Pictures and Explanations

In honor of our closing on Friday, here are some badly-taken pictures of our house. I don't have photography skills or a very good camera, so you'll just have to take what you can get here.

This is most of the front of the house. With some snow.

This is sort of what you see when you walk in the front door. You're standing in a living room, which looks like...

this. As seen from the loft/landing you could see in the previous picture. That room is the office, which looks like...

this. This, of course, is the second level of the house, where our bedroom and a couple of other bedrooms (one is currently the "box room," and the other is YOUR ROOM!) are located.

And because I told my mom I would send a picture of our new-to-us dining table...

here it is, all Thanksgivinged up. Note the Norman Rockwell turkey (purchased fully-cooked at Honeybaked Ham because I don't so much love raw meat) and my father-in-law about to rip into it with great zeal. The people to the left of Daniel are some new friends from church.

Around the corner from the dining room is the kitchen -- sorry, I don't have any pictures of that one yet. It looks like a kitchen. And then there's a family room, which looks a little something like...

this. Except there are couches that you can't see here because, again, I am a bad photographer. And that's Daniel playing Guitar Hero.

Then downstairs there's a basement with another bedroom/bathroom (YOUR ROOM??) and, the real crowd-pleaser, the ping-pong room.

I think that covers it. I know this photographic tour makes it all sort of hard to picture, but you know what? There's an easy solution to that. And I think I've already dropped enough hints that you can figure out what I mean.

Now to explain my cryptic reference to my second job (which, by the way, ended today! Woot, woot!). I worked at a doll store called Mollycoddles, and here's the schpiel I gave new customers: "Mollycoddles is a newborn nursery for baby dolls. When a little girl comes in and finds a doll that she loves and wants to take home, we take her through an adoption process. She gives the baby its first bath, weighs and measures the baby, we give the baby a birth certificate, and the baby and 'mommy' get matching hospital bracelets [please excuse the lack of parallel structure there]. Then she can bring the baby back in for free checkups, and she can borrow our strollers to stroll the baby through the mall!"

Does that help you picture it all a little better? The store is supposed to feel like a real newborn nursery, so I was supposed to act like a real nurse. That sounds a little creepy, but it really wasn't.

And here's a freebie for you: Last night I applied to be a student at Pike's Peak Community College so I can take a hip-hop dance class next semester with two girls from our college group at church. For reals.

In conclusion, the Wigintons wish you a merry Christmas. Especially Justin.

This is old news by now

to anyone who would be reading this blog, but we now live in Colorado Springs. Colorado Springs, Colorado. Not some other Colorado Springs.

The abbreviated version of the story (more details are available upon request) is that Daniel and I were happy in Kentucky, loved our church, felt like our ministry there was stronger than ever, etc. -- but also felt like we needed to be somewhere else. So we started looking. We had a few plans in mind, but God made it abundantly clear that He had a different plan. And now here we are in Colorado Springs, where Daniel is the Singles/College minister at Vista Grande Baptist Church.

And I'm not exaggerating when I say that this place is totally the bomb. I love living here, despite the fact that the temperature right now is negative five degrees. NEGATIVE FIVE, with a "feels like" temperature of NEGATIVE EIGHTEEN. And did you know that it snows here? Kind of a lot? That part is pretty cool, and it's easy to overlook the fact that your extremities are frostbitten when you have sweet views of Pike's Peak from everywhere in town.

When we moved at the beginning of November, we hadn't sold our house and didn't expect to sell it any time soon. But you know how I mentioned God's making it abundantly clear that we should be here? Exhibit A: With only a day or two to look for houses before we moved, we found a place that is perfect for us, and the owner agreed to let us rent until our house sold. Exhibit B: Our house sold a few weeks later! If you watch the news at all, you know that is kind of a big deal. We closed last Wednesday, and we will close Friday on the aforementioned house here. Yay!

I'll post pictures when I'm not blogging from work.

And speaking of work -- I have a job. I work at Glen Eyrie, which is a conference/retreat center owned by the Navigators. The main attraction out here is a castle that was built by General
William Jackson Palmer, founder of Colorado Springs. And you can stay there if you come visit us. Hint, hint. I book reservations here (from what used to be Gen. Palmer's carriage house), which basically means I answer the phone all day. And for some reason that I don't quite understand, I really enjoy it.

