This Thanksgiving season, I’m thankful for my job and all that my paycheck provides: food on the table, a roof over my head, good shoes to stand in, a warm coat in these Chicago winters, and reliable transportation. I’m thankful for my thriving community; the supermarket, the pubs, the boutiques, my friends near and far, my support system, and my husband. I’m thankful for all of life’s little luxuries that are second-nature to me now: the Internet, Trader Joe’s, magazine subscriptions, digital cable, and outlet malls.
Imagine one day, you walk into your job and are told never to come back. Your final paycheck arrives and you spend it on rent. You call your parents and it seems they’ve lost their jobs, too. Regardless, you move in with them once you’re inevitably kicked out of your apartment. Your family struggles to stay afloat. Your government can’t help you. Your friends and extended family are all strapped for cash, too. Your parents can no longer afford the mortgage but no one is hiring. Meals are taken at the local soup kitchen. The homeless shelter is full.
The only thing that can help is a source of income.
Sadly, this is not a hypothetical to millions of families around the world. The statistics are horrifying. Nearly 100 million people are homeless in the world. (Source.)
How could we let this happen on our watch?
How can we snuggle up in our warm beds with a satiated appetite and not feel thankful?
What can we do?
We can start by embracing the season of giving. We can start right now.
Sustainable communities are the literal bread and butter for millions of underprivileged populations. And this is where you come in.
Today, a friend asked me, “Do you know anyone who would be interested in giving to heifer.org?” The short answer: “Yes.”
Heifer International is an organization that provides livestock to families in need. The livestock is not only a source of food, but a source of income. For instance, you can give honeybees and the family can sell the honey. Selling honey = buying food for the family = win!
For this particular project, the goal is the Heifer Gift Ark. Heifer International describes this gift as follows:
The Heifer Gift Ark offers hope worldwide to families who are poor and hungry. You’ll help families start on a journey to fulfill a seemingly impossible dream – to secure food and a source of dependable income. Each family who receives livestock will pass on one or more of the animal’s offspring to other families who are in need in their community. Every gift will multiply for years to come. Imagine how your gift could change the world. Two cows bring milk and income to a Russian village. Two sheep help families in Arizona produce wool. Two camels help families in Tanzania earn income by transporting agricultural and industrial materials. Two oxen pull plows and carts in Uganda. Two water buffalo help Cambodian families increase rice production through animal draft power. And that’s just the first five sets of animals … your ark provides 15 pairs of animals to change lives.
What a wonderful way to bring joy to the world!
In addition to physical donations, Heifer International is also committed to finding global solutions, the growth of agroeconomy, animal welfare, gender equity, the HIV-AIDS pandemic, advancing microenterprise, building urban agriculture, and focusing on youth. Read more about their initiatives here.
There is no minimum and no limit to the monetary unit you can donate. Some ideas:
- Forgo your latte and donate that $4
- Cut some coupons and donate the money you saved at the grocery store
- Donate your Etsy sales for the next two weeks
- Donate your tips for the week
- Ask your coworkers, family, friends, and total strangers to chip in a few bucks
- Spread the word on your blog and link to this post!
In return, I’ve lined up generous giveaway donations two of my favorite Etsy shops (so far): Joyful Star and Les Jou Jou. Anyone who donates will be entered into the giveaway drawing and the winner will receive gift certificates from Joyful Star and Les Jou Jou. Guys, your girlfriends/sisters/mothers will LOVE you this Christmas if you buy their gift from here! (If you would like to contribute to the giveaway, please contact me.)
The donation and giveaway period will end December 4 in order for the gift to be delivered in time for Christmas. To donate, click here or hit up the PayPal donation button at the top of the sidebar.
Peace be with you this holiday season. Let’s not take our little luxuries for granted. Let’s give the gift of community and sustainability together.
I’m beginning to see blogging, my blog, and myself as a blogger in new lights.
I’ve recently taken to calling myself a writer. I normally write for myself and myself only but when I asked a local business owner if I could profile her business for a blog, she asked if I was a writer. I surprised myself when I answered, “Yes.” I affirmed the suspicion my mother had always had- I’m a writer and I was meant to be a writer.
My blog, however, has been a space for reflection and fluff. I’m learning that a blog has two purposes- reflection and promotion. The more I learn about social media, the more I see the Internet as a tool to truly brand ourselves. But even more than that, a blog can be the platform for becoming you.
