My Birthday In Review

My birthday began when Damian woke me up with some of these...

Then, he had to take the car to the mechanic (apparently, life does not stop for my birthday, as I once believed), but he came back with some of these...

What you see is not one dozen, but one dozen and a half roses (which means 18). Yeah, it took me a while to figure that one out, too. Damian politely ripped off the big, red sticker that read "40% MORE FREE!" His mother taught him well.
Damian, however, was only building up to the grand finale, which was something I have been wanting for years...

A Kindle! After I opened my Kindle (and expressed appropriate levels of both shock and gratitude, which, in case you didn't know, is the traditional response to offer when receiving the Most Perfect Birthday Present Ever), we ate all of my favorite things: spinach dip, macaroni and cheese, fluffy dinner rolls, and tender steak (courtesy of Damian, magnificent chef extraordinaire, of course).

 My mother also joined us for dinner, and she brought one of these....

(We wouldn't have let her in if she hadn't). 

Kidding! 

And then, we went to one of my favorite places...Target.  And my mother let me pick out one of these...

a globe! And I have been curled up in my reading nook ever since, with my Kindle (which I adore)...

And yes, that is a lawn chair, and yes, we still need to buy furniture. (We're waiting until we pay off the Kindle. Kidding! Sort of...).

And now, in a grand sweeping conclusion, I will tell you that my first birthday in Missouri was so nice that, much like a child, I didn't want to go to sleep last night, simply because, even though my eyes were red and bleary, I didn't want the fun to end.

But alas, another day is here, and now that I have eaten cake for breakfast, spun my globe around several times, and read a few pages from my Kindle, I must continue unpacking the dozens of totes and boxes that are scattered across our new apartment...

Unusually Solemn Boys

"He came to me arrayed as for a mighty journey, and looking unusually solemn, as little boys always do look when they are wearing a great coat." 
     --J.M. Barrie, The Little White Bird

Happy Birthday...Oh! Wait! It's my birthday!

I can't write myself a birthday post. Why? Because that would be plain conceited. However, keeping in the tradition of birthday posts at Hannah J. Holmes, my mother kindly offered to write one for me, and so, without further ado, here is my sweet momma. :)

I grew up in an old fashioned neighborhood in an old fashioned sort of way. Dads went to work, and Moms stayed home, to take care of the house. Children played outside in the summer and started back to school in the fall.

My grandparents lived next door and an older couple across the street, but the rest of the houses had children, who could be found in any of the yards. We knew to listen for our Moms to call us at dinner time, not on cell phones but by stepping out the door and yelling our name.

One of the families had three daughters, and I liked all the daughters, but my favorite, the one my age, was the middle one. There was a problem, though, as the oldest daughter was the Mom's favorite and the youngest was the Dad's favorite. Where did this leave my friend, but out? I would want my friend to go places with me--one I remember in particular was to play miniature golf--but she wasn't allowed unless a sister could come along, too.

I decided I would never have three daughters.

Some things you don't have complete control over, though, and when I grew up and married and started having babies, daughter #1 arrived, and then a few years later #2.

I thought, "This is it," but much to my surprise, a few years later, #3 (Yup, that's me!) showed up. What I said would never happen...happened, and I am so thankful. God knew better than me what a wonderful blessing three daughters could be.

So, Happy Birthday, Hannah J. Holmes. I'm so glad God sent you to us!

Basically, I am one happy accident. And darn proud. :)

Books and boat shoes

Damian and I are in Mississippi this week, to collect the rest of our earthly possessions, because we officially move to Missouri on Saturday.

I am furiously packing, scrambling to cram all of our belongings into boxes and totes, but I noticed that, for some reason, I pack the things I love first, not because doing so is efficient or makes any logical sense but probably because I am drawn to these items. I know I need to pack sensible things, like plates and towels. Towels would definitely be nice, if I plan to shower in Missouri. Yet my first instinct is to run to my closet, fold all of my pretty dresses, and while doing so, stroke the silky material and daydream about all the date nights Damian and I will have in our new city. And after I finish packing my dresses, I move on to books and boat shoes.

