Give It Up

I said to my mom last week that I feel like there are so many people hurting right now.  The local news talks about the depressing unemployment rate in Georgia, and the national news is worse with unimaginable human rights violations.  I read Sarah Good’s CaringBridge site about her daughter’s fight with cancer and watch people fight for their lives on a daily basis at the hospital.  While I complain about being at work all the time or bitch about the handymen that have been working on my house, some people would do anything in the world to have my life right now.  And yet I spend so much unnecessary time worrying about things I cannot control.

A week ago tomorrow, Matthew’s uncle, Don Spivey, lost his fight to lung cancer.  The Spiveys are a close-knit family, and the service was tough, as it is for anyone, especially someone who leaves us too soon.  The weekend was filled with good memories, though.  At a family get together the evening before the service, we watched old videos (VHS!) of Don as a younger man.  They captured his fun-loving personality - I hope that the ‘older’ generation remembers him this way.   We even got a kick out of the fact that he was laughing his ass off as the family was dealing with the logistics of his passing. 

One thing that I appreciated about Don as I got to know the Spivey family better was the fact that he always seemed genuinely interested in my life.  When he asked, “How’s school?” he wanted an answer, not just a, “Good.”   He looked into my eyes and dug deeper if appropriate and often offered a humorous piece of advice.  Matthew went home to see Don as it became obvious that his days were getting fewer, and even then, he was asking Matthew about Atlanta and work and my job and our plans for the future.  Don spent his adult life encouraging the youth of Kingsport, and even on his deathbed, Don was concerned about making others feel good.

I started reading the CarePages site of Megan Gaddis about 4 years ago.  Megan was a 26-year old teacher in Atlanta and an inspirational young woman in life and death.  Her family attends our church, which is how I became aware of her story.  Her mom kept a blog as her daughter slowly passed away of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease.  Although I never met Megan or her mother, I was especially moved by their story and rarely read an entry without tearing up.  I know that everyone has a different opinion and view on life after death, but reading Mrs. Gaddis’ writings are certainly a point in favor of the big man upstairs.

As I reflected on our family’s loss this weekend and thought about the pain that is a burden to so many right now, I was reminded of an entry in Mrs. Gaddis’ blog.  I’m not quite sure why this particular story hit me in the gut, but I have carried it in my mind since I read it in 2008….

“At first, I saw God as my observer, my judge, keeping track of the things I did wrong, so as to know whether I merited heaven or hell when I die.

He was out there sort of like a president. I recognized his picture when I saw it, but I really didn’t know Him. But later on when I met Christ, it seemed as though life were rather like a bike ride, but it was a tandem bike, and I noticed that Christ was in the back helping me to pedal.

I don’t know just when it was that He suggested we change places, but life has not been the same since.
 When I had control, I knew the way.
 It was rather boring, but predictable…
It was the shortest distance between two points.
 But when He took the lead, He knew delightful long cuts, up mountains, through rocky places at breakneck speeds, it was all I could do to hang on!
 Even though it looked like madness, He said,
“Pedal!”


I worried and was anxious and asked,
“Where are you taking me?”  He laughed and didn’t answer, and I started to learn to trust, I forgot my boring life and entered into the adventure.
 And when I’d say, “I’m scared,” He’d lean back and touch my hand.

He took me to people with gifts that I needed, gifts of healing, acceptance and joy. They gave me gifts to take on my journey, my Lord’s and mine. And then we were off again.  He said, “Give the gifts away; they’re extra baggage, too much weight.”
So I did, to the people we met, and I found that in giving I received, and still our burden was light.

I did not trust Him at first, in control of my life. I thought He’d wreck it; but He knows biking secrets, knows how to make it bend to take sharp corners, knows how to jump to clear high rocks, knows how to fly to shorten scary passages.

And I am learning to shut up and pedal in the strangest places, and I’m beginning to enjoy the view and the cool breeze on my face with my constant companion, Jesus.

And when I’m sure that I cannot do it anymore, He just smiles says "Pedal."

(author unknown)

It is easy for us to trust in God’s plan for us when His plan seems to be in line with our own.  But if Mrs. Gaddis can seek joy and stay strong in her faith in Him as she watched her young daughter slowly die, then I should be able to do so when I feel frustrated about my hectic life or anxious about my next job.  

