to find beauty

On the Move... Meow

Next month will mark three years of living in the Troutdale apartment. It seems like yesterday we moved in, but it also feels like a million years.

Three years ago, I wrote about moving to the apartment and the craziness our life felt back then: newly married and excited to build a home. I vividly remember Moving Day... packing the U-Haul. My muscles sore, and Dave cranky at me for shoving boxes  in the truck disorganized. I remember driving the U-Haul to our apartment and thinking that my whole home was in that truck. I remember un-loading the truck with some amazing friends of Dave (heroes!) and taking them to a Chinese buffet afterward to say thanks. Oh, and it rained the whole time. The whole flippin' time. We were soaked.

Next month we are moving again. The actual date, we don't really know yet except it will be in October and we will need help. And it better not rain.

We will say good-bye to Troutdale, my favorite grocery store and gas station, to our favorite best-ever Chinese restaurant (where, I swear, the lady has a crush on Dave) and to Kings Meadows apartments. We will say a huge hello to a new home on the outskirts of Portland. On a dead-end street technically in Lents (but close enough to Happy Valley to feel a little snobby), we will be renting a home. It's not much bigger than our apartment (and Dave and I will share a bathroom - oh the horrors!) but its a house with a yard. And we couldn't be more excited. Dave will have a man-cave. I've been obsessed with pinterest and ideas to decorate the guest room, the kitchen, the master, oh, about everything.

The Mt. Scott House is pretty close to being smack dab in the middle of the two churches Dave and I serve with... which is great. Already, I am meeting people who will be my new neighbors. People I attend church with! People I like!

Oh yeah, and we are getting another black-and-white cat named Pepe. Pray that Elwood will like him and not want to eat him or bat him around like a new toy.

So there it is. The Unglert's are on the move. And we are getting another cat. Whew!

back to the swing of things

In about thirty seconds my darling husband is going to ask me to get off the computer, and come to bed. I can hear him turn off the tv, the lights, and make his way to the office where I'm hunched over my laptop, asking myself how I even begin to write after so much time and emotions have elapsed.

Dive in? Head first, and the heart will follow?

I believe I left ya'll off with Dave's sad announcement about leaving the shelter job and us about to move to Troutdale. That would mean the last time I wrote, I was living in an entirely different home. 

We moved. In the rain. Lots and lots of heavy, cold rain. We filled a U-Haul with furniture, wedding gifts, clothes and my craft supples. Thank the Lord, Dave found some helpful guys to help us unload. My aching back thanked them!

The day after the bulk of our belongings were moved, the sun came out and shined gloriously.

I had taken a week or so off to nest. Pictures on walls, Fiestaware and more dishes than I will ever need in a lifetime in the cupboards (our hall closet was converted to a food pantry due to lack of cupboard space...) and much to-do over couch and tv placement. 

I love, love, love my new home. As much as I enjoyed our first place, there was something special about moving into an apartment with fun things like his and her bathrooms, an office(!!!), a big bedroom, a dining room (for our new table!!!). Oh, and we even have our very own laundry area with no limits on which day we can use it. It's fabulous!

Fast forward to present day, and we have just finished paying off the (ridiculous) pet deposit fee so Elwood can be a legal tenant too. Dave and Elwood get along great, and often I feel a bit left out from their male bonding. But its nice to have my boys with me.

I also just de-decorated the Christmas tree. Our first Christmas together married, and we HAD to get a real tree.

And now, I know my post is short and I'm barely scraping over the last several months, but I really do hear my husband calling out, "Come to bed!" I miss writing, so I will be back! 

So I must, for now, say good night.

 

 

 

too tired to write, so

here's a list.

It's going to be a busy, good summer. There are some pretty significant dates coming up... wow.

May 3
I've worked at Abundant Life for 5 years!

June 4
Days until I become an aunt (again) or Days until Henry enters the world: 29

June 12
Days until I graduate from college (my BS): 38

My last assignment/exam ever for an undergrad degree should be done by June 10th.

July 30
Days until I get married: 84

Which is followed by at least 8 days of pure Honeymoonin' vacation time.

Sometime in August: I will officially and legally no longer be named Corinne Reed Fisher. Enter: Unglert.

