Thirty.

It’s been said a hundred times: Thirty seems SO OLD until you get here.

If I think about where my mom was at thirty, or even where I assumed I’d be, my life seems totally off track. I always figured I’d be married, be done having kids and totally have the hang of running a household. At 24, I was well on my way, and then I essentially decided to start over. I could easily be allowing myself to have a nervous breakdown today because of how far away from those goals I am now.

However, I refuse. I am not old. I am not even halfway done living. And while I may not be married, I may not even reach my new goal of done having kids by 35 and my house is a mess 90% of the time, I have so much that I didn’t even realize was important.

Getting off track has really forced me to figure out who I am. I’m more confident in myself than I have been since I was a kid. I have deeper, more meaningful friendships. I’m living in such a way that I won’t have to look back in two years with a heart full of regret. I’m constantly self-aware and looking for ways to improve. I’m eating healthier. I’m spending more time on my faith. I’m living in the city I love. I can finance multiple vacations in one year without going into debt. I’m more compassionate.

During our girls’ trip this summer, Erin pointed out that THIS is the time when good things are happening. Three of my friends have just gotten dream jobs. A few more are getting married, and I believe they will reap rewards from waiting a little longer past college. And yes, some of my friends have one or two kids and are flourishing as moms. I know it will happen for me.

Why on earth do we think we have to have it all figured out before we hit thirty? If your twenties are all about finding yourself, then your thirties are all about being your awesome self.

So to everyone who’s about to join me in the fourth decade of life (okay, typing that was a mistake, it sounds horrible), get ready. Thirty is not the new twenty. It’s better.

Note: Did I write this entire post in an effort to avoid that nervous  breakdown? Possibly. At least I know myself well enough to know I needed to.  

The Path of Most Resistance

Nobody said it was easy / No one ever said it would be this hard
-Coldplay

My first night in St. Louis included a 2 am wake-up call by tornado sirens. Huddled in my 5’10” basement, I watched as water seeped in and puddled on the floor. Tears welled up in my eyes. I hate tornadoes, and this was hard. Two hours later, I woke up again to the sound of hail hitting my already rattling windows.

A couple of days later, after my landlord finally installed my dryer, I was relieved to catch up on laundry. I had gotten all caught up before moving my first load to the new apartment, and after more than two weeks, I was out of everything. I ran down to pull out my towels and discovered … they hadn’t dried at all. My landlord came back and realized that the gas line wasn’t hooked up. The next time I used it, it was leaking gas. Over the next several uses, I learned that only one setting actually has heat, and it doesn’t shut off automatically. I should mention this all spanned about three weeks. To date, I haven’t gotten totally caught up. I don’t mind doing laundry, but this is hard.

When we tried to install my cabinet shelves, they didn’t all fit. The first time I used my dishwasher, it didn’t drain all the way. My antique lock broke, and I locked myself out overnight. My bathroom mirror was up so high, I could only see from my chin up. The first time I used my oven, it set off the smoke alarm. I loved the idea of a newly renovated apartment, but this was hard.

Once I learned to sleep through the rattling of my bedroom windows and the traffic on my street (which had appeared desolate when we first viewed the place), I was awakened by a whole new set of noises. Creaks, pops and groans seemed to echo through my house at random, all night. By the time I realized it was caused by the heating duct work of two apartments snaking across my basement ceiling, I had worked myself up to the point where I was lucky if I got five hours of uninterrupted sleep. Sleep had become stressful. Even knowing it was the heater, and that the noises were worst right after the heater turned off, every noise sounded like someone was in my back stairwell.

I sat on my bed and had Jeremie open and close both the front and the back door so I’d know what it sounded like. It sounded nothing like the noises at night. I slept about three hours that night. After waking up every hour the next night, I called Jeremie at 3:45 am, desperate for any distraction. He remarkably woke up, even though he’s the heaviest sleeper I know. Fifteen minutes into our phone call, someone tried to break into his house. I’m not even kidding. He heard two loud bangs on his front door, his dog went crazy, and he called the cops. Nothing else happened, but the next day we saw two muddy kick marks on his door.

I’ve wanted – so badly – for YEARS – to live in St. Louis. But man, this is freaking hard.

I finally said out loud what I’d been embarrassed to admit. When I lie in bed and hear those noises, even though I know it’s just the heater, my tired mind goes to ridiculous places. Here’s some example dialogue: I wonder why the last lady moved out of this apartment after 20 years. Maybe she died. Maybe she died in this apartment. Maybe she was murdered. Maybe that’s why my landlord renovated. Maybe she doesn’t like that I’m living here.

In case you’ve ever had thoughts like that, try telling them to someone else. Their reaction will help you realize how preposterous you sound. Those thoughts out of my head, my parents came to visit. They had several suggestions and ultimately loaned me a noisy fan. Finally, I’ve slept through a couple of nights now and I’m hoping I’m over it.

They say it’s not worth having if it’s easy. They say good things come to those who wait.

I could have chosen not to get a divorce. Say what you will about whether it was the right decision or not, but I definitely chose the hard way.

I could have skipped DivorceCare, but I wouldn’t have learned anything from my mistakes. I could have rushed into marriage with the first viable candidate and been past all of this a long time ago, but I would have ended up exactly where I started.

I could have stayed in Jeff City, but my life would have been stagnant. I could have looked at apartments in the suburbs, but that would have been giving in to fear. I could have moved in with Jeremie, sacrificing everything I’ve been trying to build within myself for the past two years. I chose the hard way.  