I am taking a deep breath right now and remembering that I have so much to be thankful for.  I am going to make a point from now on (ok, I’ll start with this week) to take some time to do things I enjoy – take some time to cuddle with my husband and sing my favorite song and laugh out loud and read a good book.  I hope that I get to the point of giving over total control.  I pray that those who are hurting find comfort in their trying times and can find some enjoyment in their own lives.  This life is good, and the only thing we can control is the way we take it.  

Until next time, sending love,
The Spiveys

The Real Thing

A couple of blogs ago I said I would not blog about tv shows, and I would put a blog about a book in that category.  Nonetheless….Jennifer Close’s first book is hardly a literary masterpiece on the level with Jane Eyre or The Great Gatsby, but to me, Girls in White Dresses is a work of art that perfectly captures today’s young women.  It describes the ten or so years after a group of friends graduate college, and in doing so, elicits a kind of raw emotion – sad, happy, nostalgic, helpless, and best of all, laugh-out-loud humor – from everyday situations.  It touched on several thoughts I’ve had since I graduated (and I apologize….I know this is really random)…. 

I enjoy reading all kinds of books, including contemporary fiction.  In all the books I’ve read about women, college-aged to early thirties, even the best ones miss the boat in a number of ways.  First, girls in big cities always have crazy fabulous jobs at the age of 27, and they’re always the ones who got a lucky break to get there.  Or if they do have regular, start-at-the-bottom kind of jobs, they can somehow afford prime Manhattan real estate and couture shoes.  I enjoyed reading a more realistic depiction of life.  Similarly, in a lot of books, being overserved is a once-in-a-book kind of thing, and saying bad words is only to emphasize anger.  In reality, girls have fun lots of nights and spend many a morning nursing hangovers, and I think every girl goes through at least a period of time where she uses foul language whenever she can fit it in.  Perhaps most disappointing is that most of these books are about dissatisfied protagonists who, over a few hundred pages, find their Prince Charmings and live happily ever after.  This book’s stories show how real life is even better without fitting into a box.

Secondly, it was a perfect example of how I classify the female gender:  girls, moms, women.  Those are the only three categories.  I’m still a girl in my mind and will be one until I have a baby, when I’ll be a mom.  I’ll be a mom until my kids are grown, and then I’ll be a woman.  If I don’t have children, I’ll be a woman at some unfixed point, when I start to have wrinkles, wear mom clothes or have a houseful of cats.  Am I the only one who unintentionally thinks this way?  It is obvious in the way that having a baby causes friends to separate; not in a bitter way, but no matter how hard you try, things are never the same after a couple makes that life-altering change.  This girl/mom thing is one of my biggest (albeit selfish) fears of having kids….that I’ll lose my identity as a girl forever. 

There were several stories in this book where I thought to myself, “I can totally see myself doing that,” or, “I feel that way!”  One such part is when one of the girls talks about wishing she had known her boyfriend when he was in college.  I’ve tried unsuccessfully to describe this feeling to Matthew before.  I don’t think I would’ve liked him when he was in college.  He was hairy all over and smoked cigarettes and other things too much and still refers to his fraternity as “the meathead fraternity.”  He says this enthusiastically and authoritatively as if it’s something to be proud of.  But I would like to have been a fly on the wall for just a little while to watch Matthew when he was that age.  There’s something a little sad about realizing I’ll never be able to know that part of him. 

I recommend this book to anyone but definitely to girls in college through those that are settling into life as a grown-up.  I know you’ll find at least one way to relate.  And I’m confidant that it’ll make you realize that, although the day-to-day seems monotonous, it's what makes life worth living.  Whether you are a girl, a mom, or a woman, this book can find a place in your heart.

Until next time, sending love,

The Spiveys

    

Go Greek?

Last Saturday kicked off a big week for over 2000 young women at the University of Tennessee.  For half, it’s a week of nerves and doubts and sometimes tears, and for the other half, sorority Recruitment is a week of being “on” for the potential new members and being excited about the competition of which chapter will get the “top girls.”  This is on my mind because my sister, Mollie, is following in my footsteps as Assistant Recruitment Chair of the Omicron chapter of Alpha Omicron Pi in preparation to fulfill the duties of Recruitment Chair her senior year.  I have been disturbingly giddy as I’ve exchanged text messages with her this week.  I mean, a grown woman, a life of my own in another state, and I’m thinking about college rush.  What can I say?  I can’t help it.