Also once married, I will officially no longer be part of statistics of grown children living with mom-and-dad. I will leave their nest to start my own. Woo-hoo.

August 28
Days until I turn 30: 113

"shet da dough"

At the beginning of the summer, I wrote about my hunt for a home. Somewhere I can host friends for late-night movies, paint my walls a shocking white (yes, white) and re-do my room HGTV-style, and well, not live with my parent's anymore. Honestly, I was spurred mostly by the fact I was turning 29 and not sure of the coolness factor of facing 30 and living with the folks.

(I think that's a pride issue more than anything...)

It has been an interesting journey. As I look around my bedroom, stacks of boxes piled high... my desk emptied and the normally-very-crowded space under my bed completely empty... my room is no longer a living space... but a shell of the last five or six years of my life.  I've spent every precious spare moment over the last couple months, sorting over 20 years of stuff. Photos. Journals. Tax statments. Every receipt for anything I ever bought (really.)  I am not even close to being done. But, I've stopped packing for now.

The plans to move keep changing.  At this moment, I honestly don't know where I will be living in two months. The current plan is in a bit of "limbo land." Meanwhile, the boxes around my room, are becoming shelves for random bits of mail, laundry, and nap sites for my cat, Elwood. I wonder if I should just unpack, so I can have some semblence of normalcy...

I started fall term of school this week. My week nights will be packed with lifegroup- starting up again next Monday, studying in New Seasons or Borders, dates (with Dave, of course) and trying to catch a One Tree Hill episode... and I'll be honest, I am a little hooked on Gray's Anatomy right now. I barely have enough time and energy to do these very important things, and add worrying about moving, painting parties, trips to IKEA (which will be dates with Dave, fyi)? Am I crazy? Maybe I need to just stop and slow it all down.

I wonder if I am being really selfish. I don't need to move out, I want to move out so I can host parties, cook in my own kitchen, and generally be a mature adult. Even though I have budgeted the new housing expenses, maybe those funds should be re-routed back to the Dave Ramsey Debt Snowball plan? Maybe I am pushing something that God doesn't have planned for me right now.

My junior year of high school, we got a new kid- he was from Viriginia and all the girls were mesmerized by his good looks and southern accent (I confess, I was one of the girls.) I remember he taught us a new expression (not sure if there was a deep meaning attached or not) and I don't recall the proper spelling, but it sounded like "shet da dough." Shut the door. I feel like I keep hearing the sounds a door shutting. Woosh.

I've spent the last several Sundays volunteering with the youth at a local homeless shelter. These kids just want a home. Well, they also want a fancy cell phone, but they are teenagers! Give 'em a break. Is a home something fancy and perfect for hosting parties? No, its place where people live together, hopefully happily. Home is where the heart is... and there is heart at this shelter with these kids.

I want heart where I live. Whether its with room mates, on my own, or with my parents. And as I navigate this season of uncertainty: I will let go and let God. Even when He shuts the door... and eventually opens a brand new one...

hunting for home-sweet-home

I am a hunter. Minus the head-to-toe camo and the newest animal tracking gadgetry, of course. Because I am not on the prowl for a new wall trophy or jerky ingredients (yum).

And no, my prey is not a boyfriend/husband either. Though it may be next on the hit list.

No, I am hunting for a new place to call my own. It's on my task list to do when I am 28. I have about three months left. I've looked at one place in real life... checked out hundreds online. I have determined some "must haves" and some "would like to haves" -- my biggest concern being how my cat, Elwood, would fare. I have determined two okay locations: Clackamas or certain parts of Gresham (though I am picky: Rockwood area is totally out.)

I've looked at apartment layouts, my budget, I've inventoried items I already have and will need... I've dreamed and schemed. I've considered that the packing process will be enormously annoying and a lot of work. I am praying for my new neighbors, and the new friendships I will be making.

And I hunt. And as I hunt, I am reminded by a friend that this is "a big deal." The step out of my parent's home into the big, bad world. Yes, I am 28 and yes, I have lived out of my parents home during college. But this is big.

I talk to my parents about it, fully expecting dad to throw a party. But they both appeared sad at the idea of me not being around. Which feels good. Dad makes a crack about how I will need to move back soon to take care of them anyways... so why leave. (He's not that old! And hello, give me some time to have my own family before I become a live-in caretaker!)