I believe that when you push yourself, you grow. When you choose the hard way, you learn more about yourself. When you deal with difficulty, you become more confident in your abilities.

When I started considering changing my life, I remember thinking that just thinking about it was hard. I had no idea what was ahead of me. I know I am changing. I am growing, and I am a different person than I was. I’m choosing to do things on my own. I’m making the life I want. Not because it is easy, but because it is hard.

11 in '11

Well, we’ve reached mid-December, and I’ve blogged about maybe two of my trips this year. Instead of beat myself up about it, or pretend I actually have any illusions of actually writing an entire blog for any of my trips, I’m going to make a list. I like lists, so it’s a win-win.

My Top 11 Events from 2011 (in somewhat chronological order)

11. My New Year’s resolution was peace, love and happiness. I was still battling a lot of demons, so I enrolled myself in DivorceCare at The Crossing. I went in hoping for some closure. I may have come out with more questions than I started with, but at least I felt like I knew the right questions, finally. I made a lot of progress toward forgiving myself. And I think I have a really good grasp on what it takes to make marriage work, because it’s far too sad and cynical to think that I’d never get married again.

10. I traded in the late-March snowstorm in Missouri for sunny San Diego for the Team USA Training Camp. I blogged all about this here, but the highlights include riding around a gorgeous golf course in perfect weather, hanging out the back of a van on a bike trail and, of course, falling in love with the athletes who would represent the USA at World Games.

9. Kimmie, Erin and I set out on the first road trip of the year for Annaleigh’s bachelorette party. Erin got hit on by a 90-year-old man, I conquered my fear of driving across the Lake Ponchartrain bridge and we didn’t even get lost. Um, let’s see, what is printable about the actual party? Well, we ate a lot of good food. And we danced a LOT. And we laughed more than we danced. There was Lady Gaga and a beach bar and sunburns and street art and beads and champagne and frozen drinks. It was kind of everything you’d expect if you’ve met Annaleigh and ever been to New Orleans and/or a bachelorette party. (Except the only stripper in the hotel was actually trying to break into our room. We didn’t hire him. I promise.)

8. Erin, Eric, Jeremie and I set out for Alabama for Annaleigh’s wedding a few weeks later. We made the requisite stop at Lambert’s and then talked about nothing but Hunger Games until we gorged ourselves at the first seafood joint we could find. Then we arrived at the Craft house, which happens to be right out of a movie set: big white colonial right on Dog River surrounded by droopy trees. Annaleigh continued to prove that everything she’d ever told us was, in fact, true. We reunited with our Alabama BFFs and the girls headed to a nail salon, where we munched on chips and sipped beer. The rehearsal dinner was delicious and picturesque, and I got to ride on Bob’s boat back to the house. Then we all went to Meghan’s where we played beer pong and proved that Mobile is not better than The World. (Seriously, beer at the nail salon and beer pong the night before your wedding? There is NO ONE in the world like my Annaleigh. J) The morning of the wedding, we watched the coverage of William and Kate while we got our hair and makeup done. The 13 bridesmaids were all soft and lovely in their dresses, and Annaleigh made us all cry when she came out in her dress. The wedding went off as planned, I gave a compelling reading from Genesis 2, and Annaleigh got married – just like I always knew she would. The weather was perfect for the backyard reception, where the wedding party made the grandest of entries on a yacht. We ate delicious Southern comfort food (I’m thinking I should blame the 2011 brides for my inability to lose weight this year) and drank from mason jars. We danced harder than maybe I’ve ever danced in my life. We threw dynamite in the river. And then, when the reception was over, we walked downtown – Annaleigh still in her wedding dress – and danced some more.  

 

7. I made a ton of trips to St. Louis this year, but none were more memorable than for the nuptials of the city’s most-missed couple: Erin and Eric. They had inadvertently set their date on the day of rapture, so that almost ruined everything, but luckily that guy turned out to just be a kook. This ceremony goes down as the least-traditional wedding I’ve ever witnessed, and every detail screamed Erin, right down to the squashed penny on the program. Annaleigh officiated, and there were readings from both Hemingway and Where the Wild Things Are. Erin was stunning and so relaxed, and she never even had to grasp at her throat for air. If I thought my friends brought the party to the dance floor in Alabama, we were matched by the rest of Erin and Eric’s guests, including his adorable grandpa. It was one of the happiest, biggest celebrations I’ve been a part of.

 

 

6. In June, I headed to Baltimore to depart for Special Olympics World Games. I blogged about the entire experience on the SOMO website, so I’ll just share the outtakes here. After an excited Sendoff, we filled the international terminal at BWI, where games of Uno and beach ball broke out. TSA probably would have been horrified under any other circumstances. Once we finally boarded our two planes, it was a pretty uneventful flight to our refueling stop in Ireland. I think everyone stayed awake during the last leg of our trip, and nearly every announcement was met with an enthusiastic “USA! USA! USA!”

We arrived in the Isle of Rhodes, where the local law enforcement promptly confiscated our passports. We got them back the next day, but it was still a little unsettling. Michele and I set up in our suite, only to discover abundant issues with getting online. We finally got that situation mostly figured out, after basically rearranging all of the furniture. I’m sure the maids hated us. Other things about Rhodes: you can’t flush the toilet paper, we bought the wrong kind of electrical converters, there are no guardrails, pedestrians never have the right-of-way, a desert does not make for a good golf course, and it is a terrible idea to pack 600 Special Olympics athletes into a seaside discothèque. All part of international travel, I guess. But man, it was gorgeous.