Even with the inordinate amount of time I’ve spent thinking about how much I would love to be there with Mollie this week, I still find myself conflicted about feeling this way.  I rushed before my freshman year of college because I never thought that I wouldn’t; I didn’t give it too much thought beforehand.  If I knew nothing about sororities, or had not been in one myself, I think I would feel very differently about them.  First of all, the idea of a ‘sorority’ is right up on the list of antiquated women’s traditions with beauty pageants and teaching little girls to shake their bottoms.  As a general principle, I’m against these practices that are belittling to my kind of people.

Secondly and more importantly, a sorority has a certain exclusivity that is largely based on the superficial.  Panhellenic has tried to make the process seem more tasteful by using words like ‘Recruitment’ instead of ‘Rush’ and ‘young women’ instead of ‘girls’, but if we’re all being honest, it is still a crude process of talking to someone for a couple hours over the course of a week and deciding whether you want them in your club. 

As I was thinking about my internal conflict on these issues, I thought to myself, can I defend a sorority?  The die-hards would say that a sorority is about meeting your bridesmaids and serving your communities, about undertaking philanthropic purposes and promoting the university.  I cannot disagree with this wholly; I think fraternities and sororities are excellent institutions to make changes and promote causes on a local level.  Sorority girls are certainly not like they are often portrayed in movies – pillow fights and painting each other’s nails or requiring hazing periods of circling fat and forcing promiscuity.  They are just real girls trying to find their place in a new situation. 

I’ve thought about this issue a lot this week, trying to pinpoint what exactly it is that I love about my sorority.  You don’t put 150 girls together and not have some differences in personality so it’s not that I think I have a pledge class of girls that I could call anytime in the middle of the night.  I knew a lot of people from home and make friends easily so it’s not that I needed a way to make friends.  And I was involved in other things at school and worked in a pharmacy so it’s not that I needed another way to fill my time.  Here’s the two things I’ve decided:  I love Recruitment because it’s a week of parties (recruitment parties, not party-parties), and I love AOPi because it’s where I made my best friends.

Recruitment….People not in sororities cannot appreciate the hours and effort put into preparing for the week-long process.  At UT, there are four rounds, beginning with over 1000 young women who are whittled down to about 200 by the last round.  Each round serves a different purpose, is supposed to be a platform for different conversations and requires different décor.  Each sorority room (because UT doesn’t have sorority houses yet) is decorated to the corners each round.  The first round is more laidback and casual, and the decorations are cutesy and fun.  By Preference on the last night, all the members of the sororities wear cocktail dresses, and the rooms are decorated with crystal and extravagant bouquets.  While the idea of having to deal with all this madness in one week seems exhausting to some, I loved getting everything ready, making sure everything was perfect for the big show.  I loved how everyone came together to pull each party off and so many people got to enjoy the results of all the hard work.  Maybe I should consider it a guilty pleasure because I know it’s silly, but I loved and still love the idea of it all.

And for the friends….When I went to the pledge retreat the week after my Bid Day, there was this girl with big ol’ curly hair in coveralls, and I remember thinking to myself, ‘omg, I’ve picked the one.’  Four years later, she was a bridesmaid in my wedding.  For someone who talks so much, I have a hard time articulating how I feel about the friendships I’ve made over the last 8 years.  To us, our sorority was about getting to know each other on our way to pledge mixers.  It was about chitchatting and laughing until we cried as we walked for Marla or the Arthritis Foundation or the Jingle Bell Run.  It was about Tour de Franzia in Massey, running back from Carnicus practice to watch The O.C. and pomping our fingers to death for Homecoming floats.  These girls are the kind of friends that all parents hope their daughters find.  One may have just gone through a rough break-up, but she is still tickled pink that another is planning her wedding.  We get decked out in our hottest outfits to go out and then scoff at any guys that try to ruin the good time we’re having.  One may keep making the same stupid mistake with boys, but she’s got 11 shoulders to lean on time and time again.  We are genuinely happy for each others’ successes and share each other’s hurts. 

All 12 of us try to get together a few times a year.  Not everyone can make every reunion, but whenever there’s a group of us, it’s like nothing has changed.  As we’ve gotten older and added real jobs and husbands and 1 baby, our situations and perspectives have changed.  After a movie and a couple of bottles of wine in June, my friend Whitney and I were talking about our little clique.  We talked about how, unfortunately, our 12 lives were going to be difficult sometimes; there will likely be lost jobs, divorces, deaths of relatives and diseases.  We may be separated by distance, but like a marriage, we’ve got a bond that can weather any of these storms.  And on the flip side, these people will be the first ones I call when I find the job of my dreams, and after my family, they’ll be the first to know about my first baby. 