I also have another job, in which I dress like a nurse and pretend to provide pediatric care to baby dolls. That part is pretty entertaining. But this job also requires that I sometimes stand at a kiosk at the "ghetto mall" (wearing pastel purple scrubs) for hours at a time, often engaging in polite conversation with people who should probably only be allowed in public under special guardianship. I'm making it sound worse than it is, but I won't be heartbroken when I'm through with this job at the end of the week.

And now I can't think of anything else with which to update you. Feel free to comment if I didn't address your specific question. And feel free to leave a comment telling me when you're going to come visit us! COME VISIT US!

Where, oh where, has my depth perception gone?

This morning, I hit myself in the jaw with the laundry room door. I got ahead of myself and pushed the door closed before my head was out of the way. Who does that?? I would blame the cold medicine I took this morning, but I DID THE SAME THING YESTERDAY. Except yesterday I hit myself in the nose and forehead. My whole face hurts today (don't even say it, Dad -- I know what you're thinking). Do you think this is a symptom of a bigger problem? Like, maybe an extreme case of idiocy?

Add this to the list of things I don't do well.

This morning I went to Kroger with a list of six items. Each of these items cost less than $4, but somehow I still managed to buy $70 worth of groceries. This is getting way out of hand. What will become of our family when I have to buy groceries for more than two people?!

Should I be concerned?

I just got home from work and sat down at the computer (always first on the agenda)... and this Disney princesses website was up. Keep in mind that the computer-using inhabitants of my house are 1) Micah, who has been at work all morning, and 2) Daniel. Do you think I need to stage some sort of intervention?

Nevermind

Soooo... remember how I said I was organizing my thoughts and preparing to post about something serious? Let's just pretend that never happened, okay? Because I thought about that whole serious post for long enough that I resolved it in my head, thus eliminating the need (for me, anyway) to write the post at all.

Instead, I want to tell you two things. One is mildly entertaining; the other is nothing short of earth-shattering. Let's begin.

#1. This afternoon, my dear husband asked me to go on a walk with him. As usual, we wove (weaved? too lazy to check on that one) through the streets of our subdivision. Because we just love to walk past dozens of houses that look exactly like ours. Except with better landscaping. So we were about halfway through our walk when a school bus drove up behind us and dropped a kid off at his house. Then as the bus drove past us, we looked in one of the windows -- AND WE WERE BULLIED BY A LITTLE KID!

For real. This kid was probably in second or third grade, and he was scowling at us and making a fist. Like this, except with only one fist:

This scenario was enormously amusing to me, though it would probably be less amusing if I were his mother. Or his teacher. Or in second or third grade.

#2. I love breakfast cereal. [Why did I just specify the breakfast part? Is there any other kind of cereal I would be talking about? Do I think you would be confused and assume that I was professing my love for that rice cereal stuff that babies eat?] I thought for several years that the ultimate cereal was Kellogg's Cracklin' Oat Bran. Despite its unappealing name and cat-food-like appearance, this stuff is the bomb.

Cracklin' Oat Bran is oh so very tasty and nutritious (I think?), which is almost all I can ask for in a cereal, breakfast or otherwise. But COB (I almost gave it the nickname "The Crack" but thought better of it) has one tragically tragic flaw: it is very, very expensive.

So imagine my delight when I recently encountered a cereal that satisfies my desire for deliciousness, vitamin and mineral fortifiedness, AND price reasonableness! BEHOLD:

Total Cinnamon Crunch. It tastes like Cinnamon Toast Crunch, but it has 100%'s by all the good stuff on the nutrition label. Go buy yourself a box right now. It's so good that you might even forgive me for this ridiculously lame post.

To hold you over until I can organize my thoughts

I have a serious post a-brewin' in my head, but the lure of a Sunday afternoon nap is strong today, and my brain has turned to mush. So until I am able to see straight and form coherent sentences, I'll leave you with some pictures. Hip, hip, hooray!