Books and boat shoes. What more do I need?

Eating Off the Same Plate

I love to write, but I am the worst at thinking up titles, hence why my own blog's title is rather uninspired. I mean, seriously? My own name? I sure didn't have to look far to find that one. :)

My sister Lizzie, on the other hand, thought of a blog title with substance and meaning: "Eating Off the Same Plate." And though she recently shortened the name to the sharper, more direct, "The Same Plate", the concept remains the same.

Lizzie drew her title from a Filipino saying that describes how when you are with someone you love deeply, you often eat off the same plate. Lizzie also explains that she wants to have a deep, Christ-like love for humanity; she wants to be willing to share her plate with more than just her family and the people she already loves. You can read her story here.

*******

I love the symbolism in Lizzie's title, the idea that sharing food is one of the most profound ways that humans show love for each other.

And for my part, when I am with people I love, I find that I naturally eat off their plates. Damian and I sit close during meals, and when I see an especially juicy stuffed mushroom on his plate, my fork wanders over and plucks it up, or if I finish my mashed potatoes too soon and want some more, I generally take a few bites of his. Damian watches my plate as well and generally eats my tomatoes, which he knows I don't like anyway, or anything else that seems neglected or suits his fancy. I have noticed that we do the same in restaurants, though I like to think we are more subtle in public.

Oh, but just in case I sound too gooey and sweet, I'll go ahead and confess that I may be a bit territorial at times. When Damian comes in for the last bite of my hot fudge sundae, my hand shields the bowl and I declare, "Hey! That's mine!" And he does the same to me, when I decide that his last bit of steak looks to delicious to stay on his plate.


What do you think, dear readers? Do you ever eat off the same plate as your loved ones? Is the act almost instinctual, as a sign of intimacy or love? Do you ever get a bit annoyed when someone takes a certain piece of food?

Or does this whole concept just sound too weird? :)

Let me know. I'd love to hear what you have to say!

P.S. I'll share the second beater with you. (It hasn't been licked yet! I promise!)

(Photos, by Lizzie Holmes)

Monday Memory: A Brief Testimony

I don't often post about religion,  mostly because I have noticed that once bloggers start opening up about their beliefs, the wild rumpus begins (but not in a good way); the rumpus typically includes sour--and often plain rude--comments (from all parties involved). 

However, I decided to get over myself and push my petty fears of salty comments or a decreased readership out of the way, so I could tell you a little about my testimony. 

When my parents were missionaries in Suriname, my sister Lizzie realized I was not a Christian, and she was afraid if I died, I might go to hell.

I was four.

If you are a Christian, you know most of us do not believe God sends children to hell, perhaps because we believe God is love and we know children have a limited understanding of theology or perhaps because Jesus made clear that children are really, really special.

Anyways, Lizzie explained to me about Jesus and his sacrifice. She told me I needed to ask God to forgive my sins. (Lizzie grew up and became a missionary. Go figure).

We prayed, but I soon admitted I was confused. I was four, after all. All the same, Lizzie was disheartened.

******

A few days later, I crouched in the corner of the bathroom. I remember the cool tile against my bare back. (I was in a phase when I refused to wear clothes. Aren't you glad that's over?).

I sat, my tiny head buried in my knees, and I prayed "God, please, please forgive me."

I knew I had done bad things, that I occasionally lied to my mother. I knew that I feared monsters in the windowless hallway just outside the bathroom. I understood pain and fear: that by lying, I caused my mother pain, and that my fears controlled me, when I avoided the hallway.

I understood the world was flawed, and I wanted--needed--God to protect me.

Many Christians may be skeptical of the fact that I developed these understandings before kindergarten, but I believe God saved me that day, when I sat in the corner of the bathroom and prayed.

Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it. 
Mark 10:15


For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.
2 Timothy 1:7 

Blogging is like an action movie, sometimes.