Sunday was Bid Day, and I get a mushy feeling inside when I think about the big adventure that awaits those freshmen.  I remember thinking when Mollie was about to start at UT, “you have no idea that you are about to have the best time of your life.” Whether it’s a sorority, a sports team, or just a group of random roommates, college is an opportunity to find yourself and meet the friends you can’t believe you made it 18 years without.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that everyone should take college as the opportunity to find his or her own sorority, whatever it may be. 

Until next time, sending love,

The Spiveys

Young and In Love

I’m back, people!  I haven’t written in a while because I feel like I haven’t had anything too thoughtful to say.  I refuse to blog just to blog and bore myself and you with a commentary about my favorite tv show or a gripe fest of work.  Great writers can’t force their works of art, right?  Secondly, I feel like I have stuck to “safe” topics…nothing controversial and nothing that anyone may see from a different perspective.  I find people that try to be controversial annoying, but if I’m going to be a real blogger, I’m going to have to step out of the safety circle eventually.  This blog is hardly controversial, but I’d say it’s less “safe” than the others. 

Many of you know that Matthew just finished trying a case in TN with his dad.  He left for Kingsport last Friday and returned to Atlanta yesterday, a week later.  With the exception of his trip to Ireland and my trip to Africa, this was the longest time we had been apart.  Against my efforts, I really did not like being by myself.   (Realize, I did not say I missed Matthew.  I did, of course, miss Matthew, but not picking up after him and not having to worry about what we were doing for dinner every night was kind of nice for a few days.  I know the married people understand.)

Getting married at a young age is frowned on, or at least scoffed at, by a lot of people these days.  I think that when people meet me and notice the rings on my left hand, they assume I am the stereotypical child bride – married to my high school sweetheart, content to be completely dependent on my husband and determined to have three kids by the age of thirty.  This assumption is confirmed when they learn that Matthew and I are from the same small town and I have a distinct southern drawl (otherwise known as redneck twang).  I can actually remember a particular instance when I felt that I was being viewed as some backwards mountain girl on an adventure in the big city.  Sometimes I even sense that certain people from Kingsport and friends that have known us for years turn their noses up against commitment at such a young age.  I know I should not be concerned with what others think, but nonetheless….

I have worked hard to counter these assumptions.  I have prided myself on the fact that I have finished graduate school and continued to work throughout school.  I am quick to let people know that I didn’t give anything up by getting married young; I’ve still done everything I wanted to do.  I really am open-minded about most matters, but maybe as a defense to what people think about me, I am more vocal about them than I would be otherwise.  I am quick and tough to point out that just because I am a wife, I do not have to do certain things (i.e., wait on Matthew, be the one to do the laundry, do the grocery shopping, etc.).  I certainly don’t think that getting married right out of college is the best and only way to do it – Matthew and I just happened to find each other when I was eighteen years old.  I daresay that I do not even need Matthew but that we consciously make the decision to be together every day.  We choose our life. 

I mention all this to say that I was a little disappointed in myself when I realized that I was lonesome over the past week.  What kind of independent woman can’t even be alone for one week?  I saw my parents over the weekend when Matthew was gone, and I interacted with lots of people at work the other days.  I’m not afraid to be at home alone and I sleep just as well in bed by myself.  So what was it?  I do not have an answer except that maybe I was just missing the comfort of my routine.  Whatever the reason, it is okay.  I don’t think that I can completely drop my guard, but I do know that it’s perfectly fine that this is the way we chose to start our life together.  Trying to make others see that we have not conformed to their expectations is a waste of energy; all we can do is know that we made the best decision for us.  And neither one of us has regretted it ever since.

Until next time, sending love,

The Spiveys

3 Words from the Big Easy

I have intentionally been neglecting my blog for a while.  Since we returned from vacation, my life has been consumed with board exams and pre-residency paperwork, and Matthew has been spending more time at his office than at home.   I am certainly not complaining because we know we are fortunate to have jobs and both feel lucky to be doing what we enjoy.  The reason I have refrained from writing, though, is that I did not want to jinx myself in becoming a licensed pharmacist.  Although not official, I found out today that I passed the third and final part of the GA boards.  What a joyful exhale when I saw that ‘pass’!  This is a lengthy post that will make up for my absence.  (Remember my disclaimer, this is a journal, too.)