After a few days of training, we took a 16-hour overnight boat ride to Athens. I am pretty sure by the time we got to the other side of the Aegean Sea, nearly everyone would have offered to shell out the extra $100 or so it would have cost to get a plane ticket instead!

The Opening Ceremony was incredible. There’s nothing on Earth like walking into a stadium full of people cheering for you, and seeing the athletes’ faces light up in awe was probably one of the most emotional moments of my life. It all felt like slow motion. The trip out of OC, however, was not so delightful, and I actually feared that someone would be trampled. If Greeks are one thing, organized is not it.

Back at the hotel the next morning, Michele and I were relieved to learn we had a driver and interpreter to split between the two of us. However, the hotel would not clear him to drive up to the front door, so we had to walk down the drive past the gate. It was hot, so we were ready to enjoy a nice mist from the sprinklers, when suddenly we realized … they were irrigating their lawn with recycled sewer water. You have never seen two PR ladies loaded down with cameras run across a parking lot so fast! After a long, exhausting run-around trying to get our media credentials, we were pretty much deflated, so our interpreter took us to a Greek fast-food place, where we had heavenly gyros. Eventually, they stopped caring about media credentials, which made that first day all the more frustrating. The rest of the time there, we at “cheese rolls” which are basically a buttered hoagie loaf with one long piece of cheese. If you were lucky, there was also a slice of meat. The bocce team started hoarding lunchmeat from their hotel to take to the venue. I resolved to never complain about a SOMO turkey sandwich again.

Needless to say, between the long hours, long commutes and sketchy internet connections, I wasn’t getting much sleep. Our room only included one bed and one cot, and I knew I’d be sleeping hard, so I took the cot. Which was fine, except for the occasional collapse that startled me awake. I was happy if I  got four hours, so I used the time in the van to catch a few extra minutes when I could. I became very good at falling asleep the moment the motor started, or, as I like to call it, carcolepsy. I worried that I was becoming so conditioned to this that I’d never be able to drive myself anywhere again, but luckily I reverted back.

Greek people really like to argue. Or converse loudly with angry faces and lots of exaggerated arm gestures. It stressed Michele and me out, but they kept saying it was normal. The craziest was one day when our driver, Dimitris, was trying to get us to the softball and cycling venue. We arrived at the gate and he was told he had to drop us off there (basically like two arena-sized parking lots away). I was on the phone with a reporter, and Michele insisted we could walk. Dimitris said no, then continued to argue with the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper slid the van door open, so we got out. Dimitris motioned for us to get back in, then made a phone call. Our interpreter, Andreas, screamed into view on his moped, then joined the loud talking with arm gestures. Michele tried insisting again that we could walk, to which Dimitris and Andreas both looked at us and shouted “NO!” Then a taxi showed up with a couple who were trying to get to the badminton venue for their son’s match. The taxi driver was also told he had to drop them off, so they got out. Andreas and Dimitris continued talking loudly and making wild arm gestures. Suddenly, the couple from the taxi got into our van, the door slammed shut, and we were moving. I was still on the phone with the reporter. I stared at Michele wide-eyed, trying to convey my thoughts (which were pretty much WTH?!). She shrugged and we made a wide loop around the parking lot on two wheels of the van before dropping off the couple from the taxi. I finished my call, and Dimitris dropped us off in front of the softball venue.

Okay, I’m taking up too much space here, so let me wrap this up. One of the best parts of the trip was on the plane ride home, finally descending, when a pillow fight broke out. Exhausted, cranky, ready to be home, and our athletes can’t pass up the chance to have fun. Despite all of the challenges, they reminded me that the trip was well worth it. I have a ton more pictures I could upload, but it's easier if you just click this link.

5. I had been wanting to go to NYC to visit Doug since he first moved there eight years ago. After his aneurism, it became even more important. And now that he has a posh apartment in Harlem, it was the perfect time. We visited art museums, shopped, drank wine and walked so much, I thought my feet would fall off. We saw the Statue of Liberty, Top of the Rock, Stone Street and the High Line. We went to Sister Act. I pretended I was a local and followed Doug and Roldan around a supermarket. Roldan cooked butter chicken and let us share his birthday gift certificate to one of the most elegant French restaurants in town. I’m sold on the city, and I’m determined to get back there at least every-other year. Oh, and I even managed to make the bus trip back to the airport all by myself.

4. Somehow, Kimmie and Ryan are the first of my friends to realize that the only way to get married is on a beach. Mary, Mark and I made the long journey down to Tybee Island with a quick overnight stop in Nashville so  Annaleigh and Shane could follow us. I had booked a four-bedroom house for the Marys, Leslies, Nancys and myself and Jeremie, but a few days before the trip we learned that it was under construction. I was pretty excited at the solution I negotiated: an upgraded house! When we arrived, we spent a good 10 minutes just wandering around and exclaiming “Wow!” Within a few minutes, we had spotted a pod of dolphins just off the back deck. Once the rest of our party found us, we headed to a popular restaurant, where, for some unfathomable reason, there are baby alligators that you can feed. I overcame my fear and posed for a few pictures, then swiftly walked to safer ground. We spent the morning of the wedding playing in the ocean, where baby Owen experienced saltwater for the first time. We showered and headed back to the beach for the wedding, which was so understated and beautiful, just like Kim. The food was delicious, again, and we overtook the dance floor, again. Jeremie had a meeting in Chicago with his new job, so he flew down and met us at the beach house right after the reception, where ¾ of the guests moved for an after-party. Sunday, the wedding party all piled their luggage into the house and we spent another afternoon on the beach. It was just like we had dreamed of in college – the first of many family beach vacations. In all, 17 of us sat down for dinner together and 15 of us slept there that night (even Julie’s boyfriend Rick came!). Once again, anyone who says that being in a sorority is like buying your friends has clearly not met my friends. We closed out the weekend with brunch at Mrs. Wilkes’ Dining Room in Savannah.