Blogging with internet from a cell phone (plugged into your computer) is sort of like an action movie. Everything moves in slow motion and if you--the main character--make a wrong move?

You lose everything.

And that, my friends, is why my recent posts have been short and sweet.

Thanks to Paul the cable guy, however, Damian and I now have real internet at our new place, so my usual loquaciousness shall resume soon enough. :)

P.S. Photofunia.com is just too much fun.

Entertainment center

I think it's safe to say that Damian and I are in a transitional phase.

Blog Swap with Megan from meganshay.com

Lovely readers, exciting things are happening around Hannah J. Holmes. Here is a guest post from Megan Shay, and you can find a post by me at her web site meganshay.com. 

Welcome to the 9th 20-Something Bloggers Blog Swap! This is my first blog swap with the 20-Something Bloggers, and I'm so excited to be partnered with a fantastic blogger such as Hannah.

My name is Megan, and I blog semi-regularly at meganshay.com. I've been a fan of 20 Something Bloggers for quite some time, but I haven't been too motivated to get "in to" the blogging culture until recently! This is a great swap to get my feet wet, though.

So, the theme of this blog swap reminded me of so many back to school assignments, "What I Did on my Summer Vacation". Well guess what? I did plenty.You'll probably find it boring, but it was all new to me.

I moved to Utah back in September 2010, so this was my first summer in Utah. I'm hoping this doesn't come across as a commercial for the West -- but if you haven't visited the home of "The Greatest Snow on Earth" during the summer, you are truly missing out.

Coming from Michigan I'm used to beautiful summers, beautiful humidity-filled summers. I actually didn't know it was possible to have a heat index less than the actual temperature on the thermostat! But, my oh my, it's so nice not stepping foot outside and immediately being drenched in sweat.

Check out this picture taken in the middle of JUNE - the mountains around me were still covered in snow, while I was wearing shorts in 85 degree weather.

Anyways, my summer was filled with shopping in Park City and Gardner Village, plenty of work (thank goodness for air conditioned offices!), swimming like no other summer before, meeting new people (Utahns are a friendly bunch), one trip home for a family reunion and so much more. I can't believe the middle of August is already here. While I'm looking forward to some changing leaves on trees, I'm a bit sad this summer is coming to an end.

So bloggers out there, what made your summer unique?

But It's My Birthday Month!

Whenever I want something way out of budget, like a trip to Europe, or completely ridiculous, like a dozen paper parasols, Damian, my accountant, therapist, and life coach, kindly states...

"Uh, no."

I turn 23 at the end of August, though, so lately, I respond, "But it's my birthday month!"

Damian, however, doesn't seem to think that "my birthday month" is a good enough excuse for me to buy whatever I want.

Men!

(Photo by Jeffery Beggerly)

We're Moving! We're Moving! We're Moving!

Photo by Phineas H.

We are about to make a memory.

Damian and I are moving to Nixa, Missouri, which is right outside of Springfield. We will sleep on a borrowed air mattress for a while, because our bed is still in Mississippi, along with all of our other earthly possessions.

We didn't receive word that we got into our new apartment until we were well on our way to North Arkansas--which is a hop, skip, and jump away from Nixa--to visit my parents. Though we were tickled with glee that we got the place, I assure you we would have packed quite differently (meaning more than two outfits and a toothbrush) if we had known a new apartment was waiting on us. 

But we can't predict the future. And there was no telling with this one, because the apartment application was crazy: hours of paperwork every day for a week. 

Those corporate monsters (boy, do I sound bitter!) demand written proof that you make just enough money to pay your rent but that you are just poor enough that they can get an enormous tax break for helping out an unfortunate soul like you.

And if you are self-employed? Multiply the complications of this delicate balance by about one million or so.

They wanted our bank statements, our tax returns, our profit and loss records for last year, this year, and next year (yes, they expected fortune telling), signed explanations of irregularities in our income (of which there are many, since we are, you know, self employed), proof of life insurance policies, X-rays of all our vital organs, and the shoes off our feet and the shirt off our back. 