(l-r) Angela, me, Rebecca, Whitney

These three hott ladies surrounding me are some of my dearest friends. We met each other in Baltimore last weekend to continue our now firmly established Baseball Trip Tradition. Since graduating from high school, we have reunited to see five major league baseball games (Rangers, Royals, Braves, Phillies, Orioles -- in case anyone cares) and to reminisce about old times and stay up-to-date on more recent times. This year, Angela's sister moved her wedding to a Friday so she wouldn't disrupt our already-planned Baseball Trip completely. We take the Tradition seriously.


And I would be remiss if I didn't mention that we LOVED Baltimore. If you haven't been, you should fix that right away. Here's a picture of us preparing to enjoy some very grown-up entertainment on the Inner Harbor.

See? Very grown up.

I'm going to risk becoming overly-sentimental here and say that being with these girls was exactly what my heart needed last weekend. For the past year, I've wrestled with feelings of inadequacy because I was not the life-changing teacher or the perfect minister's wife that I hoped I would be. Besides being disappointed in myself, I have felt as if I were disappointing other people who also expected more of me. So the weekend after an especially challenging week of ministry wifehood, and the weekend before what would have been my first day back to school, it was good to be with girls who know my heart and love me despite my many imperfections.

Okay, that was more than I meant to write. Now I really need a nap.

Superstar

My Granddad, an octogenarian as of this year, is an internet superstar. Click here to see an adorable picture of him at the park feeding geese. This might be the happiest I have ever seen him look in a picture -- though Grandmomma is quick to point out that he was asked to pose for this, lest anyone should think he really spends his spare time giddily feeding the geese at the park by himself. Still, you can't help but smile at that picture. Makes me a little homesick.

I have insurance, and I'm not afraid to use it.

While Pier 1 is pleasant and allows me to pretend to have decorating skills, it provides me with zero benefits. Unless you count NOT BEING CONSUMED BY MY JOB as a benefit. So I'm trying to take advantage of my medical insurance from the ol' teaching job before it expires at the end of this month.

Last week I went to my doctor and got some drugs I should have started taking months ago. But this week is when the real fun started. I've started visiting a chiropractor because of some nasty tension headaches I've had basically every day for the last year or so. My own remedy of taking handfuls of Ibuprofen every day has worked pretty well, but methinks this is not so good for the internal organs. I have gone to the chiropractor twice since Monday for consultations and x-rays -- and a heavenly 38-minute massage (aaaaaaahhhhh) -- all for the price of a teensy co-pay. And the nice little chiropractor man knows I only have good insurance for a few more weeks, so he assures me that we can get a handle on my headaches by then. And that means more massages. Aaaaaaahhhhh.

Quick Life Update

I have a new job. At Pier 1. Unfortunately, my income is drastically smaller than it used to be, so I can't really take advantage of my sweet employee discount. But some of you might be getting some stylish home decor this Christmas.

One of the funniest things about this job so far is that customers will ask me questions about decorating or entertaining as if I really had some expertise in these areas. I guess that snazzy blue apron is deceiving because I DO NOT HAVE EXPERTISE IN THESE AREAS. Ask me about grammar, and I'm all over it. Literary analysis? Okay. But ask me what pillows you should buy for the couch in your living room, and my opinion is just a step or two above WORTHLESS. So it's pretty amusing to me that people will actually listen to the very much not expert opinions I give them. In fact, in the short span of time I've had this job, literally hundreds of dollars have been spent based on my recommendations. I might have more power now than I did back when I was molding the minds of America's youth. Scary on so many levels, right?

Embracing My Inner Hippie

Those of you who have spoken to me in person lately have surely heard me talk about a little initiative called "Daniel and Micah's 100 Thing Challenge." The basic idea (okay, even most of the name) came from this guy, who was recently featured in Time magazine for his efforts to rid himself of all but 100 personal items. He purports, correctly in my opinion, that we Americans have become obsessed with "stuff" to a pathetic degree, and our excessive consumerism has given us a twisted view of what is really important.

And dadgum if that concept didn't hit a little close to home for me.

Like most people, I spent the first 22 years of my life with only a single room to hold the majority of my stuff -- first my bedroom in my parents' house, then college dorm rooms. But in the mere TWO YEARS since my stuff-holding capacity has increased to multiple rooms, I have acquired a veritable crap-load of stuff.