Mercer University decided to do something different for graduation this year.  Rather than having separate graduations, all colleges on the campuses other than the Macon campus graduated together on May 14, 2011.  Many students (and family members) were outraged about this decision because over 1000 students would walk across the stage in sweltering Atlanta heat.  Personally, I did not mind because I think outside graduations are better.  In the year leading up to May, the administration countered complaints and protests with the argument that we could have a ‘bigger’ keynote speaker if only one was needed.  Jimmy Carter was the name thrown around.  So when we found out that the speaker was a former President of the University, you can imagine the disappointment.  I see Mercer faculty all the time!  But this was another one of those times when life surprised me.  There is no way that Jimmy Carter could have been better than R. Kirby Godsey on that sunny Saturday morning.

Dr. Raleigh Kirby Godsey, the current Chancellor of Mercer, was the President and CEO from 1979 to 2006, has written several books, including When We Talk About God, Let’s Be Honest, and has a litany of achievements and honors that I could mention.  But I want to talk about his Atlanta Commencement Speech, titled Intersections, May 14^th, 2011, which was very likely the best speech I have ever heard.  My mom slipped him a business card as she passed him leaving graduation that day, and he mailed her a copy of his speech so I have been able to include excerpts here.

Dr. Godsey compared the graduation itself to waiting at an intersection, knowing that when the light turns green, we have to move.  He said that he wrote this speech while he “indulged in some indigenous New Orleans refreshments” in Mr. B’s Bistro in the French Quarters and wrote down his gifts to us graduates on a cocktail napkin. 

Here are his gifts:

I first tried to paraphrase what Dr. Godsey said but failed to be nearly as eloquent, so I finally just inserted parts of his speech. 

THOUGHT.

         The most important lesson with which you can leave this intersection today will not be the principles of macro-economics.  It will not even be a discovery that may lead to a new treatment for cancer or the world's greatest curriculum plan.  Your most important lesson, no exceptions, is to keep thought alive.  Think before you act.  Think before you react.  Doing so would be revolutionary.  Think before you decide.  Think before you speak.  Think before you lead.  It will change your destination.  Think before you teach.  Think before you preach.  Think before you care.

         Thought, you see, is intelligence in action.  Your diploma will solve no problems and it will cure no ills.  Thought is the engine of every achievement.  Thought alone will enable you to master the unexpected.  Your Blackberry, on which some of you are texting right now, will never be a substitute for the power of intelligence.  Your iPhone will supply you with data, but it will never light your path.  Only thought, that is, intelligence at work will light the way.  When you leave this intersection today, if you don't keep thought alive, you will come to a dead end.

PASSION.

         Thought without passion never gets anything done.  Passion without thought is reckless.  If thought is the engine of every important achievement, passion is the fuel for that engine…

         Living with passion requires that you be willing to re-imagine yourself, starting right now at this intersection…. Achievements, you see, are not accidents of history.  They spill out of an inner fire that compels us.  Passion will enable you to reach higher than you have ever reached.  Passion will enable you to leap farther than you have ever leapt and to run faster than you have ever run.  Passion will enable you to see what has never been seen, to do what has never been done, to be what nobody has ever been.  If you are pursuing a goal which you cannot pursue with passion, you are pursuing the wrong goal.  You are chasing the wrong star.  Listen to the call you cannot stop hearing.  Drink to the thirst you cannot quench.  Listen to the voice you cannot silence.  Warm by the fire you cannot put out.

         Live with passion.  Take the risk.  Love something, love somebody, with abandon. Not just your head, put your heart into it.  Follow that inner fire.   Inspire someone that only you can inspire.  Loosen the chains of ignorance for someone that only you can loosen.  Be what only you can be.  Stake your life on it.  Imagine the difference you can make.  Imagine the hope that you can give.  Imagine the hurt you can overcome.  Live with an inner fire and imagine the future you can create.

GRACE.

         You will not live long enough to get even.  The word is grace.  Resentment and anger and rage will corrode and ultimately shrivel your insides.  Bitterness will shorten your life.

         Grace means not allowing the external forces - - the uncertainties, the doubts, the hurtful words, the disappointments that will surely come, to define your life.  Grace means forgiving somebody when he doesn't deserve to be forgiven.  Grace means letting go of yesterday.  Why?  The present is the only moment that has a heartbeat.

         The issue is not whether you will get bruised.  Not at all.  When you go through this intersection today, you will from time to time, feel beaten down.  You will sometimes be black and blue from bumping up against one another.  You will get your feelings hurt.  Someone is going to speak a harsh and hateful word.  Somebody is going to look down on you, thinking you can't preach because you are a woman.  Somebody is going to treat you as though you are not a full and equal partner on the healthcare team.  Somebody is going to think that you are not a real American because you are of Latin or Asian or African dissent.  Somebody is going to think that you should be discounted because you are gay.  Do not allow your competence or your compassion or your commitments to be diminished by the prejudice of those who are victims of their own fear.