And you think I'm kidding. 

But hey! It's all worth it! Because we got the place! And now we have a microwave! And a dishwasher! And a washer and dryer! And two walk-in closets! And two bathrooms! And a balcony! And lots and lots of windows! And a swimming pool (that we share with about 200 other residents), but hey! A pool! That's awesome! 

Sorry for all the exclamation marks. (And I call myself a writer.) But hey! I'm excited! So, I'm not sorry! No more coin laundry! Yeah!!! Now to return to Mississippi to collect all our things, and then...

See you in Nixa!!!

Weekend roundup

You know how you browse the internet and find all kinds of interesting and hilarious information? (I'm pretty sure that's why internet addiction is not a myth). I also think that's why so many bloggers post weekly round ups: to keep track of all the fun.

And I, Hannah the Copy Cat, decided to follow suit (again), so here are my favorite discoveries, from the past two weeks...

Famous authors eat weird snacks.

A bit of comic relief regarding the Manchester Riots: the most rambunctious rioter of all.

If I lived in Amsterdam, I would go miles out of my way, only to use the subway with the slide.

Barbie and Ken finally got married? That was long overdue. And their wedding pictures are so cliche! ;)

That's all for now. :)

(Photo credit: me! That's "homemade" lettuce, from my parent's garden)

Wordless Wednesday: Don't Float Away, Lila!

P.S. Apparently, I love the concept of floating away with balloons. Also, I snag pictures from Cara's Facebook far too often. Hope she doesn't mind.

Lila Turns One.

There is typically an ongoing thread of Facebook messages between the Holmes girls (my mother, my two sisters, and me), because that way, Cara can steal a moment from changing diapers and calming avalanches of toys, to tell us a funny story about her kids; Lizzie can respond accordingly from her iPod touch, as she flies through the rain forest in the back of a truck; my mother can let us know how much she loves us, between her one hour commutes to an office job; and, as for me? Well, I'm a freelance writer and blogger, who works from home and virtually (get it?) lives on the internet, so I am not that hard to get a hold of and generally the first to reply.

But this post isn't about me. It's about Cara's daughter Lila, because today...

Lila turns one!

The first year of Lila's life slipped beneath my feet, and I feel as if she should still be a tiny newborn, not a borderline toddler...

But what, may you ask, do our social media habits have to do with Lila?

Well, I'll tell you what.

In honor of Lila becoming a Great, Grand One Year Old, I decided to share my favorite messages that Cara wrote, all about Lila...

"Lila woke up this morning looking bigger. She is growing so fast. Chuck gave her a comb to play with and said, 'Okay, Lila, comb your hair.'  And she did! It has been her favorite toy all day and yesterday. She even combed everyone's hair."

"We have discovered something new about Lila. She loves baby dolls. Chuck had her in Wal-Mart the other day and he cut across the doll aisle to save time and she went crazy, yelling 'More, more, more.' So, he got one off the shelf for her, and she hugged it, kissed it and rocked it. I have to say I am relieved to see that she can put down the dump trucks for a minute and rock her baby. It is pretty funny, though, because sometimes she holds the baby upside down, and when she gets tired of it, she always throws it. Chuck was playing with her and the game was first, she would kiss the baby. Then, she would throw it off the bed. Then Chuck would say, 'Lila don't throw your baby,' and hand it back to her. Then, she would hug it and throw it."

"I asked the boys what we should do for Lila's birthday, and Billy answered, 'All of her favorite things.'  So, then I asked him what that was, and he said, 'Oh, mostly crawling around on the floor and eating trash.' He was really quiet for a minute and said, 'Hm... maybe we shouldn't do Lila's favorite things.'"

Happy Birthday, Little Lila. I can't wait to see you again, when you come back to America in a year. By that time, you shall doubtlessly be a chatterbox, and I shall buy you ballet slippers and tutus and listen closely to all the silly, wonderful things you say, you sweet little niece of mine :)

I love you Lila, always and forever.