Mom is sad. She says, "but we will never see you again." Mom, I am not dying. I will be living less than 20 minutes away. I will be over all the time, especially if I don't have onsite laundry. I explain that I need to stretch my legs, be an adult, see if I can do it. She nods and says she felt the same way when she was *cough* 22.

And honestly, I don't really want to leave. I like my parent's house. I like having a yard, good cable and wireless internet. I like visiting with my parents. I like watching Soapnet with mom at 1am and hogging all the hot water before Dad takes a shower... hehe. I like knowing Elwood can prowl around the field next door for his furry victims. Okay, I don't like knowing the details, but I like that he likes to be a big, brave man-cat playing the field. I like the six minute commute to work. I like most of my neighbors.

So, as I hunt for a new home-sweet-home, I go forward with excitement but also some sadness for what I will be leaving. It feels scary and weird and I wonder if I can do it. And I can. I will!

Stay tuned.

moms and treasure boxes

I save... everything. I don't necessarily consider it pack-rat worthy. Maybe just... loyal. Extremely loyal to my memories. I also blame my mom for this quirky, space-consuming habit...

When I was little (like 4th or 5th grade) I would sneak into my mom's old boxes in the corners of the attic. Opening those boxes were like opening treasure chests because inside were mushy poems about boys penned by my mom(!!), her super-fan, super-obsessive photo collections starring Kris Kristofferson and Rita Coolidge (I suppose my own collages on Keanu Reeves aren't much better...), and a report on Charles Manson.

Okay, so the report was a little creepy to read through. (He was creepy.)

But the other report on "Women's Health" taught me a lot about the mysteries of being a woman... Though, it lacked the exciting details a curious little kid was looking to find! The book mom gave me later on... The Christian Girl's Guide to Becoming a Woman wasn't much help either.  I suppose that's why God gave us friends as we grow up who seem to know everything... Haha.

I was fascinated by mom's writings. I am sure it was a huge invasion of privacy (she never objected), but I loved reading about my mom and who she was when she was a teenager, a young adult...  I loved looking through her writings and her childhood momentos and I remember thinking that I wanted to save things as I grew up for my own daughters to sneak and find and learn who their mom was...

The Mary Englebreit desk calendar for today complements my reflections... I'm sure I'm breaking some copyright laws posting it... sorry Mary:

I am far from having my own little girls... okay, like really, really far away... but I do have some treasure boxes started for some day... you can sneak and read this blog anytime.

 

Mother's Day is coming up! May 10th, and it also falls on the same weekend as Abundant Life Church's "Overflowing with Hope" Spring Women's Retreat (May 8-9).

Wow. The timing is so perfect. Almost as if we are encouraging women to invite their moms or daughters to an event where they can spend time together... *wink* Or an opportunity for Moms to be given a 24-hour break from their everyday realities of dishes, laundry, carpools, diapers (and the list is endless) on a weekend that is set aside to honor moms anyways and spend time with other women, praising God and learning about hope from some neat women...

Click on either of the links for more information or to register online for this event.

Cori

Also posted at coolchurchwomen.com. Yep, I double-dipped.

true or false: "peaked" in high school

Have you ever left a conversation wondering if you were just unintentionally insulted?

I was told Saturday night that I "peaked" in high school.

I don't think this is true. And I want to write more on why... but its almost 1am and I have to work tomorrow.

For now, I am not going to let the Enemy use this comment to attack my confidence and my happiness in where I am and where I am going. I hope I never "peak" but continue to grow and learn more about myself and who God made me to be.

I know in life we have seasons where things are better/happier than others... but wouldn't it be depressing and hopeless if there was one time in our life that was best we could ever be- and it is high school?!

More on this topic later.

part one: oh-so-innocent weekend movie confession

I love movies. I grew up watching the old black-and-white classics with greats like Cary Grant and Gary Cooper and for years and years my favorite movies of all time were Grease, Anne of Green Gables and Pollyanna. (Still are, actually.) 

Then, I was introduced to the beauty called the male actor *wink wink*, and movies like Speed (Keanu Reeves) and the BBC Pride and Prejudice (Colin Firth) and anything with Hugh Grant became tops with me. I adore romantic comedies most of all, and always enjoy feel-good movies about little boys who build rockets or football teams who win the big game. Not that I don't love scary or action or just dumb movies. Remember: I love movies.