         Embrace the power of grace.  Etch this lesson into your soul before you leave this intersection today:  Learn to live with grace.  You will not live long enough to get even.

         As we walked off the stage after receiving our diplomas, we were handed a napkin.  Dr. Godsey had personally handwritten on over 1000 Mr. B’s Bistro napkins for each graduate. 

         Coincidentally, today was my first day at Grady so reading over Dr. Godsey’s comments comes at the perfect time.  I know that the next year holds challenges for me as I begin mastering my chosen art.  I cannot imagine being more excited about doing anything else, though.  I obviously don’t know where my career and family will take me in the future, but I am making a promise to myself that I do it with thought, passion and grace.

         Thank you, Dr. Godsey, for the motivation to venture into the next chapter of my life.  Mom and Dad, as always, thank you for the opportunity to reach this point.  And Matthew, my appreciation of you is a blog post in itself for another day.  Thank you for everything so far and everything we’ve got to look forward to.  To the rest of my family and friends, thanks for keeping me humble and school in perspective.  To my fellow first-year pharmacists, good luck to you all, and to my Grady co-residents, let’s run through this tornado of a year together! 

        


Until next time, sending love,
The Spiveys

The Lovefest 2011

This is how Rick, Matthew’s dad, has so affectionately referred to our family vacations.  Matthew and I just returned to Atlanta on Saturday from our oh-so-wonderful, went-too-fast vacation in Isle of Palms.  The week was seven days of pure relaxation. 

Matthew and I got a head start on the vacation by leaving on Friday evening.  We had hoped to leave mid-day on Friday, but this annoying little thing called work held Matthew up.  Leaving later Friday, though, let us to miss the weekend traffic and we got to our hotel just outside of Charleston late Friday night.  On the way, we watched No Strings Attached, the movie with Natalie Portman and Ashton Kutcher, on my iPad.  If you haven’t seen it and you’re not offended by a little crude humor, I’d recommend it, as would Matthew.  As far as romantic comedies go, it’s pretty cute.

The next day, Matthew and I spent the day in Charleston.  I have been to Charleston several times, but I have only driven through the Battery once.  Having read all of Pat Conroy’s books, I feel like a South Carolinian that knows the ‘South of Broad’ in and out.  I figured I could give up a day of shopping, my usual Charleston pastime, for a day of more cultured activity.  It turned out to be what I told Matthew was “my perfect day.”  We walked through the streets of magnificent homes, read plaques about the historical sites and marveled at the enchanting gardens.  We walked along the water and through the parks and spotted artists at work and did some great people-watching, all while holding hands.  We were in no rush to be anywhere and at no risk of having someone ruin our day.  We decided on lunch at the rooftop bar of a restaurant downtown and then headed toward the coast to meet up with our families.

This year was the sixth time that we have done a combined family vacation – my parents and brother and sister and Matthew’s parents.  Now, I know this seems a little strange if you do not know our families.  When I tell people how our moms are friends and our dads are friends and we spend holidays together and vacation together, they seem surprised.  Some are even a little skeptical that marriage can be this easy.  But we are very lucky that everyone gets along and even, dare I say, enjoys each other’s company.  Even so, how do you spend a week with anyone without getting a little annoyed, right?  Other years, I’d say, yes, of course, we drive each other crazy sometimes, but it’s all in the name of love.  This year was different, though.  I think each of us said in the last couple of days that we thought this was the best vacation we could remember.

                       

I have tried to pinpoint what was the difference in this year’s trip that made it so much better.  The only thing that I can come up with is that everyone is old enough (my little sister, Mollie, is 20 this year) to appreciate and enjoy each other as adults.  We did not try to avoid certain topics of conversation for her sake.  On the contrary, we talked about some things that would embarrass even the worst teenage boys.  I could go into detail about these particular discussions, but to save face, I’ll avoid the specifics.  Suffice it to say that we covered everything from our waterboy’s hotness to substance experimentation to sheep’s bodily fluids.  Those of you that know my mom know that she will be mortified that I just mentioned these conversations, but I will also mention what she said at lunch one day.  She said that, first, she can’t believe her sweet children can talk about such things and she just hopes that we have the good sense to avoid such topics in the presence of other people.  Secondly, she said she is glad that we have a good enough relationship to be open about even the most off-color things.  In addition to good conversation, we read for hours, took long walks, listened to good music and enjoyed amazing meals.  We golfed, fished and shopped in groups.  Our dads watched a lot of tv (Swamp People, Big Break and wartime documentaries), and it seemed like Matthew and Ben were always off getting in trouble somewhere….will they ever grow up? J  