(Photos by Chuck and Cara and edited by me) 

Monday Memory: College Was Nothing Like High School

When I was a senior in high school, my history teacher made me a mixed CD. That wasn't weird, though. He made a mixed CD for any student who asked. Okay, maybe that was a little weird.

Hey, Mr. Foo Fighters, remember me? (Well, actually, I changed his name, in case you didn't notice).

Anyways, Mr. Foo Fighter's mixed tapes were all kinds of awesome: Weezer, The Killers, Burlap to Cashmere, Techno...Celine Dion? Yes, please!

Oh, don't act all coy. If you had the chance, you would have asked him for a mixed CD, too. You only wish your high school history teacher was as cool as mine.

He even let us watch Futurama in class. Yes, Futurama.

Originally, the episodes related to his lessons, but if you show a hilarious cartoon to a room full of teenagers who live in an itty bitty country in South America and who are, therefore, deprived of full doses of American media, then they will inevitably ask--beg even-- for more. And if you are a 22 year old, fresh-from-college history teacher who hasn't quite mastered the art of the Mean Face, you will probably say, "Okay, sure..."

*******

You can imagine my shock (and horror!) when I started college, and my history professors never (not once!) presented us with mixed CDs and never (not once!) let us watch Futurama during class.

As a result, I couldn't remember why I chose to study history in the first place. I considered changing my major on multiple occasions but finally decided that I was in this for the long haul.

You see, I was holding out for the big moment when Dr. Beethoven (another name change; aren't I clever?) would yell  "Psyche!", the disco ball would fall from the ceiling, confetti would pour all around, and we would all clink glasses (of sparkling apple juice, of course, as this was a private, religious institution) and my professors would simultaneously declare, "This is what history is really about!"

Then we would all bust a move to Celine Dion's technofied To Love You More. 


Yeah, all that? That never happened. And the reality didn't sink in until the moment I walked across the stage and shook hands with the college president, as I accepted my diploma.

Oh, well, at least I have a degree in English and history.

That'll come in handy.

P.S. Congratulations to our giveaway winner, Bethany G., who was chosen by Mr. Random Generator, and many thanks to everyone who entered. Be sure and stay tuned for the next contest! Also, Lauren has extended the coupon code HANNAH for 20% off in her shop, until Friday. Happy shopping! 

(Photo via The Obsessive Compulsive Music Disorder)

Dr. Pepper, A Peace Offering

So, my husband and I were fighting. (Oh, don't act all shocked; if you've got one, you fight with him. The only difference is that you probably don't blog about it).

We were fighting over a calculator...

or the lack thereof.

Yeah, our fights are really intellectually stimulating: Does the calculator exist or is it merely a representation of our sub...

Okay, no, that's not what we were discussing.

And while I won't air our dirty laundry by giving you the gory details, I will say that I stomped off to the Dollar General to buy a calculator, which cost me a painful $3.98. (Anyone else remember the days of $1 school supplies?)

On my way out, I also picked up a $3 copy of the Nanny Diaries and a Dr. Pepper.

Then, I remembered that Damian also likes Dr. Pepper, and I realized that he was probably just as thirsty and  hot as I was.

But I am mad at him, so I won't buy him one, I thought.

And then, in a moment of clarity, I decided that maybe, just maybe, if I bring him a Dr. Pepper, all shall be well again.

And I was right.

As soon as I arrived home and placed the Dr. Pepper (and calculator) by his side, Damian gave me an enormous hug and we were both so happy.

Making up is so sweet.

(Image via Beverage Review)

Monday Memory: Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust

I was once obsessed with Disney's Peter Pan; in fact, my sister Lizzie is still bitter about how annoying it was to constantly have Peter Pan on repeat, in the days before Ipods, when my chubby, four year old fingers manually put the VHS in the VCR  over and over and over.