3. In October, I celebrated my birthday in three cities for 10 days. Andthen I learned that I would finally be able to move to St. Louis. And then the Cardinals won the World Series.

2. Thanksgiving marked my first official holiday with Jeremie. Upon arriving at his grandparents’ house in Kansas City, we were put to work, making a pumpkin cheesecake and deviled eggs. I was glad they found a couple of things that I was able to help with, since I am completely intimidated by their cooking! We celebrated the actual meal at Jeremie’s aunt’s house, where her boyfriend proposed! It was an eventful day, and fun to be a part of. That evening, we headed to the Plaza, where we watched Eric Stonestreet from Modern Family flip the switch to the famous lights. Friday, we picked up the kids and headed to Crown Center for ice skating. Then we did a little shopping before watching the Mayor’s Christmas tree lighting. Saturday, we did a little more shopping, then ate pizza and headed to see the Muppet Movie. We were proud to see that both kids enjoyed it.

1. All of that, and I’m still not done for the year. Friday, I will leave for Spokane, where the entire Steward clan will spend Christmas together. I’m sure it will hold its own set of stories, but I’ll save that for another time.

So, did I accomplish my resolution? Maybe not exactly. My bank account shrank from all the travel, and I may have a few more laugh lines around my eyes. But I would say I grew in friends, wisdom and happiness, and I can’t imagine much there’s more valuable than that.

*I realized when I got to the end that I had written the 11 in descending order, like No. 1 was going to be the best, but then I wrote them in chronological order. I considered switching them, but decided against it. Even if each event didn’t top the previous one, my year got better with each one.

Change is good

Remember when I said I’d wanted to live in St. Louis since I was a kid? Remember when I also said I don’t like change? This is, I suspect, the reason I’ve been alternating between euphoric excitement and all-out panic the past few weeks.

It’s also probably the reason I’ve started waking up in the middle of each night – sometimes sweating, sometimes certain there’s someone in my apartment, sometimes hanging onto a dream that I was cuddling with a puppy. Always annoyed.

The lack of continuous sleep plus the mounting items on my to-do lists scattered through my office, apartment and iPhone has me feeling like a college kid during finals week again. My stomach is in knots (or maybe that’s the four consecutive meals of pizza last weekend), I can barely focus, and there’s a strong urge to curl up in my bed and hide for a few days.

Honestly, the thought of everything I want being within reach is terrifying.

It’s pretty crazy to think back to where I was two years ago. I remember my last Facebook status of 2009 being something like: Good riddance, 2009. Things are still far from perfect, but 2011 has been one of the best years of my life. It took a lot of change to get here. I will get through this next set of changes, I will adjust, and hopefully it will be everything I’ve dreamed of. (Figuratively, not those dreams of people breaking into my apartment. Oh gosh, now I’m thinking about someone breaking into my new place in STL. Must stop.)

Change is good. Change is good. Change is good. I’m going to keep repeating that to myself every time I start to freak out.

I need help.

And not just because I've been neglecting my poor little blog.

No, I need help because I've been fueling my depression with fast food. Which is obviously not good for the whole losing-the-divorce-weight thing. I need to learn to cook. I don't like cooking, so I need to start very small.

So here's where I'm asking for help. I have mastered the PB&J, the grilled cheese, even the fried egg sandwich. It's time to get out from between two slices of bread. What's your favorite, easy recipe? Your go-to, I've-got-15-minutes meal? Bonus points if it's so easy it will fit in a comment on this blog, but I'll take longer recipes by email: mandi.steward@yahoo.com.

Thanks in advance. And now I'm going to be a good blog-friend by catching up on about a month's worth of posts. :)

Independence Bucket List

Lately I've been thinking I should pursue acting. Seems I've picked up the skill of being able to cry on command: in my cube, in my car, while cleaning my bathtub, in the middle of Target, while listening to Duffy's Rockferry album ... But then this song, although it made me cry, it gave me hope, too. Whatever happens, this is not the end of my life. As hard as it can be, and as much as I don't want to, I'm moving forward.

So, in the spirit of hope and moving forward, I've finally compiled my independence bucket list. It's by no means complete; I'm sure I'll think of more things about five minutes after I hit "publish."

Here we go. Things I want to be able to do on my own:
- Be able to cook dinner for myself at least once a week. Pasta dishes where you boil the pasta and heat the sauce do not count. Neither does salad from a bag, or grilled cheese.
- Explore a foreign city all by myself
- Shed my divorce weight
- Change a tire
- Paint a room
- Take a self-defense course. It’s not so much that I want to take the course by myself, but I figured saying I want to be able to take down a guy with my elbow needed a little explanation.
- Sew on a button (pathetic, I know)
- Go to a movie theater alone
- Change a diaper (also pathetic)
- Cook meat on a barbecue grill (I'm scared I'll start a fire)
- Figure out the HTML in my newsletter at work
- Move to a new city

Further suggestions are welcome. I'm not giving myself any kind of deadline, but I promise to blog as I complete things.