                                                                                                              

I’d bet other young couples approaching the five-year mark would agree with me when I say that the question of “getting pregnant” is one frequently asked.  To be fair, our families have always known our anticipated timeline on having kids and understand our desire to wait and live a little first.  One discussion that never fails to come up, though, is what the future little Spiveys will be named.  I used to tell anyone who cared my baby names, but everyone has an opinion and I usually don’t appreciate it.  J  Matthew and I have four names picked out and our lips are SEALED!  Some family members even tried bribery to get the names!  Everyone will just have a wait a few more years!

I feel so fortunate to have such a great family and the opportunity to go on a wonderful vacation.  As the week came to a close, we were already talking about next year’s vacation.  Until then, we’ll work hard, play some and enjoy life!

Until next time, sending love,

The Spiveys

Need Another Margarita, Please!

Matthew and I just got home from an enlightening dinner.  Those of you that have been fortunate enough to attend the lovely establishment of Las Margaritas know what kind of enlightenment I may be talking about.  Cheshire Bridge Rd. in Atlanta is a heavily gay populated area, and Las Margaritas is a hotspot right in the middle of it.  It has been one of our favorite Mexican restaurants since we got married because it’s a great atmosphere and the margaritas are unbeatable.  (Just don’t ask for the wine list, right, Charles?) 

So we walk in tonight, anticipating a low key dinner with some cheese dip and tacos, and say we want to sit out on the porch.  It was pretty crowded (which, by the way, is one of my favorite things about going to a weekday dinner out in Atlanta), and as we walk outside, we see what appears to be an MC on his MacBook in front of a projection screen.  We immediately see that we are only the second ‘couple’ table; the others are groups.  We sit down, Matthew orders a margarita and the reality of what is going on hits us.  There is a game (cleverly called ‘Crazy Bitch Bingo’), similar to trivia, where each player has a Bingo card, and the MC, named Bryan, plays a theme song to a tv show.  The card has the tv shows, and the first player to get five in a row wins.  By this time, I realize that I need to order a margarita, too. J

Right from the start, Bryan says, “Everyone check out the straight couple that just walked in and is wondering what’s up!”  (There were a couple of four letter words in here, too.)  It took me a minute to realize he was talking about us.  I just laughed it off and thought that was that.  Oh, how wrong was I!  Every couple of minutes, the dude called us out!  He announced to everyone that Matthew’s “body language” made him “definitely straight” so no one “get any ideas.”  Round 2 was called ‘All Things Gay’ and consisted of pictures (i.e., Cher, Subaru, Madonna, etc.) that filled the Bingo card boxes.  During the showing of one particularly crude picture, I was laughing and talking to Matthew, and Bryan called out, “Straight girl knows what it is!” and then followed up with, “This is 2011, girl, there should be none of that going on!”  I’ll let you guys use your imaginations as to what he was referring.  He insulted every race, gender, preference in the hour and a half we were there.  He kept referring to this ‘date’ Matthew and I were on, and finally, I lifted my hand up to show him we were married.  That just got him going more.  He said, “You just wait until Round 3 – I’m going to have to come on over to yo’ table!”  And on and on it went….  As much fun as we were having being the center of attention, we decided to pay our check quickly (which had gotten pretty high after the margaritas we had to drink!) during the break after Round 2 and squeeze on out as discreetly as possible. 

Tonight was one of those rare times that you enter into a situation with low expectations and life pleasantly surprises you with something so much better.  In high school, the infamous barn dances were always so much more fun when you went dateless and were just going to make an appearance (if you’re not from Kingsport or had the opportunity to hear about these dances, I’m sure I’ll get around to them at some point).  In college, the nights you went out ‘for just a couple of hours because you have a test tomorrow’ often turned out to be those nights you’ll never forget (Ring a bell, JRoller?).  Sometimes I’ll be laying in bed on a Sunday morning and have to drag myself up to get to church, and then those are the mornings I am most moved by God’s message.  Even an awkward baby shower can prove you wrong.  Most recently, with school winding down, I was at an awards ceremony, and I was feeling bored before it even got started.  Then, I felt as if the keynote speaker’s remarks were directed right to me; they grabbed my attention and made me even more excited to get going with my career.

