Tom Hanks

"Where did his name come from?" 

Oh no. We must start at the beginning. 

Any of you who know my family well know that we didn't grow up with dogs. Sure, we tried it a couple of times, only to have our fears confirmed that everyone in the house was too allergic. The pet that I grew up with for the longest amount of time was a Betta fish named Tyler Perry (RIP) who lived a spectacular 2 1/2 years and died while I was at summer camp. 

It wasn't that I didn't like animals, necessarily - more that I was indifferent toward them. All dogs were to me as a child were slobbery beasts that shed all over me and made my eyeballs puff up like golf balls. Or, worse, yappy tiny animals that just wouldn't be quiet. I never felt deprived without a family dog to grow up with. 

Then I met Jordan. 

The very first time I went to visit his family in Lillian, Alabama, I got to meet Abby. Abby, a precious Labradoodle with big giant (very human) eyes, totally stole my heart and converted me into a dog person. I was hooked. I had to have one. And, thanks to the miracle of Flonase, I was now out of the allergy woods for the first time in my life.

This is us upon our first meeting. Love at first sight. 

From that point on, it was just a question of when and what kind of dog rather than if I would get one. 

On the phone one afternoon, while Jordan was still in dental school at UAB and I was teaching in Huntsville, we were ping-ponging names for my future dog. 

Editor's note - Jordan will tell you a different version of this story. 

Jordan: How about Brinkley?
MC: I feel like that is familiar to me already...whose dog is named Brinkley? OH! I know! It's Tom Hanks' dog's name in "You've Got Mail." 
Jordan: ...oh. Well, can't use that. Actually, why don't you just name him Tom Hanks? 

He then proceeded to send me a picture of a Goldendoodle (my dog of choice at the time) mashed up with Tom Hanks. It's terrifying, so scroll with caution: 

Told you. The stuff of nightmares. 

That picture made me laugh so hard that the name just stuck. 

In the spring of 2014, Abby and a black labrador...um...fell deeply in love....and she got pregnant with nine puppies. After weeks of impatiently waiting, they arrived. We got a text that the second one out, and the first male, was "chubby and had big paws," so we had a feeling that might be TH. Jordan and I happened to be at the beach 2 weeks after they were born, and it sounds cheesy, but the minute I held him, I knew. I also cried. Because as Kristen Bell says, "if I'm not between a 3 and a 7 on the emotional scale, I'm crying." 

Since that first day of snuggling this sweet puppy, I feel like my heart has broken wide open and I have an even deeper capacity to love. This dog is as much a part of our family as Jordan or me, and I wouldn't have it any other way. 

I loved his puppy breath. I loved how his puppy belly nearly dragged the ground after he finished eating because he's such a glutton (just like me). I love how, in a hilarious turn of events, Tom Hanks has allergies (just like me). I love his big deep sigh when he lays down for a nap (okay, again, just like me). I love how friendly he is toward new people and other dogs. I love his obedient, patient stillness even as drops of drool are falling from his mouth when he's told to wait before he attacks his food or a treat. I love that we can balance a strip of bacon on his nose and he waits until he's told to eat it. 

I love how I'm at my happiest when we take a nap together on the couch. I love his curiosity about Christmas lights and how he's a little scared of inflatable Christmas decorations in people's yards. I love how he's also, inexplicably, scared of pretzels. 

I love his just-out-of-the-bath run around the house. I love how he consistently burps on Jordan, but never on me. I love confusing passers-by as we yell, "Tom Hanks! Get back over here!" through a crowded park.

I love the steady sound of his sleeping breathing. I love how his paws twitch as they run through the open fields of his dreams when he's deep in a puppy sleep. I love how he always ends up with the last bite of food from our plates by gently resting his head on our laps at the table and gazing at us. I love how my parents have his sister, and two of our close friends have his siblings, too. I love how he doesn't care about squirrels or other moving targets, and will retrieve a ball, but then run it straight past you. I love how he knows when I'm sad and sits on my feet. I love his beard. I love the peanut butter that always ends up in his beard. 

I could go on for about ten more paragraphs. You dog people will know what I mean. Loving this precious pup has softened and changed my world in so many ways: snuggling him has made me more gentle; training him has made me more patient; just getting to sit back and watch him has made me more joyful. He's made me consider vegetarianism because I now deeply love animals and care about how they're treated. He's made me incapable of casually scrolling through Facebook, lest I find an article about a lost or abused dog.

None of my friends from Decatur can believe that I've gone from totally ambivalent about dogs to "crazy-lady-who-treats-her-dog-like-a-human-child." I can't either, really. But it was meant to be. This dog and I were always meant for each other. In a weird way, he's taught me more about what unconditional love is like - the "grow a brand new heart to accommodate all the new love you have to give" thing. I can't even imagine what having a baby will be like. I'll probably explode. 

So here's to the dog who changed everything. TH, the canine love of my life.