2011 World Tour: San Diego

Last week kicked off my Eight States + Greece in Six Months travel marathon. A bit of background about this trip: Special Olympics has World Games every two years, alternating between summer and winter sports (just like the "ordinary" Olympics). This year, World Summer Games takes place in Greece. Each state is governed separately and sends athletes based on a national quota. Those athletes become Team USA. Coaches from across the country can apply for a position, and there's a support team that runs the behind-the-scenes stuff. I am lucky to hold one of the two communications slots on the suppport team. Each World Games year, Team USA converges for a Training Camp, where all the athletes and coaches get to meet each other, train a little and identify any challenges before heading to the main event. This year, Training Camp was in San Diego. (Okay, so maybe that was a lot of background.)

I headed to St. Louis on Saturday for a bridal shower and bachelorette for my fabulous friend, Erin. Since they had rented out hotel rooms for the evening, I figured it made the most sense to crash there and figure out transportation to the airport in the morning. This was all good in theory, until I got up at 6 a.m. Sunday and panicked because air travel makes me a little nervous. On top of that, I was responsible for escorting two athletes to San Diego.

I rushed to get ready and flew down to the Metro station. I was plenty early for the 7:25 train, but I wanted some sort of confirmation I was on the right side of the tracks. Evidently, my face was screaming "CONFUSED!!!" A gentleman I had seen in the hotel lobby told me as much, and I asked if this train would take me to the airport. He said yes. I exhaled.

The train arrived; we boarded. The gentleman asked where I was from, and we engaged in small talk on and off for the next few minutes. Then he told me that actually, there's some construction, so I'd need to get off at Union Station, then take a bus to the CWE, then catch a different train to the airport. He said he'd be doing the same thing, but getting off a few stops before me, and that I was welcome to tag along. I gave him a grateful smile. What would I have done if I hadn't met this nice man?

Oh, crap. Did I seriously just agree to follow a complete stranger, who is riding public transportation at 7:30 on a Sunday morning, away from the only way I know how to get to the airport? Am I just going to follow him anywhere? What happens when we go off course and I want to turn around? Where is he going to take me? When will someone notice I'm missing? I pulled my huge duffel bag a little closer and gave him another smile, nervous this time. Then I cursed myself for being so trusting and gullible.

We got to the first transfer point, and I did hear the train operator say something about getting off for the airport, so I followed the guy off the train. He offered to help me with my bags up a giant flight of stairs, but I declined. "It's not heavy, just awkward," I said, as I struggled to breathe. We got on the bus. I relaxed my grip on my bag. We got off, just like he said we would. I relaxed a bit more. By the time I lugged my stuff down another flight of stairs to wait for the train that would, indeed, take me to the airport, I was sweating in 35-degree weather.

Confident that I was out of danger, I sat on the final train right in front of the guy and hoped he interpreted my uneasiness as general travel nerves. I chatted him up a bit more and learned that his wife had passed away a few years ago, he works the night shift at the parking lot of the hotel, and his car was currently broken down. He had wanted to go to college, but hadn't made it. He has trouble with directions. He is engaged to a lady from Brazil, whom he met on a Christian dating site. Ahhh, there it is, I thought. Thanks, God, for putting him in my life today. My heart literally leapt. I made sure to thank him profusely before he got off at his stop (another 10-minute walk from his house). I got his name, too, so I can write the hotel and let them know what an honest, helpful employee they have. A smile was plastered on my face by the time I met Brock, Lucas and their families at the airport terminal.

I can ride the Metro to the airport (with the help of a guy I wasn't sure I trusted).

The rest of the trip out to San Diego was uneventful. I've written an entire post already, so I'll just give a quick recap of each day of Training Camp.

Sunday

This was Lucas’s first airplane ride, so I was glad it was smooth. We connected with the rest of Missouri’s delegates in Kansas City before reboarding. The second leg was kind of long, but also pretty uneventful. Everyone was really excited and talkative at first, but by about an hour in, almost everyone was asleep.

We made it to the hotel, where the athletes jumped right in with Healthy Athletes TRAIN screening. Then it was time for dinner. The room was decorated beach-party style. We enjoyed guest speaker Rafer Johnson, who won a gold medal in the 1960 Olympics and helped start Special Olympics Southern California. The athletes all sat with their teams rather than their states, and they were encouraged to bond as Team USA. Several rounds of “USA! USA! USA!” helped ease that right along. Then it was time for the Torch Run, and our own Lucas got to run in with an officer from San Diego PD!

Monday

I must depart from the account of Training Camp to show you maybe the coolest thing California has to offer: a cart escalator. Okay, so apparently there's a Target in St. Louis that has one of these, but Michele and I stood there with our jaws hanging to our knees, then quickly both whipped out our cell phones for pictures. *Sigh.* I am such a Midwesterner.

Back to camp. I started off the day at cycling. They were at this cool venue called Fiesta Island, which is a big park for fishing/kayaking/cycling/walking/dogs. I spent most of my time in the back of the lead van, hanging out the open door and shooting pictures while I kept an eye on the five stronger cyclists to make sure they all stayed together. These guys are really good, and most of them have big personalities, which made them fun to be around. One guy repeatedly asked to see my socks. I have no idea why.

Next, I headed to the golf course. It’s actually right by the hotel where we stayed. I immediately found Mike and Jeff from Missouri – great to see familiar faces! I was able to get pictures of all the golfers without getting nailed by a golf ball (although I guess one guy nearly took me out) or kneeling in goose poop (all over one of the holes). One of the guys had been doing pretty well but not hitting the ball like he wanted. While I was watching, he finally got the hit he wanted … and landed in the bunker. He was happy anyway. 

