Rockin', thankin' and GBC

I never eat turkey on Thanksgiving.

For some reason, I just really don't like Thanksgiving turkey. I prefer the processed kind that you can get at Subway or the grocery store. I'm sure it's a lot healthier for you, too.

I wonder why they didn't eat a chicken on the first Thanksgiving feast. I'll bet it wouldn't take as long to cook—or maybe Chick-fil-A could cater! Then you wouldn't even have to worry about carving a big bird or dealing with that nasty gravy. That's why they invented Chick-fil-A Sauce.

To be honest, there is really only one dish that I absolutely have to have on the holiday that Charlie Brown and his gang know how to celebrate in style: green bean casserole. It's weird, because I don't like the thought of cream of mushroom soup (eww!), and I really hate onions, but those fried onions that top it off are almost the best part (nothing beats the cheese, of course). Plus, I'm

pretty sure they are completely beneficial to your health.

My cousin Rachel made a delicious GBC (as it shall be called from this point forward) on Thanksgiving Day, and then my mo

m made her usual stellar rendition the next day. (Actually, my sister did most of the work this time around, and she kind of yelled at me when I suggested she use a bit more of the fried onions. She said I should come over there and make it if I was going to be picky. I think we both knew that was a bad idea.) Two days in a row of GBC? Beautiful. Of course, it's always best topped off with ketchup and scooped up with Wheat Thins.

On another note, I attended the Turkey Trot this year, which is not something I usually do. I'm not a huge fan of the massive crowds and the people who get near the front of the start line and then walk with their dogs or strollers while people trying to run have to weave in and out of them. But, this year I was dressed as a rock star (note: not all inflatable guitars can handle a bike pump), helping a friend with a promotion while running and not racing. I ran about three miles in the race, turned around and then did two on my own. It was a fun morning, especially because I was with such amazing people.

One of the craziest things happened when LizRaz and I were in the parking lot waiting for everyone in our rocker gang to arrive. We got there almost an hour before our call time of 7 a.m., so we had a lot of time of sitting in my car and LizRaz finishing the final touches of her costume. She was standing in the lot, and it was probably 60 or 70-something degrees. In the mere matter of a second—I'm not even joking about this—the temperature plummeted to 30 or 40-something. It was ridiculous! The rest of the morning was super cold, but it was crazy how quickly it changed.

Even though I don't appreciate anything with a gizzard on this holiday, it's one of my favorites—I love getting to spend time with family and friends and being reminded of the things for which I am most thankful, like football (among all of the other blessings in life, of course).

An underrated desk dweller

I think Wite-Out represents a lot more than just simple correction fluid.

It is a parallel substance to the way we live our lives.

I mean, think about it: absolutely no one is perfect, and there are so many times in life where we would like to go back and correct things. Sometimes we just scribble through the mess and keep going, while other times we try to back track and erase what's been done. (On a side note, I am slightly uncomfortable with the spelling of this product. I really wish it were spelled like the color instead of dropping the letter h. I suppose you could just buy a knockoff brand like the one I have sitting on my desk right now, appropriately called "Liquid Paper.")

Anyway, back to my point (assuming I have a valid one to make): Wite-Out brings with it true symbolism into our everyday lives. I'm going to try to sound sane when I say this, but Wite-Out always makes me think of the love of Jesus Christ.

If you ponder it for a bit, it makes sense. Whenever we ask forgiveness from our Savior, He wipes our slate clean and uses his own version of Wite-Out to make us white again. We are clean and get another chance. I'm sure you've noticed that you can always tell when a person uses corrective liquid—there is that splotchy, discolored area on the paper where it's obvious perfection was not involved. Similarly, when we sin, there are often lasting consequences that leave lasting marks and scars in our lives, but we are still forgiven. We are still allowed to write over that splotchy area where mistakes once superabounded.

When we avoid using Wite-Out and just scribble out what we originally wrote, it usually looks messier and like we didn't care to make our work more presentable. When we try to scratch things out in life without letting God white it out for us with forgiveness, we typically create bigger messes than we had before—just like your uglified (it's OK to make up words on occasion) paper.

I understand that most people type things nowadays, but you can still have a messed up paper without Wite-Out. I know I've been in situations where I was about to turn in an essay and saw a typo of some sort. You have two choices (since you can't go reprint it right that moment): 1. Scratch out what you typed and use a pen to make the correction. 2. Utilize the wonder that is Wite-Out.

Just make sure you let it sit a few moments to allow the liquid to dry before you try writing over it. After all, impatience will just make more of a mess of everything—just like in life.

Risky business

It turns out I am both a daredevil and a pansy.

There are some aspects of my life where I am willing to take big risks. For instance, this morning when I was running, I crossed the street at a stoplight intersection when a cop might consider it jaywalking. Some cars to my right were actually going at a pretty fast speed, and I barely missed getting hit.