"Be the person your dog thinks you are." 

Netflix Rex

Jordan and I are traveling back today from Clearwater, so I'm truncating the post a bit.

BUT. 

What I'd love to be doing today, and what I'll probably do tomorrow, is snuggling up on the couch with Tom Hanks and binge-watching some Netflix. I thought I'd give you my favorite shows on Netflix right now - a comedy series, a drama series, and a documentary, and a movie.  

Comedy - The Office. 

If you haven't already watched this show, drop everything and get after it. The Office is just one of those shows that is timeless, hysterical every time, and family-friendly. This is a show I can watch with my parents, grandparents, husband, and (one day) with my kids. Jordan and I have a kind of unhealthy obsession with this show, and all seasons of it are streaming on Netflix. GO. Run to your couches. Tell Dwight I say, "False." 

Drama - Jessica Jones. 

Netflix adapted this comic book heroine into a series brilliantly carried by Krysten Ritter. If you liked her as Rory's kooky friend in Gilmore Girls, you'll love watching her be a total badass in this series. The show itself can get pretty dark, but the plot is strong, the writing is compelling, and the acting is really great. Action packed and bursting with girl-power. Worth it. 

Doc - SOMM.

I seriously can't say enough about how much we love this doc. We've watched it at least twice. Even if you know absolutely nothing about wine (like me), watching people who are training to become Master Sommeliers is the most riveting thing on Netflix. These guys can identify the region, year, and type of wine by SMELLING IT. Let that sink in. They're amazing at their jobs, and watching people be excellent is always entertaining. 

Movie - Chef.

Jon Favreau's  2014 comedy about a formerly-great-currently-washed-up chef is so heartwarming, so funny and so smart. On top of all of that, it includes the most delicious food porn and has a killer soundtrack to boot. John Leguizamo, Sofia Vergara, Scarlett Johansson, Dustin Hoffman, and Robert Downy, Jr. all help make this movie fabulous. Trust me - this is a movie that will leave you feeling inspired, warm and fuzzy, and, above all, hungry. Watch it with a big giant pizza at the ready. It's just a really delightful watch. 

Happy binging! See you Monday. 

 

Run your race, tell the truth.

Jordan and I took a trip to Clearwater, Florida tonight. We're here through Saturday - more on that later. 

On the plane, though, I got to finally sink my teeth into Jen Hatmaker's "For The Love," which I got for Christmas but haven't yet been able to read. (It also served to distract me from the completely out-of-nowhere anxiety about flying I've developed. ...what? Where did that come from?)

I used to say that God lived in the "Shuffle" setting on my iPod (#throwback), because somehow the right song would always play, time after time, song after song. But now I think God lives in moments like cracking open this book on a day when I tried something major.

When I posted this blog to Facebook this morning, I can't tell you how fast my heart was beating. Not because I thought that anything big would happen - I'm not self-important enough to believe that. But because, as my friend Erin White put it, blogs can often appear to be "an exercise in vanity." I was so worried that people would think, "WE-heh-helllll, someone thinks a lot of themselves, don't they??" 

And then I started to get the nicest text messages. And comments on the Facebook post. And people shared the link. (Okay, I made my mom share it, but there were others who did it unprompted, I swear.) 

This is not because I am a big deal. This is not because I am an accomplished writer. I am neither of those things.

This is because, when you have cultivated a circle of people who love you even when you are undeserving, they cheer you on when they know you are on the right track. 

Jen says it better than I could in "Run Your Race:"

"Maybe you need to invest in your gifts. Take a class. Go to a conference. Sign up for a seminar. ... Say yes to that thing. Stop minimizing what you are good at and throw yourself into it with no apologies. Do you know who will do this for you? No one. You are it. Don't bury that talent, because the only thing that fear yields is one dormant gift in a shallow grave. ...You are good at something for a reason. This isn't fake or a fluke or small." 

Um, whoa. 

My initial reaction to writing that into this blog post is, "Yikes, if I include that paragraph, will people think, 'Wow, she sure is tooting her own horn. 'Don't bury that talent?' Okay, diva. Psh. She has a blog. Big deal. Everyone has a blog." 

And then, heavyweight Brené Brown brings the "two" in this one-two punch of REALNESS: 

"Daring greatly is not about winning or losing. It's about courage. In a world where scarcity and shame dominate and feeling afraid has become second nature, vulnerability is subversive. Uncomfortable. It's even a little dangerous at times. ...But nothing is as uncomfortable, dangerous, or hurtful as believing that I'm standing on the outside of my life looking in and wondering what it would be like if I had the courage to show up and let myself be seen." 

More than anything, this blog is an exercise in not in vanity, but in vulnerability. In saying, "I don't think I'm the best, but this is something I have to offer." I think I'm pretty good at writing and I think I'm a pretty good encourager, and those two things combined could provide a moment of not-aloneness for someone else. A moment of community, maybe. 