So I’m going to take this blogging thing more seriously. I’m going to hone my writing instead of writing fluff and publishing fluff without a second thought or edit. I’m going to make writing my craft instead of my hobby. And one day, maybe I’ll be able to work in a coffee shop… this time at a table with a laptop, not behind the espresso bar.
I guess that means I’ll have to pay for my coffee.
Worth it.
I’ve discovered that I’m horribly awkward in social situations. I stick to my group of friends, people I trust and care about… and when I have to branch out? I flop. This seems so unlike me so I thought it over in the shower. The shower is the best thinking spot ever, btw. Here’s what I came up with… and I know I’m painting myself in an unfavorable light, but keep in mind that I met Joe almost as soon as I got back from Rome aka after I got my shit together.
When I was in college (before I met Joe) all I had to do was put on a scandalous shirt and a pair of shiny heels and I would have plenty of people to talk to. I was not above wearing red pants to parties. I laughed a lot, flirted a little, and mostly talked about what I knew best – myself. But when you’re a decent looking girl and the cheap beer keg is flowing, boys didn’t care that all I talked about was myself and girls were bitchy enough to ignore me.
It worked.
And then I met Joe and became “Joe’s girlfriend.” I was accepted by a ridiculously fun group of guys without question. Joe gave me the best insta-friends I could ask for. No awkwardness there, even when I was still around for breakfast. It was great!
Then we graduated, moved in together, got married… and have only a handful of friends in the ‘burbs. So that means we have to do our part in making friends. And, you guys? I’m socially awkward. I can’t default on booze and impressing impressionable boys anymore. Seriously, though…
WHAT DO 20-SOMETHINGS TALK ABOUT?!
What’s the 20-something equivalent of “What’s your major? Where are you from? What dorm do you live in? Do you want to hear about how awesome I am?”
I can’t really talk about myself anymore because… well, what am I going to say? “I work in a coffeeshop and I have a cat and I’m an old married lady and OMG I HAVE THIS AWESOME BLOG.”
Lame.
(I was way more interesting in college.)
I’m going to set a scene for you guys and you’re going to role play how Real Twenty-Somethings meet people and make conversation.
Scene: You’re sitting in a pub you’ve never been to before, surrounded by one person you know from work who invited you plus her 12 other friends you’ve never met. Your husband (or boyfriend or girlfriend or wife or partner or dog) has left the seating area to hit the bathroom. You’re awkwardly silent now with no one to talk to. You take another sip of your black and tan and look around like a kitten being weened from his mother. Your sudden lack of social skills is palpable. The girl next to you is quiet. You want to strike up a conversation but her shirt and purse kinda suck so you can’t even compliment her. What do you do?
Studying abroad was one of the best decisions I’ve made in my life. If I had the chance to do it again, I would have gone for the entire school year as opposed to just one semester. My coworker Steph also studied abroad in Rome for a semester and we occasionally discuss Rome itself, but just the other day we discussed the impact Rome had on us.
Steph mentioned how difficult the transition back to the States was for her. The same goes for my experience. I don’t think anyone takes into account the reimmersion process for lengthy European travel. It’s not just the intense pasta carbonara and gelato cravings. It’s not the lack of any decent Nutella croissants in the States.
There’s something so spiritual about being uprooted from everything and everyone you know and thrown headfirst into the fires of a foreign country, foreign language, and figuring it all out yourself.
There’s no user manual for a new cultural immersion. Even if you speak enough of the language to get by, you might not speak the right dialect. Calling home is easy in the States. Ordering coffee is easy in the States. Finding a spot for lunch is easy in the States. Reading a map is easy in the States.
Suddenly, you’re in a foreign country and NOTHING is easy, not even washing your underwear.
But doing laundry in the sink, ordering wine and pizza in Italian, catching a train to Naples all become routine, second nature. In the same breath, so does having lunch at the Pantheon, spending the afternoon at the Vatican, and drinking beer with Swiss Guards.
((The beauty and horror of studying abroad is becoming used to being abroad.))
Being left behind in Bologna, conversing with the signori at the dress boutique entirely in their language, buying shoes in sizes like UK37, and being asked “Mangia qui o porta via?” when you order lunch from the small cafe are exactly the kinds of experiences that solidify your sense of self.