I still cry at Titanic and could watch Shawshank Redemption over and over again, and am completely unashamed that my birthday tradition for quite a few years now is visiting Hollywood Video and renting my free birthday movie rental. (This past year I rented What Happens In Vegas.) I will fight with a passion (that even concerns me sometimes) of the wonderfulness of the movie Blue Lagoon. I wonder if I have good movie taste, but most of the time I don't care too much because I watch most of my movies alone or with friends who understand my habits of renting straight-to-the-video store movies.

So, onto my movie confession. Saturday night, after spending the day babysitting an 8-year old and a 3 year-old (we played like I haven't played in years! riding bikes, jumping on the trampoline, baking funfetti cupcakes!) 

 

So, we made the cupcakes and they looked delicious... but I forgot to eat one! Terrible!

 

Trampolines are dangerous grounds for little brothers to tackle big sisters!

On my way home, I rented three movies. Nim's Island. Spiderwick Chronicles. and Alvin and the Chipmunks. At this time, I will casually remind you I recently turned 28. And these movies were for me to watch alone. Just for fun. However, I did spend the day with little kiddos, so I had some inspiration!

Defenses aside: I really did enjoy these movies. Of the three I loved Nim's Island the best. Seriously. Go rent it. Not that I didn't enjoy the flood of childhood memories of Alvin and the Chipmunk cartoon fests with my sister. After watching Nim's Island, I checked in with the parents. Mom complained that she had to watch the movie, Seven with my dad. I explained, "Well you should have watched my movies! No bloody heads at all!"  My dad's typical dad response: "Cori, aren't you too old for these movies?" To which I said to him, " I hope I never become too old!"

So... this was part one of my weekend movie confessions-- stayed tuned for part two and my lesson in choosing movies for a singles night out!

turning 28: the year of decisions

Yesterday I celebrated my much-anticipated birthday, the big 28 on the 28th. Ever since my second grade teacher told me of the coolness of the "golden birthday" I have looked forward to the special day. Not that I expected fireworks or the world to stop and cater to me or anything.

I am not delusional. (Though I did enjoy the birthday serenades.)

I have spent countless hours pondering, analyzing, and discussing the current status of my life at age 28 over the duration of the summer. This had led to my summer of big epiphanies and big decisions.

Maybe it was realizing the all the best love stories I told were those of others, and not my own. Maybe it realizing that all the men I did "date" this past year were not what I am looking for, deserve or even found that attractive. I was settling for what I thought I could "get" rather than what I ached for: someone that made my heart beat like crazy, that held my hand with gentleness, that was so extremely passionate about his job or hobbies that I could just stand back in awe and do what I love and do best: be supportive, and that I could talk to, relate to, and feel safe with. I've been told often by dear friends that the man who would finally steal my heart would be an incredible man. And I agree.

(Where are you?)

But how do I find that Incredibleness if I am hiding? Scared of getting hurt, rejected and unsure that the wonderfulness I know I possess could be seen and appreciated by another. So, I made the decision to stop hiding. Okay, so I am still figuring out what the looks like, but I am taking baby steps.

I also made the major decision to return to school and finish my bachelor's degree. I had been talking about doing this for the past year or so, but talk means nothing until you finally muster the courage to call the admissions office. I won't start classes until the end of September, and honestly, I haven't even registered yet. Dealing head-on with a little hurdle called "paying off the student account" first. $200 to go.

The school decision led to another decision to step down from the leadership team for the young adult ministry at my church. A ministry I have poured into for as long as I have attended the church and loved dearly. It seems ironic that I must leave college ministry to return to college, but in so many ways... I know it was the right thing to do.I probably should have done it a lot earlier. I am finding now an exciting (and intimidating) freedom with my time. (Of course this will dramatically change once school begins.)

I know this is only the beginning. My friend and boss forewarned me that this year was going to be a year of decisions. (Hopefully not alluding to insider boss knowledge about my job, eeks.) All I can say (with some nervous excitement) is: bring it on!

So, how's your love life?

Lately a common piece of advice I have been told is: "just be yourself." 

