright, who is also involved with ASL, said. “In reality, we are all the same. We all have struggles in life.”

Both groups are minorities made to feel ostracized by a society that doesn’t understand them. With only an estimated 8.8 million gay and an estimated 28.8 million deaf people in the United States, many deaf and gay people report feeling inadequate for society.

According to the Gallaudet University Archives, in 1883 it was proposed that two deaf people shouldn’t be able to marry because they would isolate themselves from hearing society, much like laws still stand to prevent marriage of two gay people in America. Apart from society as a whole, parents of gay or deaf children frequently think they can “fix” their child with certain training or therapy.

“We’re not broken...do you want your money back or something?” Buford asked. Her parents still don’t accept Buford’s sexuality, and after she brought Neely to a family function, her father asked her to leave her “friend” at home next time.

Her grandfather, who Buford considers the rock of the family, was not surprised when she came out to him. Buford’s tattooed military portrait of him on her right shoulder offers a friendly smile as she talks about him. After the news of her new girlfriend spread throughout the school and her brother outed her to her parents, Buford didn’t have a chance to come out directly to almost anyone except for her grandfather. After sitting him down and explaining everything to him, he simply responded, “I always knew you favored women.”

Torn between the gay community and the Christian community, Buford has come to a realization. “I think Christians stereotype gays as much as gays stereotype Christians,” she said.

Today, Buford identifies neither with Christian nor with lesbian. “If you identify as something, people like to put you in a box,” she said. She explained that if you say you’re a lesbian people think you must be “butch,” wear plaid and ride a Harley. If you say you’re Christian then you must be the kind of Bible-thumping person who forces The Word on people.

She does, however, feel as close as ever to her early love, the deaf community. Being ostracized at different parts of her life has given Meagan Buford the experience and strength to reach out to those less fortunate. “Feeling like I’m back in the bean bag is when I make the most progress,” she said.

Sun, sun, go away

It's Saturday in Athens. And, hey!, we actually won! AND I actually went to the game! Needless to say, it's no normal Saturday.

I have some game day advice for all the frequent visitors of Sanford Stadium. Aside from drinking lots of water and not forgetting your ticket, hear me out dawg fans: WEAR SUNSCREEN.

I can see my mother nodding in approval of my wisdom.

But sorry, Mother, this is not strictly for responsibility reasons of saving my skin and avoiding cancer. You should all wear sunscreen come Saturday afternoons to avoid terrible, horrible, no good, very bad tan lines.

Now normal tan lines around your arm from a t-shirt are almost unavoidable and much less embarrassing. The ones I'm referring to are what I'm left with after today's game.

1. The arm tan. My sleeveless dress helped me stay away from the farmer's tan, but I still managed an infinitely obvious line across my shoulder. It was only my left shoulder though so I only look half like a freak.

2. The sunglass tan. Go ahead and accept this one. With your lack of sunscreen you can either accept the sunglass tan and match your fellow classmates come Monday, or you can suffer through three hours of squinting into the sun that so kindly shines directly on the student section.

3. The chest tan. Beware of your neckline as you get dressed in your gameday sorostitute attire because, should you forego sunscreen, you will have to wear clothes with this exact same neck for a week to hide your new, semi-permanent neckline.

4. The necklace tan. Luckily I was smart enough to remove my large and in charge necklace before the game started because I am all too used to giving people awkward side-stares on the Monday after when they have the sunburnt outline of a chunky necklace that seemed like a good idea at the time.

5. The worst. And definitely most embarrassing and impossible to hide: The Georgia "G" tan line. That's right. Those adorable little face tattoos that you put on your cheek to show how spirited you are. I now have a pale oval on my cheek. There is no excuse for it's placement except for a "G" tattoo or falling asleep on the beach with only your thumb on the side of your face.


So, all-weather fans, beware of this bitch of a life source we call the sun. Next time I hope you will consider bringing along the SPF and if not, you have been warned.