I saw it in the other students in my program. Rome suited them in one of two ways: either your foundation becomes so shaken that you completely fall to pieces or your foundation is so solidified that everything about your SELF suddenly becomes chiaro – clear.
Rome silenced the cacophony of being 19. It forced me to put life in perspective. It forced me to see ME, without the haze of college and boys and family and drama, ME in my truest, purest form.
And it forced me to make adjustments to be the ME that I wanted to BE. I became who I am thanks to five too short months that flew by much too quickly.
Rome lies quietly just below the surface of my skin, bubbling up just to let me know it’s still there when I need it. Rome manifests itself in my love for blood oranges and white wine, in my quest for the perfect croissant and hazelnut gelato, in my occassional slip into translating nonsensical things into Italian, in that whaft of cigarette smoke + rain + car exhaust combination that immediately takes me back to the streets that wind from Piazza Navona to the Colosseum.
C
oming home to the States was bittersweetly difficult. I found myself slipping into the hybrid Italian-English language my pals and I had taken to speaking. I would yearn for the incessant buzz of history at my fingertips. I craved the richness of faith and the humanity of the people. I ached for the discovery of SELF to reveal itself again and again.
I came back to the States more sure of myself and my capabilities than I have ever or will ever experience in my life. I knew who I was, who I am meant to be, and what passions needed my energy most. The one single thing I was absolutely most sure of, though?
I need to go back.
We were hit with a strange blow a week or so ago. Apparently, rumor around Joe’s office was we are pregnant and that’s why we are moving. This rumor was met with a resounding OH HELL NO.
But it’s not the only inkling we’ve heard of this.
When we were looking at houses and apartments, our agent mentioned something about kids and added, “You don’t think so now, but just you wait.” One of my favorite customers asked me -out of nowhere- if I had kids. The freaking Knot Nest keeps sending me STUPID NEWSLETTERS about babies. FACEBOOK wants me to procreate IMMEDIATELY. Okay, now I’m just angry about it.
Here’s the thing. We got married three months ago. Sure, kids will be great… but we’re still kids ourselves. We’re 23 years old! I am nowhere near baby fever; I still get anti-baby hives thinking about sex. We still argue over petty things, we still eat dinner on the couch, we still leave our folded laundry in the living room for days, and we never clean our kitchen. WE ARE NOWHERE NEAR READY FOR KIDS. Just because we’re moving to a house with a yard and a third bedroom doesn’t mean we’re going to busy. A family doesn’t make a home. And the incessant baby buzz coming at us from all angles doesn’t make a family.
I’ve lead my life by the story I was supposed to follow thus far. I’ve done it by the books. But now it’s my turn. To those who are pressuring us to “settle down,” I say:
Please stop.
Please stop writing my story.
I have so much left to say myself before I say it through children.
Pouty lips. I can’t do ‘em. I have nicely shaped lips, I’ve never complained… but that MySpace pouty face that all the kids do these days? I can’t do it. You know, that face that Megan Fox and her epic Transformers lip gloss made famous? And, trust me, I’ve tried to do it. I’ve humored myself for hours with PhotoBooth trying to do that stupid face.
…aaaaaaand I’ve documented it solely for your entertainment.
I give up.
You know how I’m already furnishing and refurnishing and making plans in my house that I don’t live in yet? Yeah. I’m thinking now I need a keyboard in my dining room.
Well, here’s the deal. If for some unfortunate reason I don’t become Food Network Famous, I want to be these girls:
ETA: Yup, the girl on the left is “The Gooch,” better known as Ted’s ukelele-playing girlfrend on Scrubs. I knew I had to get my paws on these vids when I read an interview with them in Bust magazine.
In case you haven’t been following along on Twitter, there’s some exciting news in the Renee and Joe household. We’ve leased a HOUSE! Yes, we took your advice, we’d already crunched the numbers. We know this is feasible. We might have to cancel Christmas between the two of us, but it’s worth it to join the ranks of Real Married Couples with Yards and Garages and No More Noisy Neighbors Who Share Our Walls.