Monday evening, we had a fashion show. It was really fun to see all the cool stuff Team USA will be wearing. The cyclists probably have the most professional looking outfits, but golf is by far the flashiest. Check out the Loudmouth pants Jeff was modeling! There were two beauty queens on hand to escort the athletes, which they loved (that's Brock on the far right).



Tuesday

I spent Tuesday all over the SDSU campus. It is absolutely gorgeous – palm trees, flowers, valley/hill views. I took a quick walking tour to familiarize myself with the layout, then headed to softball. Got a few pictures of them practicing catching, and then they wanted to take a break so told me to catch up with them after lunch at the batting cages. Next I headed to bocce but got there right as they were eating lunch. I hung out with them for a bit and listened to their nutrition session. They have an athlete who has lost 66 pounds! She is very well spoken on portion size.

After that, I went back to softball, but somehow managed to show up in the last 10 minutes of their practice again.  They let me get into the batting cage with them. I crouched down beside the coach, who was throwing up balls for them to swing at. It was actually kind of terrifying but produced great results. I wish I could have been there longer.

Tuesday night, everyone went to the SDSU baseball game. Because of traffic from a soccer game (Mexico vs. somebody … who watches soccer?!), we missed the first pitch. (Seriously, traffic was so bad that the skycam was covering it and it took up at least three minutes on the local news.)  However, Team USA made up more than half of the audience which was really cool to see. Pretty much every time they shot to the crowd on the jumbotron, it was some of our athletes dancing. I hope the baseball players could feel the love from our athletes. This athletic department has been amazing in sending out their teams to train with ours, so it’s nice to be able to support them as well. Below, proof that the two communications ladies did spend some time without a camera in front of their faces.



Wednesday

Wednesday, I had the car to myself, and I managed to navigate the California freeway with no incidents. Well, unless you count taking the wrong exit and then having to complete an entire cloverleaf to get back on track. I hear I'm not the only one who made that mistake, though. I swear, the roads are just confusing.

I spent most of the day at SDSU again, catching a few last photos to fill in what we were missing. The distance runners on the track team were competing in an Amazing Race-style scavenger hunt, so I tried to video that, except then I realized they are runners. So that lasted about five minutes, and then I frantically headed toward the last station to get some of the teams as they received their last clue.

Wednesday evening, we had a Greek-themed closing ceremony. Olympic softball player Amanda Freed spoke, and we got to see some pictures of the Isle of Rhodes, where we'll be spending Host Town before the Games. And then the dance. Oh, the dance. These athletes know how to let loose. Should you dare enter the dance floor, you'll be sucked in and forced to drop all inhibitions. It looks a little something like this:

Thursday
We had to meet in the lobby at 3:30 am to catch a bus for the airport. It looked a little something like this:

We made it to the airport, then to St. Louis, then to my car, then I somehow mustered enough energy to drive home. As soon as I dragged myself inside, though, I face-planted onto my couch. And didn't move. For three days.

Weeks like these remind me why I love my job so much. Seeing these athletes grow, make new friends and experience new things ... it just blows me away. They're worth every late night.

If you've read this far, you should follow Team USA on Facebook! http://www.facebook.com/SOTeamUSA

I Can Complete a 5k

I'll begin this post with an apology for not updating more often or getting this out sooner, along with a thank you for the support following my last post, which is how I feel like I always begin. With that out of the way, here's my 5k story.

My mom and I arrived at the Polar Bear Strut, got checked in and oogled our new event shirts. Then I found out that I was currently the top fundraiser, the prize for which was a small flatscreen TV. Good way to start the day.

Then we had to walk a LONG way up a BIG hill to the start line. Seemed a little counterproductive.

The race was off, and we held back to let all the runners out of our way. Part of the route went along a lane of Hwy 54, so that was pretty interesting.

Before we could even see the turnaround point, the guy in the lead passed us going back. Unbelievable.

There were some killer hills on this course -- seriously. I think the usual record for a 5k is somewhere around 18-19 minutes, and the record for this course is around 20 minutes. I am fully using that as a crutch, thankyouverymuch.

We entered the home stretch, and I noticed that the ladies behind us with their dog were creeping up on us. Then I realized their dog was a greyhound. So I decided we HAD to beat the greyhound. (Can't imagine it makes a difference if it was a mini-greyhound.)

Then my mom dropped her earmuffs. Crap! I picked them up for her and trotted forward, staying in front of the dog.

Then we reached what I thought was the finish line, and we were told we had to make a loop around the parking lot. Shoot. My mom slowed down, so I shared my new goal with her. I believe I detected an eye roll, but she picked up pace again.

Then we reached what I thought was the finish line, and we were told we had to loop around another part of the parking lot. Seriously? Torture.

But we made it. In under an hour - 53 minutes to be exact. And we beat the greyhound. :)

Turns out someone had walked up to registration with $100 more than me, so I lost that TV, but I still have the satisfaction of knowing I raised a good chunk of money for the athletes I love so much.

I was embarrassingly sore afterward, so I've gained a whole new level of admiration for runners. It felt great, though. Even better was knowing I CAN.

Click here for a picture of my mom and me at the beginning of the race.

Thank you again to everyone who donated to my cause!