I do similar things when I'm driving all the time. I won't even debate for very long in my head if there is enough time to make it through an intersection—I just go for it.

Yesterday, one of my students was nervous about having to go get an interview with a coach and wanted to take a friend with her. I made her go all by herself, and she kept hesitating to leave the room and was practicing what she was going to say to him. I finally said something along the lines of, "It's like you keep dipping your toe in cold water, when really all you need to do is dive in there. So dive!"

In that moment, I started thinking to myself, "How often do I actually follow that advice? And when should I not?"

I feel like there are so many areas in my life where I am such a chicken and just way too afraid to take risks. For starters, there is the obvious scenario when I walk or run anywhere where there is the potential to see a fr**. Sometimes I will even run clear to the other side of a street if I see a bump or formation in the road that appears to be one. (Usually it's just a leaf or a rock, but that's beside the point.) I play it way cautiously.

For some reason, I'm the same way when it comes to guys. I remember this one time in high school when I was walking down an empty hall, and a guy I had a crush on was walking the opposite way toward me. I got really nervous and didn't know what to do. I wanted to avoid having to say "hi" or awkwardly walking past him without saying anything, so I did what I thought was the smartest thing: found the nearest escape route. I dodged into the first classroom I could, which happened to be a science class full of seniors (I was a sophomore at the time). The teacher was in the middle of giving a lecture, so everything stopped, and all eyes were on me. I just stood against the door and said, "It's OK—I will only be in here a few seconds." When I knew the boy was gone, I left the room and proceeded to my original destination.

Coward.

I take a lot of risks—not just in running and driving. But, there are just some parts of my life where I am worse than that wimpy lion in "The Wizard of Oz."

I think the bottom line is that it all comes down to trust. I have to be willing to leave it all in God's hands when I do take those big risks, because He's the one with the ultimate plan who will make whatever is supposed to happen actually happen.

Thank goodness for that—I definitely shouldn't be the one calling the shots!

"Toy Story" sorrow

I never thought I could have such a sad experience in a frozen yogurt store.

My good friend Kebbers and I met yesterday afternoon for froyo, which is normally a time of undaunted happiness. I mean, it started off that way yesterday, as well, but we were not anticipating the sorrow that still remained to befall us in such a quaint little venue.

From our entrance, we noticed "Toy Story 3" playing on the television in the corner. Most of the time some movie or Disney show is on, and I generally don't pay much attention to it. I love the "Toy Story" series and haven't seen the final one, so I glanced over multiple times during our conversation, even though I could tell it was probably close to the end.

This was a bad decision on my part.

*NOTE: SPOILER ALERT!

So, we continue chatting until I notice some boxes on the screen as Andy is getting ready to go to college. Woody jumps out of his box and runs over to another and starts writing something on a Post-It note. He sees that Andy is coming, so the camera focuses on Andy, and the audience doesn't see if Woody went back to the box labeled "college" or if he hopped into the one being donated, which contains all of his friends.

My heart stopped.

Sure, I don't want Woody to part from Buzz and the rest of the gang, but I also don't want him to be eternally separated from his best friend forever. This was obviously an emotionally climactic point for me—I'm not sure the little tots in there understood what exactly was happening. By "what exactly," I mean the disastrous events that left me feeling despondent and almost without hope.

Friends, Woody went with the toys. When Andy found him in the box and realized he was going to have to leave him behind, I didn't know what to do. I was trying so hard to be brave. Kebbers knew the pain I was feeling.

"Don't you dare break your no-cry streak!" she cautioned.

No worries—I didn't let my eyes leak. But it surely was a close call.

I told Kebbers that I would never be able to give up Tie, my trusty koala without whom I cannot sleep. Seriously. (I once turned around and drove back home to get him once when I was spending the night at my parents' house, which is about 30 miles away, because I left him at my apartment. I was one exit away from where they live.) Anyway, Kebbers noted that Tie doesn't have any friends. Good point, but it was still a rough time for me in that froyo moment.

I still can't believe that Woody is forever separated from Andy. Kebbers even tried to tell me that there was an alternative ending, but I know the reality of the situation.

My sorrow goes to infinity...and beyond.

A Texas-sized dilemma

Never give up hope.

This is really difficult for me to say right now, especially with the way things are going in life. I mean, yes, I have been predicting a World Series win since spring training, but things are not exactly panning out as planned.

In fact, things are looking rather grim. I HATE saying this. In fact, I'm feeling some heart pain right now.

It's a do-or-die situation for us now. Win three in a row, two of which have to be on the road. I suppose I could say stranger things have happened.

Sometimes, in certain aspects of life, I have this theory that if you don't get your hopes up about something, you can never be let down. Sure, it might sound pessimistic, but it's really not as bad as it sounds. I try not to have this attitude in regards to my sports teams, though.

I'm holding on to this thread of hope...