I noticed this about a year and a half ago when Daniel and I bought our current house. We were moving out of a rental house whose approximate square footage was a double-digit number (I jest -- but it was super small), but we just kept hauling more and more stuff out of that place. It was a little embarrassing to discover the degree to which we had defied all storage capacity odds.

But then we moved into a house with ENTIRE ROOMS that we didn't really need for anything besides holding our stuff, so our massive collection of worldly goods seemed pretty insignificant, and I continued buying stuff we didn't need. Particularly stuff on clearance -- because who cares that you don't need it if it's cheap, right? And that brings us up to about two weeks ago when I read the article about this guy in Time.

The 100 Thing Challenge idea struck me as sheer brilliance, but Daniel and I were both raised by People Who Dwell Amongst Lots of Stuff (love you, Mom!), so we needed a less extreme alternative. Thus, I instituted our modified version of the challenge, in which we get rid of 100 things by the end of the month.

This started right after I finished up the school year and suddenly had like twelve more hours than I previously had at my disposal every weekday, so I got pretty into this whole stuff-shedding process. Okay, that's an understatement. I actually lost sleep one night because I couldn't stop thinking about all the stuff I wanted to get rid of. And I know it sounds ridiculous, but this little challenge has sort of changed my life.

Quit laughing.

I just feel so liberated now from my desire to get and hang on to stuff. In the past, I've had trouble with attempts to de-clutter because I felt bad about getting rid of anything that I thought was mildly useful or cool. Like the plethora of fancy crystal things people gave us as wedding gifts. Or the dozens of writing utensils spewing forth from every drawer in the house. Or the chocolate fountain. Seriously. But now that I have labeled that "feeling bad" for what it is -- materialism! -- it's very simple to put those items in a box and haul them to Goodwill.

Besides the extra space that has magically appeared in our house as a result of the 100 Thing Challenge, I think my life is slightly more in line with my values now. I am more in control of my consumerism, which makes me a better steward of my money and even spurs me on to think about social justice-type issues -- like, What can I do about the fact that I have enough money to buy things I don't need while other people don't have enough money to buy the things they do need? And stuff like that.

So to recap:
-Go visit this guy's blog.
-Work on conquering your addiction to stuff.

Gainful Unemployment

As of last week, I am no longer a teacher. I'll spare you the blow-by-blow (Unhappy Teacher Micah vs. Idealistic Always-Wanted-to-Be-a-Teacher Micah) of how this came to be -- because, despite all the mental anguish that led up to this point, I am quite happy not being a teacher right now. Really, ridiculously happy. So happy that I'm tempted to get up early just to enjoy a full day of not having to work.

But the best part? The best part is that I'M STILL GETTING PAID! Until the end of July, I'm making the same amount of money for doing NOTHING that I was making for allowing middle school students to sap every ounce of physical and emotional energy I possessed. That's right.

I spent the first week of my new-found freedom being a housewife. This was perhaps the most domestically productive week of my life, as I organized every space in our house (including the garage, which had previously never even occurred to me) and cleaned most of said spaces. There were even a few nights that I cooked things for dinner.

This week, however, I have wised up and am no longer calling myself a housewife. Now I am unemployed. Though this label sometimes carries negative connotations, I'm regarding those with an "I'm rubber, you're glue" attitude because, as mentioned above, I'M STILL GETTING PAID.

And I get to reap the psychological benefits of the unemployed label by completely absolving myself of any responsibility whatsoever. I don't have to feel bad if the bathroom that was sparkling last week is kind of not very clean this week. That overflowing hamper of dirty clothes? Gee, it's a shame nobody around here is a housewife. But on the off chance that I actually do perform some task that makes our house a more pleasant place to live, I can congratulate myself shamelessly. Good for you, Micah -- aren't you ambitious! You should go play on the Internet and eat spumoni for the rest of the afternoon!

True, it's a little embarrassing when someone asks what I've done today, and I have to rack my brain to come up with something that's a little more socially acceptable than NOTHING! SWEET, GLORIOUS NOTHING. And true, this will probably get old after another week or two. Or twelve. I'm sure the motivated, achieving part of me will start to get restless one of these days.

But for the moment -- this is the life, baby.