I can make soup from scratch

We had a carry-in lunch last week, so I decided to try this soup my mom has made a couple of times. The last time she made it, she said it only took "a few minutes" and I foolishly believed her and decided to leave it until just before I left for work to prepare. Turns out a few minutes is more like an hour and a half for a novice chef like myself. In the end, it was pretty tasty. Below is a photo chronology of my adventure, and the recipe is at the bottom.

Chopping the onion with my new knife on my new cutting board.

I suddenly realized I didn't have a whisk, so I settled for the attachment from my mixer, which was not exactly comfortable.

And then I realized I forgot to check my catch-all drawer, where a real whisk was waiting.

Chopping baby carrots since I don't have a veggie grater.

Only I can manage to spill broccoli all over the counter and onto the floor when I cut open the bag. Shoot.

Starting to look yummy!

Shoot. Can someone please explain how I was supposed to get the hot mixture into the blender without spilling it all over my stove?

Love the puree setting!

Shoot. This is a huge part of why I rarely cook. And I'll be honest: This sat in my sink for about four days.

The finished product: pretty and delicious! AND I got it into the crockpot without spilling!

Because cooking is a major thing I need to work on in my independence project, this is probably the first of  many food excursions I'll include on here. For each one, I'll include the recipe at the bottom, along with my own rating system.

Total time: 1.5 hours
Shoot level (meaning number of times I said "shoot," more commonly known as degree of difficulty): 18
Worth it? Yes, but only if you have some great bread to go with it. And I still prefer the real thing from Panera in a bread bowl.

Panera Bread Broccoli Cheese Soup

½ medium onion chopped
5 Tbs butter melted
¼ cup all-purpose four
2 cups half and half
2 cups chicken broth
8 oz broccoli coarsely chopped
1 cup shredded carrots
Salt and pepper
2 cups grated sharp cheddar cheese
¼ tsp ground nutmeg

Saute onion in 1 Tbs melted butter, set aside.  Using a wire whisk combine the remaining 4 Tbs melted butter and the flour in a large pot over medium heat.  Cook stirring frequently for about 4 minutes.  Slowly add the half-and-half, continue stirring.  Add chicken broth, whisking all the time.  Simmer for 20 minutes.  Add the broccoli, carrots and sautéed onion.  Cook over low heat until the veggies are tender, about 20 minutes.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  By now the soup should be thickened.  Pour in batches into a blender and puree.  Return the puree to the pot and place over low heat.  Add the grated cheese and stir until well blended.  Stir in the nutmeg.  Serves 4.

I Can Set Up a Wireless Network (!!!)

Before I launch into today's post, I have to list a couple of things that I'm pretty proud of that got left off my original Things I Can Do list: I can kill a spider. This doesn't mean I like to or that I won't ask someone else to do it for me, but dang it, I can. Also, I can navigate they NYC subway system well enough to get from almost anywhere in Manhattan to the New York Presbyterian Hospital and back again. By myself.

Moving on ...

My big Christmas present this year (so big it had to be a joint present from my parents and myself) was a laptop. It came last week, and I already had my wireless router on hand and ready to set up. However, you know how sometimes you get in your head that you just can't do certain things, so much that you don't even want to try? Setting up wireless was one of those things that sounded about as do-able as walking into a cafe in Paris and ordering lunch. So I asked for help.

Three men, two Mediacom reps and several hours later, it was still not set up. I was ready to call the router a lemon and take it in for exchange today when I decided to give it one last shot. It still wasn't easy - I spent about an hour - but you know what? I did it. So no offense to my tech support team, but I'm sitting here on my couch typing this because I made it happen. It pays to push yourself to try something new. (I have a feeling God might be laughing a bit at the irony of the situation.)

I need to go get groceries and pick up a Redbox, but instead I'm reading my favorite blog, listening to the beautiful music that accompanies it and sipping chai from my favorite mug. Sometimes the little things are worth celebrating.

Thank you, once again, for the outpouring of love following my last entry. I know I've been neglecting all of your blogs and not updating this one as much as I'd like. No more excuses since I've solved that whole wireless problem. Up next: that New Year's Resolution, finally.

If you can't be with the one you love, love yourself.

It's been a bittersweet few weeks. I've made some adjustments in my life (specifically to my Facebook settings) to hopefully prevent the almost weekly cry-my-eyes-out session I'd been experiencing. It has helped, and I have been strong about it, but it's also left me feeling pretty depleted. Rejection, letting go, accepting the end ... these are not things I do well.

However, there's also been some really good. Bible study is continuing to change my heart. I've been celebrating babies and friends and making progress at work. I can't say I've specifically done anything on my independence list, but I've been getting better at relying on God to love me and take me where I'm supposed to be. Again, I'm seeing that this is the path to happiness - not through any other person. I'm making my own happiness.

So, because this week I'm loving myself, it's time to celebrate Things I Can Do:
- Fly across the country
- Bake brownies from scratch
- Buy a car
- Try a new church by myself
- Decorate an apartment
- Take a picture of myself (thus the profile photo)
- Sing the states alphabetically
- Build an online fundraiser on our website (believe me, this is huge)
- Throw a baby shower
- Balance my checkbook
- Go to the gym alone
- Climb a (small) cliff
- Plan and run a ceremony for 4,000 people
- Drive for four hours (probably longer, but I haven't tried)
- Join a sorority - this was way outside my comfort zone at the time
- Jump in freezing water in the middle of February
- Ask for a table for one at a restaurant
- Score a lease on an amazing apartment

Finally, I'll close out this post with a lyric from "Heart of Life" by John Mayer. I am not a huge fan of his personally, but these words really hit home:

Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No, it wont all go the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good

And an extra shout-out to my circle of friends for defending the silver lining. :)

I can buy four cars if I want.