But what if 'being yourself" can be bold, crazy, pushy, bossy, assertive, talkative, and possibly intimidating?

Okay, so you can also add "harsh on oneself" too.

I remember in high school, freshman year, liking this boy... let's call him B. I thought he was soooo nice, soooo cute, soooo funny. He was tall and smart and in the same group of friends as I. He kinda reminded me of Arthur, that cartoon character with big glasses. I think Arthur was an anteater? I digress.

So, it was perfect when B arrived at a halloween party that my friend Julie had thrown. All night, I did my silly girl games to get his attention... to maybe talk to him or something monumental. I did learn he liked cheddar cheese best of all the cheeses.  (Hence the origin of his "secret code name" amongst a clique of girls for most of high school as Cheddar. Seriously, girls are weird.) After the halloween party, my best friend and I discussed every word he said and facial expression that he did that night. Analyzing everything. Of course, I also learned through our giggles that my best friend also liked him. Classic.

So, nothing shocking about best friends liking the same boy. She and I were close enough and dare I say, mature enough, to handle this little drama without it causing strain on our friendship. So what did we do? We decided to find out which one of us he liked the best, of course. So we asked J, one of the guys in the group that we felt safe going to (because he was dating Julie) to talk to B on our behalf. Remember this is high school and we were freshman. So, J went to B and was supposed to ask him which one of us he'd go out with. But J didn't do what we asked. Nope, instead, he told B that my best friend liked him... and never mentioned me at all.

When I found out that J did what he did..(because of course I found out), I asked J why? (By then, my best friend and B were snuggling up at football games and making plans for the big winter dance.) His response: because my best friend was mysterious and quiet. He said I talked too much and was not mysterious at all. Guys, especially guys like B, liked girls who had that certain something about them ... which I didn't have... I was too loud and talkative and had no mystery. (He really said all that.)

Ouch.

Now, goodness, here I am twelve years later still trying to figure out what that certain something is. I still hold on to the pain of me as gawky yet beautifully innocent fifteen-year old girl being told she wasn't good enough as she was. As much as I want to blame J for it... I know I can't. He was just a stupid freshman boy at the time and had no clue the power of his words. (Sorry J. I have forgiven you.)

So...My dad and I were discussing earlier tonight my communication style with men. (You will see why I was reminded of this particular high school story soon.) In an effort to improve my relationship with my dad, I updated him on my current "status" regarding dating and singleness. (He asked first. Ugh! Single girls need to have an auto answer for this ubiquitous, made-famous-by-Bridget-Jones question,'"How's your love life?") So, I gave him a very brief synopsis (trying of course to be honest and make myself not look foolish.)  His response: I am too pushy, too familiar too soon, and just too MUCH. That I need to hold back more, and, yes, be more mysterious. HE SAID BE MORE MYSTERIOUS. HE REALLY DID!

Seriously.

I responded, with a bit of passion, why would I want to be someone I am not? Obviously I am not mysterious and quiet and have no idea how to be! Who says being bold is a bad thing? I told him people (okay, the ladies who "mentor" me at church) tell me to be who I am. That if I pretended to be someone I am not, than I would be lying to myself and others. I have to live with me forever, I need to like who I am. He needs to like me for who I am too. I am not a terrible person. I am not a freak of nature. Goodness. I am liked and respected. I have cool friends. Jesus loves me!

Probably wishing the topic never came up, my dad tried another (unsuccessful) approach. He suggested I just talk less. He knows when I am nervous or really uncomfortable or really comfortable actually, I tend to talk a lot. (or not at all, I am funny that way... what girl doesn't have her quirks.) This is not the first time he has told me this. His advice to me before dates has always been to not talk so much. That and to wear my hair down.

I think maybe from now on when people ask me about my love life, I will just answer honestly, "I love Jesus. Jesus loves me. And I am happy that I get to serve him wholeheartedly everyday. Thats all that really matters." And I will probably over analyze to the point of verbal paralysis whether or not I can talk to a guy ever again without internal censors alarming "Shut up! Shut up!" :P

For the record... my best friend dated B for I think two months. B is now happily married to his high school sweetheart M and is a proud daddy. We (all of us mentioned in the story) remain good friends. J too.