" I was looking in the car window and I saw my hair.  And it's the coolest hair in middle school.  I never noticed that until today."

- Ethan Rehrig, age 13

Currently Listening Eyes Open By Snow Patrol see related

My sister became a Starbucks fan long before I did.  I think it is because she had money sooner and picked up on the alone time it provided.  My first Starbucks drink was in fact in a foreign country and since that time, six years ago, I have now logged Starbucks hours in three continents and six countries.  In Beijing, we were a twenty minute taxi ride away from Little America.  There is just something about a Starbucks; they're exactly the same, if not better, in other countries.  Unlike McDonalds, they don't cater to the host culture by offering seaweed encrusted coffee beans or taro root frappachinos.  They cross the borders and come out unscathed.  It's because of this, that almost every weekend outing into Beijing included a jaunt by the local Starbucks.

Well, moving to Kansas, Oklahoma caused me to have to break my coffee drinking traditions and to have to settle for the freshly ground and brewed kind coming out of my own kitchen.  It has sufficed for the time being.  But the absence of the coffee house culture has been bearing down on me.  I've been lonely for a place of solitary enjoyment, a place that a single person can go, sit, read, and drink coffee for hours without being stared at or pitied for what looks to be an absence of a partner.  I've longed for a spot to get refreshment and hang out with friends around a competitive game of Euker or stimulating debate on the changing face of Christianity. 

There is something about a Starbucks that conjures up warm memories of comradarie and comfort, laughing and crying and sharing intimate moments with just myself or friends.  It reminds me of the study breaks my Japanese friends and I took the summer I did my stint in tutoring and the lazy Saturdays that I would spend hanging out at the park, reading a good book or indulging in a four-pump caramel macchioto on my way to a movie or a group event.  I think of all the times I've sat in Starbucks because I just needed to get away, only to have my phone ring ten minutes later and a concerned friend join me for a good talk.

This weekend, I discovered to my joy and amazement a coffee house in the nearby town of Siloam Springs.  I had driven past it on numerous occasions, but rarely before it's 6:00 closing hour.  However, I made a date with myself on this particular Saturday to make the drive in and check out the validity of the facility.  I loved it.  It's not Starbucks, but the next best thing.  It's full of coffee smelling sweetness, warm colors, dark woods and soulful melodies.  It's the perfect setting for my next set of coffee house memories. 

Currently Reading Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith By Rob Bell see related

So, lately I've been

planning high school pep rallies....

 decorating and entertaining in my new home....

participating in wild and wacky School Spirit Days.....

and working on my tough side....

Currently Listening Story Like a Scar By The New Amsterdams see related

About three years ago, after months of begging and pleading by my little brothers, my family became the owners of a black cat named Samson.  I've never been a cat person so I had my reservations, but I ended up liking him.  I guess his aloofness won me over, I'm not much of a cuddler when it comes to animals. 

Well, sadness overcame me when my older sister (who never like Samson, I might add) announced to me this summer that the cat had been run over a few weeks prior.  My parents hadn't told me yet, as I was still overseas and I guess they thought I'd figure it out when I got home.

Ever since that day, my siblings have been in a constant state of want for a new feline friend.  My parents gave in when it just so happened that Samson's sister had a couple of kittens.  The problem was, they were in Edmond.  Luckily, I had scheduled a trip to my hometown and therefore became the designated picker-upper of the kittens.  We got two.  One for my family and one for me.

My brothers and sister were immediately drawn to the blue-eyed, siamese-looking little boy leaving me with the smaller, black haired baby sister.  I was ok with that.  She was cute.  Without much hesitation, I named her Xiao Mei (meaning Little Beauty) and began lessons on Chinese tones to anyone who would listen.

Xiao Mei's brother did not fair as well in the name area, however, as the remaining six Rehrigs could not even begin to agree on a suitable name that everyone liked.  My mom wanted food names, the kids wanted something cool or funny...like "your mama" (hey, where's your mama?) and my dad just wanted to be obnoxious ("ok, I'm going to turn on the tv and the first word we hear will be his name..."  It didn't work.)

The kids finally settled on the name Hudson...after Hudson Taylor, the great worker in China (I think I may have influenced them a little on this one) and started calling him that constantly.  But my mom refused!  Not just a little "sorry, I don't like it" refusal but a full blown, stubborn as all "I will not call that cat Hudson" refusal.  So, my dad took her side and started calling him Blue. 

The poor kitty had no idea what was going on or this identity crisis he was going through. 

This went on for a couple days, when I finally came to the rescue and stopped the madness by suggesting they name him Hudson Blue.  Everyone conceded and they all lived happily ever after.

The moral of the story is...

Currently Listening Between The Bridges By Sloan see related

 I'm in an in-between stage of my life.  I've ended a chapter and now sit staring at a blank page wondering what the next one will hold. 

I've tried a lot of things in my 28 years on this earth.  I've been a student, a waitress, a receptionist, a house cleaner, an office worker, a secretary, a tutor, a teacher, hardware clerk and a daycare worker.  I've traveled the world, visited eleven different countries and attempted two different languages.  I've studied math, geography, history, science, computers, paper making, pottery, weaving, and silk screen.  I've made friends with Chinese business men, Japanese exchange students, Cambodian motorbike drivers, Afghan grounds keepers, and Kenya soccer players. 

I've lived a full and happy life.

In some respects I feel old.  I feel my days of youth are over; there will be no more bumming around the world, no more meeting strangers in foreign countries, no more running to find my self and explore the universe. 

On the other hand, my life has just begun.  Statistically, I've only lived a third of my years.  Who knows what adventure the future may hold for me.  Right now, I'm debating between becoming a rock star groupy or opening a gourmet coffee shop and catering business.  Since financial security is more likely in a money making venture then it is following a tattoo-covered, bass playing, beer drinking musician around the country, I'm looking more to the later option.

And I never know where the road will lead me.  Today Kansas, Oklahoma...tomorrow Bhutan.  Just as the page of my next chapter stares blankly up at me so do the newly expanded pages of my passport.  You know, I still have five more continents to make my appearance on.