Not that high up on my list of things I wanted to do on my own, but very high on my list of things that would make me feel independent was to buy a new car. I've been looking at Honda CR-Vs all summer, and two weeks ago, I decided to chat with a couple of dealers to figure out exactly what this would cost me. You know, so I could build up my savings a bit more and maybe buy a new laptop or furniture before I went ahead with the big purchase. Lesson No. 1: If you go in to talk to the dealers, you're most likely going to leave with a car.

I went by a dealership in Columbia first because I know a guy who works there. Luckily, as I pulled in, I spotted him on the lot immediately. He showed me a couple of 2010 models that were "green-tagged," which I guess means listed below invoice. They were everything I hoped they'd be from the research I had been doing. The manager took my car for a drive to come up with a trade-in value and came back $2000 less than I hoped. Ouch. After a little back-and-forth, we determined that I could basically get into any 2010 on the lot for about the same price, which would mean I wouldn't have to settle for one of the green-tagged ones, which were both black. Good news.

Then the finance guy ran my credit, and this is where the game totally changed. Both he and the manager both came over to personally shake my hand. "Mandi can buy four cars if she wants," said the finance guy. "We never see credit scores like that." Lesson No. 2: There are few things in life that will earn you as much respect as building your credit score.

Since this was the first time I'd even test driven the vehicle, and I had a laptop and some furniture to buy before I'd really be ready to move forward with the transaction, I thanked everyone and drove home for the night.

The next day I told the whole thing to my parents. My dad, an expert car buyer who has taught me everything I know, suggested I check out the Honda place in town. It has just been taken over by a new company and the newspaper story said they're focusing on volume, not profit-per-car. So we drove over and checked out their lot: almost all 2011s, which the other dealer didn't think had come out yet. And they were only about $1000 more expensive. Wow.

My lunch break that Tuesday was supposed to be for getting registered to vote and signing up at the library, two things I had been putting off since officially moving back here. I took care of them both and still had 40 minutes left, so I ran back to the dealership. A saleslady came up to me and I showed her the one I liked best, a brown 2011. I took it for a drive and loved it. I wanted to see what they'd give me for my car in comparison to the other dealer, so she ran down a checklist of questions. Then her manager suggested I drive the CR-V back to my office so they could give my car a thorough evaluation, and I could pick it back up after work. Lesson No. 3: If you fall for this, you will never pick your car back up, because you'll grow attached to the new vehicle at such an exponential rate that you'll pretty much refuse to drive anything else home.

I went back to the dealer after work armed with all the numbers and facts I needed to make a firm offer. The manager looked like he was about to laugh when I told him how much I wanted for my car, then saved himself when he saw that I was serious and had done research. He rambled for a bit about my speakers, which were going out, and the fact that Pontiacs are going downhill quickly since they're no longer being produced, etc, etc, until I interrupted him and told him that I'm more interested in the final number than my monthly payment or the breakdown of new car minus trade-in. I'm pretty sure that also got his attention, because we got down to business real fast. Lesson No. 4: Go in with a number, and don't let them distract you from it.

He came back with a number that was $700 higher than I wanted (but only $100 higher than the highest I was willing to go). I told him it was too high. He asked what he could do to make the deal, and I told him he could throw in the trunk shelf, which only comes standard in the high-end model. He actually did laugh this time and informed me that those cost $380. I really wasn't willing to budge, though, because that's a safety thing for me - I don't want to tempt people to break into my car because they can see everything in the trunk. Plus, I knew I could get a 2010 with the shelf for no extra cost at the other dealer. I mentioned this, but left out that it was an earlier year. He told me to quit using the F-word (the other dealer's name starts with F). Lesson No. 5: Don't be in a rush; you have other options.

He came down a couple hundred and offered to throw in the $99 closing fee. I hesitated for a long time. Then he practically begged me to tell him how he could close this deal. Again, I told him the trunk shelf. He offered to split the cost of it with me. I offered to pay $150 (I honestly think I confused him a little and he didn't catch that that was less than half). He said okay. I hesitated again, this time even longer. I thought about it and realized they were basically giving me everything I'd asked for. I was getting the shelf included for less than his original offer, which he said was not high enough to include the shelf. And I'll admit, I was pretty much already thinking of it as my car and didn't want to drive home in my G6. I shook his hand and repeated the number he had given me.

He let out a long breath, and the saleslady clapped and cheered. Then he loosened his tie and said he was going to go outside so he could get some air. "How many cars have you bought?" I told him this was my second purchase. His eyes got huge. "Do you want to work here?!" I laughed and told him no, while my dad has taught me a lot about this, I do not want to do this every day. Lesson No. 6: Make. Them. Sweat.

I know he wasn't just pumping my ego, because another guy from the dealership also complimented me, and then the finance guy, who hadn't even been around, told me I really knew what I was doing. Which wasn't entirely true at all, because I still got stuck with a $199 anti-theft fee, even though the manager had told me the price we shook on included all fees. Lesson No. 7: There are ALWAYS hidden fees!

I'm still riding the high of negotiating this deal on my own, and I've already taken my new ride on a couple of short trips. I love it, and even more, I love that I did it on my own.

Oh - one lesson I left out: Take your teenagers with you when you buy cars. While I always loved the idea of new cars, riding in them, smelling them -- sitting in with my dad in the managers' offices while he negotiated deals has proven to be one of the best skills he has taught me.