The downside of this whole idea is that you never know when it’s coming – you can’t plan for these times that you’ll laugh and tell stories about for weeks.  On the other hand, how great it is that we can never plan for what is in store for us – in the big life picture or dinner at a Mexican restaurant. 

On a different note, my hooding ceremony is tomorrow and graduation is Saturday.  I’m praying for safe travels for my family as they travel to Atlanta, and selfishly, I’m praying for pretty weather (or at least non-raining weather) on Saturday as graduation is outside. 

Until next time, sending love,
The Spiveys

  

Let's Hear It for Our Mommas!

Thank you, everyone, for all the positive feedback on the blog!  The pressure’s on now, though….I have to keep this up! 

So this weekend Matthew and I went separate directions from Atlanta – him to Birmingham and me to Knoxville.  I decided last-minute to go see some of my bff’s in Knoxville because life is about to get crazy with board exams and residency, and I just needed a little TLC that only those girlfriends that know you best can give.  Overall, it was a great get-together.  As we were winding up a Mexican dinner last night, we were comparing our relationships with our moms.  Some of us had the blowout fights with our moms during those awkward teenage years, some of us took passive aggressive to the max, and some of us just thought it was too much of the same personality for one house.  As I was driving back to Atlanta today, I was thinking about my group of closest friends and about the women we have become.  While dads undoubtedly play an irreplaceable role in our lives and we have all met individuals that have changed our ways of thinking, MUCH credit goes to our moms.

Not to get too universal, but our moms, and their moms and their moms, have paved the way for my generation of women.  I am the person, the woman, I want to be at this point in my life, and I am proud to give credit to my mom. 

Back to my group of best friends….we have good jobs, a plethora of graduate degrees among the 11 of us, boyfriends, husbands, house payments, leadership roles in community organizations, impressive passports….by today’s standards, we are a successful (and fortunate and very grateful) bunch.  But even with these tangible success measures, it is our attitudes of which I am most proud.  We REALLY believe that we can do anything.  If we want to be president of a company, we can do it; president of the United States, we can do it.  We want to have four kids and be a CEO, of course we can, why not?  We speak our minds loud and clear, in conversation or against something we know is wrong.  We put effort and time (and Matthew would probably say too much money) into how we look, but don’t you dare make any assumptions about us based on that.  We work out (or try to, at least), but we know that the way we live and the way we treat others is what really matters.  We talk openly about sex and too-fun nights out and can tell a dirty joke with the best of them, but we don’t let those moments define us.  When life throws us a roadblock that knocks us down, we stand up, brush ourselves off and are more determined to get what we want.  We do what we can to help those less fortunate, but we don’t feel guilty about the occasional spa visit.  We strive to live life to its fullest and push ourselves to our personal limits.  We expect a lot of ourselves and a lot from others, and we don’t apologize for it.  Let me clarify….I understand that we are several decades past the women’s rights movements; the difference is that today’s girls don’t give a second thought to not being a man.  Even the implication that being a female is a drawback gets a furrowed-brow, skeptical look and a “What the hell?” 

Don’t get me wrong, us modern girls have our faults – i.e., we choose to watch repeats of Keeping Up with the Kardashians or Sex and the City (which we have, of course, seen at least four times) rather than any news broadcast; we diet like mad women until Friday late night when we scarf down 4 Krystals, 3 Pups and fries (with a Diet Coke, naturally); we use technology for almost everything from setting up dates to making hair appointments to keeping up with our checking accounts but would take an embarrassingly long time to remember how to use the Dewey decimal system.  But because of our moms, we do these things without shame.  What the hell?

And we can’t forget the moms of the men (or boys, depending on the day).  We owe it to you to setting the example for your sons.  You have raised them to find strong, independent, smart women attractive. 

So in honor of Mother’s Day 2011, raise your glasses to the women that have made us who we are.  To my own mom, Jimmie, you rock my world, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough.  To Sandy, thank you for raising the man of my dreams – I am a better person because you were an incredible mom.  To the moms of my best friends, thank you for raising smart, positive, FUN girls that have shown me the meaning of true friendship.  To the moms of little girls and little boys, let’s keep up the good work.  You comforted us when we down, bandaged skinned knees and encouraged us through trying times, but most importantly, you taught us that this life is ours for the taking; and watch out world, us girls are here!

Until next time, sending love,

The Spiveys