This house is what realtors would call quaint. Or cozy. Or any other word that’s used as a euphemism for small. It looks like a little box on the corner of an adorable neighborhood, but when you walk in the front door, you’ll understand how much time, money, and effort the landlord has thrown into this place. It’s been almost entirely remodeled, with wood laminate floors, new countertops, lots of colored paint, and all new bathrooms. (Seriously, these bathrooms are ridic.) I’m already picturing our furniture in this place. (Which begs the question – how do you think our sage couch will look in a tan and burgandy living room? Hideously Christmasy or warm and awesome?) I’m already planning which corner our Christmas tree will occupy. I’m already putting rugs in bathrooms and organizing closets and designating cabinets. I’m planting a garden and grilling brats on the patio. I’m composting. I’m doing all those things in my head that I’ve been wanting to do since I moved out here. Oh shit, I’m nesting.
We’re excited.
And we need a snow shovel.
I want a Food Network show. I’ve decided I will only feel truly successful if I have a Food Network show. Not only do I consider Guy Fieri and Duff Goldman my bffs, I also subscribe to the Food Network magazine and talk back to Giada like I know more Italian than she does.
Regardless, here’s my plan.
I’m kind of a kickass barista, in case you haven’t heard. So kickass that my bosses are sending me to advanced barista school where part of the curriculum is learning how to compete in barista competitions. That’s the first step to my Food Network show. I will learn how to compete and then I will compete. There’s a Midwest Barista Competition that I had hoped to go to this weekend, but I had to volunteer to work my Halloween. That’s okay. I can’t compete yet. I don’t have mad skillz to drop yet. Here are the steps to getting a Food Network show after I graduate from barista school:
1. Compete in a barista competition.
2. Win barista competition.
3. Win other barista competitions.
4. Food Network must host a Food Network Challenge: Latte Art or something equally awesome/coffee related.
5. Win Food Network Challenge: Mocha Madness.
6. Show Food Network how cute and bubbly I am and how good of a barista I am.
7. Get my own show. Travel to independent coffee roasters and a) drop some knowledge on those baristas and b) taste delicious home-roasted brews and discuss the nougaty aftertaste and hints of lemony berry of certain blends. (See? I speak coffee tasting!)
But seriously, Food Network, let’s get on this. Some people plead to Google, others plead to Etsy. I plead to my true love, Food Network and coffee. I know my stuff. I’m super cute. And I drink a lot of coffee.
Who’s going to help me?
What would you do?
When Joe and I moved to the Chicago ‘burbs, we chose a place that was comfortable, affordable, and was across the street from the only people we knew in the ‘burbs. It’s been home for the last 15 months. Joe has been commuting half an hour southwest for the past 15 months. For the first four months, I commuted an hour northeast. Then I commuted an hour fifteen due south. What I’m trying to say is it’s been a central location for us. But now we’re both working in the same town, both commuting half an hour to the same street essentially. And that town? Is a bajillion times cuter than this one.
Everyone has been asking, “Why don’t you just move there?”
Well, in a nutshell, the answer is… because our lease was up the day we got married. And we weren’t going to move and get married in the same week. So we renewed the lease. And shot ourselves in the foot, duh.
We’ve been looking for deals, you know, first month free, no security deposit, etc. We can’t find ‘em. We met up with a realtor today. He showed us a few places… one was too big and too expensive. One was super dumpy and sucky. One was the cutest little house in the entire world but was a bit out of our price range but had an apartment in the basement that we could rent to a friend for cheap and then split the utilities. (Who wants to live with us?)
So no deals. Which means breaking our lease and still paying a security deposit and rent in a new place. Which means a lot a lot a lot of money. Keep in mind, we paid for a hefty chunk of our wedding. We paid for our honeymoon. I work in a coffeeshop. We have a LOT of student loan debt. We aren’t really well off. In fact, we would have to take a loan (from Bank of Dad and/or from Joe’s 401K) in order to make this work.
BUT the pros include saving approximately $100-150 in gas each month, saving in taxes, sleeping in just a little later since we won’t have a half hour commute and I won’t have to leave the apartment at 5am…. Plus the town is absolutely darling, I can’t get enough of it.
So what would you do? Take a couple loans that you’ll be able to pay back in the next year? Or stay comfortably 20 miles away from work even though the living expenses would be more in the long run?
Discuss.
ETA: It surprises me that my first few comments were opposed to moving. I feel I need to add the following: Would YOU want to scrape your car at 4:30am in the middle of February in Chicago? Also, yes, we would be able to pay back the debt and save more by moving. Now discuss.