You see, I watched the film so often that my family may have subconsciously memorized the entire script, and they probably had "You Can Fly" stuck in their heads on a regular basis.

My Peter Pan phase lasted a rather long time, perhaps from when I was two until I was five and on into high school, but at that point, in the form of J.M. Barrie's novels. (I even developed a pretentious aversion to the Disney movie, which I felt was too cheerful in nature and did not pay homage to the dark and haunting elements of the novel). 

These days, I like both versions but appreciate each differently :) 

Anyways. 

From a young age, Peter Pan shaped me in interesting ways. (I could probably write a book about that, but for today, I shall simply tell you a little story). 

In the film, Peter teaches Wendy, John, and Michael that one can fly by thinking happy thoughts.

I applied this principle to my own life.

No, this is not metaphorical.

At the age of four, I spent many afternoons atop the coffee table, with my eyes shut tight, as I imagined ice cream or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and I counted "1,2,3..."

Jump!

But alas, I always landed promptly on the ground (usually on my feet, thankfully).

And if you've seen Peter Pan as many times as I have, you know that when Wendy, John, and Michael first take the leap, they also plummet (but conveniently land on a bed). You see, their aviation teacher forgot the most important ingredient for a successful flight: pixie dust.

I eventually realized that I, much like Peter, forgot about the pixie dust. But I also realized that I'd never met a pixie.

And sadly, Peter Pan never came to my window with one in tow.

As such, thus far, my life has been flight free (save for the unimpressive kind that is accomplished with the aid of an aeroplane :)

P.S. Don't forget to enter the giveaway. Unless, of course, you don't like pretty things. Then don't bother ;)

Enter to win a handcrafted rosette accessory

In celebration of reaching over a hundred followers (you guys are the bee's knees, by the way), I am hosting my first giveaway with Lauren from Seek First. Lauren is one passionate lady, who devotes herself to Christ, cancer research, and...crafting :). Lauren creates beautiful, one-of-a-kind rosette accessories, including headbands and necklaces. Today, she is offering one lucky Hannah J. Holmes reader a $15 credit in her shop.

To enter, you must....

• Be or become a public follower of Hannah J. Holmes on Google Friend Connect
• Visit Lauren's shop and leave a comment below
• Be a U.S. resident. (Wish we could send this giveaway across the world, but postage is way overpriced, you guys!).

For extra entries...

• Follow the Seek First Blog 
• Follow Lauren on Twitter 
• Follow Hannah J. Holmes on Twitter
• Like Hannah J. Holmes on Facebook

Be sure and leave an additional comment for each extra entry, so that Mr. Random Generator recognizes your efforts. 

Sadly, not everyone can be a winner. I know, I know. Life is so unfair. But Lauren is kindly offering a little something to all Hannah J. Holmes readers, and so, for the next week, you may use the coupon code HANNAH for a 20% discount.

Lauren is truly a sweet, sweet lady, and I hope you take this opportunity to visit her blog and learn more about who she is and what she believes. Here is a little note from Lauren herself, to help you know her better:

Hello!  My name is Lauren Battershell, and I am a lover and follower

of Jesus. I am also a crafty DIY thrift-a-holic, wife, blogger, and

cancer researcher. I love crafting and sharing my adventures along the

way on my blog...where you can see my perspective on life, faith,

love, marriage, and crafts. I married my best friend last December,

and am so honored to call him my husband!

I started crafting as a creative outlet from research (I love science,

but a girl needs some frills), and my shop has come out of the

abundance of my love to craft. It is now my way to fund raise for

going back to school.

Isn't she lovely? 

Before you go, here's the final scoop: Giveaway closes on Saturday August 6, 2011. Winner will be contacted via email the following Monday (so if you don't have a blog or public profile that includes contact information, please leave your email address in a comment below, thanks!).

As always, thank you for reading Hannah J. Holmes, and I wish you the best of luck in our (very first!) giveaway. 

P.S. Monday Memories post coming up this evening. 


Update: This giveaway is now closed. Congrats to Bethany G.!