I don't know if that counts as "the world's deep hunger." Maybe only one person's. Maybe only my mom's. But this is my deep gladness, and because of all the people in my corner, I finally had the gumption to share it. I'm not curing cancer - I certainly don't mean this to be overblown - but today, for me, this was a step toward something that scares me and thrills me, all at the same time.

Your turn. 

Graveyard Fields and Waterfall

Spooky name, right? I know. 

Thankfully, that's the only scary thing about this area. This, like Mt. Mitchell, is another hike that includes a drive down the gorgeous Blue Ridge Parkway. 

The name comes from what was once fields full of trees that were reduced to stumps by an enormous wind hundreds of years ago. The stumps looked like rows of tombstones (hence the name). Since then, a wildfire has burned those stumps away, but the name remains, and still draws lots of people to this really cool and popular hiking spot. 

The multitude of trails around the area are great, because, depending on what you're in the mood for, you can really suit yourself. Jordan, TH and I hiked one of the trails that continues up the mountain (the base sits at 5, 120 feet) and we really enjoyed it. The terrain is different from a lot that you normally see in this area -- you still get the lush, green plants, but because the wildfire cleared so many trees, they all sit on more of a plain than in a forest. 

Also, REAL blueberries! Like, I (Jordan) picked them and I (really me this time) ate them! Straight off the bush! It was crazy! 

But the best part of this hike is easily the waterfall and stream. At one point trying to get back toward the exit, we got a little lost (although Jordan would insist he knew where we were - hehe!) and thank goodness! We ended up alongside the beautiful stream that feeds into the waterfall. Watching Tom Hanks discover how deep the water was and splash around in it was hysterical to me. We kicked off our shoes and ended up hiking in the stream itself almost the entire way back! As a Type A planner, I'm learning to love these little spontaneous little moments that create such sweet memories. I can thank my husband for that. 

Here's a video of our big ol' dummy (said with love) trying to figure out how to walk in water (that's really not that deep). Please excuse my spastic breath-laughter. 

We loved the different terrain and water features that this hike offered, and because it's so popular, it looks like we aren't alone. Would be a truly fabulous summer hike for a couple or family. Pack swimsuits, a lunch, and make a day of it! 

Hopefully, you'll enjoy it so much that you'll be tuckered out like this little fella. 

Torn sheet used to fight (and lose) against dog hair in the car.

Stillness.

Yesterday, we took Christmas down. I always hate that day. Even if I feel I've soaked in every single bit of goodness from the holiday season, it always feels like the tree is coming down too soon.  

Jordan always ribs me about something he calls Kodak Moment Syndrome (KMS for all your medical professionals) - he thinks that I have this condition that forces me to compulsively create "perfect" moments. And I don't disagree - I got that from my mother, the queen of creating perfectly decorated guest rooms or hand-crafted birthday party invitations. 

Christmas feeds that KMS in such an intense way. Everything is glittery. Everything is decorated. Soft, warm, glowing lights twinkle in all corners of my house. Even when there's clutter everywhere, or Tom Hanks has shed what seems to be his entire coat (#everysingleday), if the house is decorated for Christmas, it all seems to matter less. 

At Christmas, the KMS void is filled. There's no need to fuss over the house being just right because everything is already beautiful and magical. And because of that, during Christmastime, I find myself sitting still a lot more. 

And by "still," I mean STILL. Not like, "I'm physically being still but I'm scrolling through Instagram." Mind, body, heart, soul, Christmas tree, glass of wine, STILL. 

And boy, does it make it obvious that I don't sit still that often. 

We are a generation that plays Netflix in the background of our lives - not to watch, but to just "have it on" while we're cooking a meal or putting on makeup. Constant background noise. Constant companionship through social media. Even if we're physically alone, we're never actually alone. Our friends are just a Snapchat away. 

I'm not casting stones - I am the #1 perpetrator of the offense of absently scrolling through Facebook 10 times a day. 

But isn't it kind of like avoiding mirrors when you know you aren't in the shape you'd like to be in? Isn't constantly being surrounded by images (via social media) or sound (via Netflix or cable) keeping us from the clarity of the kind of introspection that comes with sitting still? 

It can be a little scary, that kind of stillness. You never know what's going to bubble up. I think it's the reason we avoid it.

But as I write this, sitting at my kitchen table, I hear my own voice from within so clearly. The last remaining strands of twinkle lights that are wrapped around my bar cart are starting to glow a little more brightly. The wind outside is whipping up flurries of newly fallen snow. The mountain air is whispering.

Nothing is happening, and so something is happening.

Maybe you aren't like me, and stillness comes easily for you. What a blessing. If you are like me, though, I challenge you to lock yourself in a closet, or sit at your own kitchen table, close the computer, turn off the TV, turn your phone screen-side-down, and look in the proverbial mirror. Introduce yourself to yourself. 

It may have been a while since you met. 

Until next year.