This should tell you something about the women in my family...

From my grandma, last night at Thanksgiving: "Well, I could be wrong, but I'm not."

Thanksgiving

I just hosted my first successful Thanksgiving dinner. I made a turkey, gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and cranberry sauce all from scratch. I know many of you do this every year, but I am quite pleased with myself, and I must say, I think my dad would be proud.

Also, the pictures loaded backwards. So travel back in time with me, through el Thanksgiving de Fletcher.

The sides

Mom, making her plate

Erin came over to help me get ready. She's an excellent candle lighter/dish washer/store-runner.

The turkey and me (turkey on left)

Making stuffing.

This is how I feel about flying:

From Anne Lamott:

"My idea of everything running smoothly on an airplane is that once in the air, A) I not die in a slow motion fiery crash or get stabbed to death by terrorists, and that B) none of the other passengers try to talk to me."

Exactly.

Any advice or resources?

So, I am going to attempt to write a short story over Christmas break. I have never attempted this feat, so I will take any advice anyone would like to give me. I am remembering Anne Lamott's advice that writing always starts with "shitty first drafts," though. So that should help me feel better about struggling through the process.

I have been writing a little more lately. I really do enjoy it. My breakup music essay is in rough draft state. I journaled on the plane to and from DC. I made notes galore for my short story. I don't see it as a career option for me,  just an amusing hobby. Except that I am sort of an ambitious person, and have fantasies of being published in The New Yorker and that somehow transitioning to being on Oprah to be interviewed about my one published story. That's how it works, right? :D

This, would be called rambling. Enjoy, my friends.

That Girl

It is only in hindsight that I realize that when it comes to knowing when to say “when” with my ex-boyfriend, I was That Girl. Ugh. The one you never want to be. You know, she’s the one in the horror movie who decides to leave the secure cabin with only her flashlight while the killer is on the loose. Some people yell, “No! No! Don’t do it!” at the screen. They empathize, seeing that she just doesn’t see the reality of the situation she is in.  I, on the other hand, was usually the one leaning over to my friend and whispering my judgment, “What a moron. Who would be stupid enough to do that?”

Apparently, I was stupid enough to do that. Twice.

The first time, there was some mutual hemming and hawing. Did we really want to do this? Was breaking up the answer, or did we just need to think about some things? So, we took a month off, to ponder our relationship.  While apart, I pondered many things, but apparently did not spend enough time pondering the times he told me I just wasn’t his type. Or that he thought I should dress sexier when we went out (I did remind him that going to Red Robin is not really considered "going out."). Essentially, he wanted to change me.  But, blinded by the drunkenness of first love, and armed with my flashlight, I left the cabin to wander around in the woods.

Three weeks later, he broke up with me again. I yelled at him, slammed a door in his face, and told him we would never be friends. Two whole weeks later, I decided that enough time had passed for being friends to work out just fine. This time, I didn’t even bring the flashlight.

Regular friends lasted about a week. Then, we made out in the car. And as movie-goers everywhere yelled, “No, no! Don’t do it!” I entered the dreaded “friends with benefits” stage. That’s what I call it now-because that’s what it was. At the time, I called it, “Just seeing what’s going to happen,” or even better, “It’s complicated. He needs to take things slowly and not put any labels on this.” 

Oh, yes. I was That Girl. The one I had silently judged for years, seeing her as weak and pathetic.  Internally rolling my eyes when she tried to explain why she was still with that same boyfriend we’d all told her to break up with.

And then, finally, enough was enough. I locked the door to the cabin, put the chair up against it, and called the cops. But, even though I finally wised up, I learned not to judge the girl with the flashlight. Sometimes, you just have to see for yourself what’s out there. 

Halloweenie!

Ms. Mosalaii, Ms. Lavia, Ms. Fletcher and Ms. Isakson rocking our Halloween gear.
My yearbook students and me in our costumes.
The two Jessica's of Carnegie are starting our own band. We will rock you.

Why I go to church...

Every so often, someone asks me why I make the effort to go to church-it's early, it's sometimes my only sleep-in day (now that I have National Boards on various Saturday mornings), and it's mostly just sitting and listening. Sometimes I even ask myself this question. The answer: I go because it's beautiful.

On Sunday, there was a 91 year old man who got baptized. Ninety-one! He just became a Christian a few months ago, and wanted to be baptized, so there he was. I got nervous when they dunked him (he seemed a little fragile), but I also cried, because I mean, what better a picture of new life, at any time, through Jesus. It was pretty cool.

Another time, we were doing communion and I noticed a man in a wheelchair a few rows in front of me. He seems to be completely paralyzed, based on his wheelchair and such, but I don't really know all the details. But, when it was time to take communion, the usher standing near us quietly leaned over and placed the communion cracker in his mouth, and then helped him sip the grape juice by holding it to his lips. I seriously think it might have been the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Sometimes, when we're singing, all of my doubts and questions and worries go away, for just a few minutes. I feel the peace and truth of God while I sing songs about him. Usually they are the hymns or some other song with lyrics that aren't incredibly repetitive. And even if the sermon was boring (which it usually isn't. I'm just saying), and even if I'm sleepy and hungry, those two minutes make the whole thing worth it.

And every week, we end the service by everyone reciting the benediction: "May the amazing grace of the master Jesus Christ, the extravagant love of God, and the intimate friendship of the Holy Spirit be with us all."

That's why I go to church.